Page 50 of Trapped By Vengeance

“Who goes there?” a guard calls out.

“Who do you think?” Valda calls back, running that blood-tainted comb of hers through her hair again.

“My Lady!” he answers, and there is a shuffle above.

Then Valda and I step back as the drawbridge lowers. Then guards are surrounding her, ushering forward and drawing me after.

It is a relief to no longer be pelted with rain, but the stone corridors of the castle carry a biting breeze against my wet skin.

“My daughter!”

Baron Schwerin’s voice echoes throughout the great hall we’ve been ushered into. He strides across the room wearing a red velvet tunic and dark breeches I could never evenimaginebeing able to afford. Around his shoulders is the telltale fur cape of a baron, held in place with a golden emblem sporting his crest— a chalice held under the moon.

“Vater!” Valda cries, hurling herself across the room in the most ungraceful and unladylike motion I’ve seen from her, my coat falling to the ground with her actions.

“My sweet jewel.” Baron Schwerin embraces her tightly. For a moment, I see in them myself and Eloise— which is wrong. Schwerin is my enemy and I must not lose sight of that.

Especially since if Valda betrays me, I’m going to have to runveryfast. Why did I even let myself get lured into the castle of the man I’ve vowed vengeance again? What was I thinking? How did I come to this point so placidly?

I was thinking about this morning when I had Valda’s lips on mine. And that was taking all the important space in my head, apparently.

That and just how much money I owe on that blood-tainted shipwrecked vessel.

Thank the Creator, I had the presence of mind to send Eloise back. She doesn’t need to get mixed up in this. That’s part of me being the kinsman avenger before she comes of age. Her innocence can remainunscathed.

Mine died the same day as our family. When Pa fell, I lost the wall of protection between myself and the outside world he had so long shielded me against.

Now, I am that wall of protection for Eloise— if I can make it out of this alive.

“And who’s this?”

Baron Schwerin’s voice draws me out of all the thoughts that are coming too little too late. He’s pulled away from his daughter enough to see me. The Baron isn’t scowling, but there’s something about his smile that is just a little too friendly to be trusted.

And that’s not even taking into consideration the servants and guards under his command that are lurking in the shadows, smelling as though they’ve just come from a graveyard. Has there been a death in the castle? And why is everyone wearing a scarf?

“Oh,Vater, this is Konrad, one of our own subjects.” Valda pulls away from her sire, picks up my poor coat, and steps toward me, holding it out. “He rescued me from the pirates who abducted me.”

He steps forward, so I can better see the dark hair he shares with his daughter— though his falls only to his shoulders— and the sickly pallor of his skin. There is nothing weak in his stance, though, as he comes to stand before me. There is only strength in his hand as it comes down hard on my shoulder. “You have returned to me the most priceless treasure in all the realms.”

I glance past him to Valda, where she is picking up my coat, her perfect red lips pursed.

I’m inclined to agree. But I can’t feed Eloise on Valda’s beauty, so I tear my gaze back to Baron Schwerin. “It was an honor, Sire. I have a daughter of my own, and I would do anything for her.”

Baron Schwerin. “Then you understand why I must invite you to supper so we can discuss the terms of your reward.”

“Of course, Sire.”

Practically dismissing me, Baron Schwerin turns to the servants in the shadows. “Prepare our best guest room for this man. Send him the finest clothing we have in his size, and see that we have a feast prepared for a king!”

As the servants hurry to obey, I glance at Valda, hoping I can offer her my silent thanks for not going back on our agreement.

She’s not looking at me, though. And then I’m being grabbed by many hands and propelled forward to be given honors I don’t deserve by the man I hate most in all Constantinium.

The best guest room is still far too cold. The servant sent to see to my needs took far too long trying to kindle the hearth, like he’s never started a fire before.

By the time he’s finished, I’ve already peeled off my old garments and dressed in the white velvet tunic and dark breeches. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen breeches in white before, but it’s dry and my size, so I allow it.

I play with the sleeves and frown at just how perfectly it fits my frame almost like it was tailored just for me, as mad as that sounds. Mayhap there is a steward, or another better dressed servant who shares my body type.

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