Free While Angels Slept by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

could smell his stench from where she stood. When his gaze
found her, she instinctively tensed.  She did not like the expression on his
face.
    He grunted at her.
“This is not an infirmary,” he said. “Move this woman out.”
    It was an order.
Cantia’s mood was rapidly darkening. “She is injured. It would be painful and
difficult thing to move her to the upper floors. ‘Tis best that she recuperates
down here when she can be watched with the rest of the wounded.”
    She wasn’t being
combative in the least, but Charles flew out of his chair and grabbed her by
the neck.  Hunt was shoved back out of the way with his grandfather’s swift
moment, ending up on his backside. Startled, but not hurt, he burst into loud
sobs.
    Charles smelled
of alcohol and sweat. His foul breath was in her face, his hand squeezing her
neck. “I will not be challenged in my own house,” he snarled. “You will do as I
say or I will turn you out. Do you hear me?”
    He was hurting
her, but more than that, she was angry.  “Let go of me,” she hissed. “Have you
gone completely mad?”
    He struck her,
then. Cantia’s head jerked with the force and she could taste the blood in her
mouth.  Lifting her hand, she was fully prepared to strike back to defend
herself when Charles suddenly grunted and fell backwards.  Cantia pushed the
hair out of her eyes in time to see Tevin descending on the old man, moving in
for a mortal blow with his enormously balled fist.  She shrieked.
    “No,” she
grabbed his arm before he could strike again. “Please… no more, not in front of
Hunt.”
    The little boy
was crying loudly on the ground.  Cantia went to her son and swept him into her
arms, whispering comfort to him as Tevin, exerting the greatest self-control,
stepped away from the sprawled old man.  His dark eyes were as hard as obsidian
as he gazed at her.
    “Are you all
right?” he asked.
    She nodded, more
concerned for Hunt’s state of mind than her own. But she tasted her blood and
wiped at the trickle on her lip. “He did not hurt me.”
    Tevin lifted an
eyebrow; his entire face was taut with rage, so much so that his flared
nostrils were white. He looked back down at Charles, still in a heap on the
floor.
    “Next time,” he
growled at the old man. “I will kill you.”
    Hunt wailed
louder. Cantia shushed him gently. “Please, my lord,” she said to Tevin. “He…
he is not himself. You must make allowances.”
    “I make no
allowances for a man that would strike a woman,” he said coldly. He stepped
around Charles, circling him as a vulture would circle its prey. “You will remove
yourself from this keep, Penden. I do not want to see your face again today.”
    Charles gazed up
at him, his eyes red and unfocused. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and
walk unsteadily from the room. He didn’t even look at Cantia.  When he was
gone, Tevin and Cantia focused on one another.
    “What happened
that he would do that to you?” he demanded quietly.
    Cantia opened
her mouth, but the lady knight in the corner spoke first. “She did nothing,
Tevin. He attacked her for no reason at all.”
    Cantia looked at
the lady in the corner; she did not know what to say, ashamed that this
stranger should witness such a scene.  “He is not himself,” she said softly.
    Tevin took her
chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to get a better look
at Charles’ handiwork.  Her lip was split, but she would heal. He held her face
much longer than necessary, simply for the fact that he couldn’t seem to let
go.
    “Has he done
this before?” his voice was low.
    She shook her
head. “Never,” she replied honestly. “Brac would have.…”
    When she refused
to finish, Tevin lifted an eyebrow at her. “What would he have done?”
    She wasn’t going
to answer him, but he shook her chin gently to prod her. Eyes averted, he
barely heard her words. “Brac would have killed him,” she whispered.
    Tevin let her
go. Hunt was