Page 9 of Immortal Sentry

Being from Dillane explained Kene’s light eyes and hair, though she didn’t speak with the rolling burr of some northerners.

The road grew steeper the farther they traveled, tall oak trees giving way to scrubby little bushes clinging precariously to steep slopes. White-capped mountains appeared in the distance. They came to a stone wall, which they followed as the sun hit its zenith and began its downward journey into night.

They stopped twice by a stream for water, where Kene shared bits of cheese and dried meat.

The wall gave way to a set of broad double gates shortly before twilight. Kene’s horse quickened its pace. A man shouted down from a watchtower. “Open the gates for Lady Kene!”

Lady Kene? Kennestone. Wait! Baroness Kennestone? How did the watchman know? Better yet, how did Eron? The gates opened with a groan. Kene rode confidently into the courtyard of a stately stone structure, horse hooves clattering over cobblestones. Eron trailed behind. What was this place? It stood two stories tall, yet sprawled in all directions, a small town growing around the main house. The clang of a blacksmith’s hammer sounded from one end of the courtyard; on the other, women removed clothing from a line. A few children regarded him with curious eyes before returning to their play.

Kene sat straighter in the saddle. Her entire demeanor changed from Kene, the traveling merchant avenging angel, to a stately noblewoman not bloody likely to dirty her hands with the likes of the soldiers she’d killed. A tall man approached, a touch of gray in his light brown hair and neatly trimmed beard. “Welcome home, milady,” he said with a smile, crinkles forming around his blue eyes.

“Thank you, Rolf.” Kene spoke far softer than when she’d portrayed a merchant. “Rolf, I’d like you to meet my new ward, Edry.”

Rolf bowed. “Greetings, Lord Edry.”

“Lord Edry” might take some getting used to. “Greetings, Rolf,” Eron replied, dismounting his horse when Rolf took the reins, but keeping one hand on the saddle to steady himself on wobbly legs.

“Edry, Rolf is the reason I can leave my estate. His word is as good as mine here.” Kene dismounted from her horse without assistance, nor did Rolf offer any. “It’s good to be home.”

An ache took root in Eron’s heart, but why, he couldn’t quite tell.

“Rolf, I’d like you to keep a watchful eye on Edry.” And so, Eron went from merchant’s apprentice to a noblewoman’s ward.

A wrinkle formed between Rolf’s brows. He lowered his voice and leaned into Kene. “You were… unsuccessful?”

Pain flashed across Kene’s features, gone in an instant. “I was. But I didn’t come away empty-handed.” She mussed Eron’s hair, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips and her eyes glinting. A tear spilled over her lashes. She wiped it away with one hand.

“My deepest condolences, milady.” Rolf handed the reins of Kene’s horse to a stable lad.

Kene gave a sniff, then plastered on a strained smile. “Let’s see about a meal, shall we? Edry is a growing boy and needs a full belly and sleep.”

Eron. Lord Edry. By the next full moon, he had added another title to his new life: Lordling Night, because he’d been rescued by the notorious highwayman, Lord Night.

Chapter Four

Kerric stared down from his lofty perch. Soldiers brought a struggling man into a courtyard now defiled by blood and death. A bag covered the man’s head. Who could this be? Someone loyal to Lothan? Someone who tried to take revenge? Several more soldiers watched, as did Crau.

“Tie him to that stake,” Crau commanded. The whip in his hand didn’t bode well for the hooded man.

The soldiers chained their captive and stepped back. Their captive stood trembling in breeches that might have been fine once and nothing else. One soldier whipped the bag from the man’s head.

Anthone! Dirty, bruised, bloody, but still Anthone, young Prince Eron’s tutor.

“Where is he?” Crau stroked the whip like a pet.

Where is he?So, Prince Eron really must be alive. Kerric’s hope soared for a moment before Anthone’s situation brought him back to harsh reality.

“I… I don’t know. I thought he was dead.”

Crack!

An angry welt appeared on Antone’s bare back. “Yaah!” His scream echoed in the courtyard, tearing at Kerric's soul. They were occasional lovers. Though not exclusive, Kerric still couldn’t stand to see a friend harmed, or any innocent, for that matter.

“Wrong answer.” Crau recoiled his whip. “I know you helped him escape. Tell me where he is!”

“I don’t know!” This time, Anthone braced for the blow, which probably made the sting worse.

Crack!Another welt joined the first.

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