Tyrant's Obsession With The Heiress

Van Merikh drained his cup of the last dregs of wine before he set it down with a clang. When he turned to regard Lady Karina, he could already see the fat droplets of tears welling in both her pretty emerald eyes.

Naturally, he'd been prepared to dismiss her question but the pleading expression on her face caused his acerbic answer to die in his throat.

God's blood, what was this woman doing to him?

"He is no longer any concern to you, Lady," Van Merikh answered, ensuring that he didn't start to falter simply because of her tears.

"But you said that his life was spared," Lady Karina said, blinking away her hot tears as they threatened to release. "I plead with you. Tell me where my father is and I shall retreat to my chambers and not ask you again. Please, my Lord."

Next to Van Merikh, Lyall snapped his fingers to signal one of the brooding knights and the man moved forward in a blur to grab Lady Karina by the arm. He was the broad one, somewhat shorter than the others but his hands weren't any less colossal and rough.

His hands felt as though they were biting as he squeezed Lady Karina's tender flesh, yanking her towards the solar door.

The lady winced but she did not voice her pain or cry out.

Van Merikh's jaw twitched irritably when the knight manhandled Lady Karina.

"Hold," his voice boomed, stopping the knight dead in his tracks.

The knight, Gilghard Hughes, obeyed without question but his grip did not leave Lady Karina's arm. He faced his liege as the man walked upon him, towering above him well over a head. But Van Merikh's interest was not focused on the knight but rather on the fiery-spirited lady.

Without a word, he took hold of Lady Karina from his knight, with more power than brutality, and escorted her forcibly from the solar. When the small room was devoid of his overwhelming presence, Gilghard looked to Lyall questioningly and with confusion.

"Did he not tell me to remove her? Gilghard's accent was thick and rough and his words were barely distinguishable. "Where is he taking the lady?"

Lyall shook his head with a sigh, his pale blue eyes distant at the empty doorway. "Perhaps our liege is escorting the lady back to the vault."

"I saw her in the ward," the big and hairy knight, Caelum Montero, said, making for the wine pitcher that his liege had nearly emptied. The mark of his abilities was branded on the right cheek of his face just above his thick beard. "The lady won't endure or survive here; tis no place for womenfolk."

Lyall's gaze lingered on the empty doorway a moment longer before moving to Caelum and abruptly snatching the wine pitcher from his hold. When the hairy knight snarled at him, he drained the pitcher and smashed the earthenware jug over his head.

Caelum staggered away, but none of the other knights questioned or raised an eyebrow at their interaction.

This was common amongst the knights of Van Merikh's banner.

It was a miracle they hadn't yet gorged out each other's throats.

The other knights were too occupied hunting for wine of their own; Gilghard caught a skinny male servant hovering in the hall outside the solar and sent the man scurrying to the kitchens for more food and drink.

Hendrix, the only knight so far who had yet to speak or smash wine pitchers, lingered by the lancet window with a singed oilcloth; it had been licked by flames sometime during the siege and now hung in tatters.

"What do we do from here and where do we go?" Hendrix turned to Lyall as the man came up beside him.

Together, they studied the ward outside, admiring the shells of ice their liege created around each corpse on the poles.

"To the southwest," Lyall replied, wondering just how much information he should divulge to Hendrix.

In reality, there wasn't much trust between Van Merikh and Lyall and the rest of the knights; they'd experienced far too many betrayals to hold implicit trust. There were simply paid hires promised riches and lands by their liege, who proved that he would deliver.

"Inas Meryth Castle, I'm told," Lyall stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "It is about a day and a half ride and our liege has summoned his generals from the southern Marches for a conference. They should be arriving in a few days."

"A conference?" Hendrix repeated, his brown gaze narrowing. "For what reason? Those men already possess garrisons to rule and riches to be had. Why is he summoning them to the Blackthorn Reach Border?"

Lyall could hear the envy in Hendrix's voice as clear as day. "Because this border may prove to be more challenging," he replied. "The Walcians we faced were terrible but the Caelthians of this kingdom are much worse. Merikh needs his council."

When Lyall sensed that Hendrix didn't appear entirely convinced, he explained further, "Each general brings fifty retainers each to reinforce our ranks, which means that's three hundred more men."

"And what of this 'Beast Whisperers' that Moonveil is rumoured to possess? Is it not but a wild goose chase?" Hendrix huffed, leaning against the wall of the lancet window. "It's pure madness and a waste of time."

Lyall shot him a warning glare. "If it were but a wild goose chase, there would not be so many lords vying for this castle. We simply had to be the first to take it to reinforce our ranks. With beasts within our army, we would prove to be unstoppable. There would be no more need for siege engines."

Hendrix sulked, not seeming all entirely bothered with what he strongly believed was nothing more than a myth.

"Merikh promised all of us castles to rule once we were finished securing this border. We all have our reward coming." Hendrix pressed further.

Lyall lifted a blonde eyebrow. "And you shall have it. Do not be threatened by the March Generals. I am certain they have no ambitions for Caelthian garrisons."

Hendrix nodded slowly, as if he was reluctant to believe Lyall, turning back to the open window to watch the giant crows as they circled over the bailey; some of them had already descended on the ice shells, plucking at the flesh of the corpses' exposed faces.

It was a gruesome sight but the men under Van Merikh were too hardened to life in general to even bat an eye.

A moment later, Hendrix turned away from the window as the skinny servant returned with a platter of food. Lyall and the others, too, swarmed on the tray and shoved the servant out of the way.

They were no better than savages.

The servant was fortunate to escape with his life.

All thoughts of the following conquests, the corpses in the bailey, and the Lady of Moonveil vanished from their minds as they downed the wine and shovelled in the bread.

All that mattered to them was that they would receive their share of the riches and assets.

Such was the mind of a mercenary.