Page 2 of In Bed with the Earl

He spit a tooth out.

They broke my tooth.“You broke my tooth,” he whispered.

And then he cried.

Because he’d never lost one before. His tutor had said they’d one day fall out, and Percy hadn’t slept for nights and nights because he’d been so very afraid of when that day would come: his teeth falling out of his mouth. But now, these men had done it. These mean, ugly, angry strangers. Percy cried all the harder and curled his hand around his tooth.

“Let’s just cut ’im,” the bearish man whispered. “Oi told ya he was too weak. We’ll find another one.”

“We already paid the coin for this one,” the other stranger spat. And then he turned to Percy. “Forget yar damned tooth. Or Oi’ll break yar bloody head,” he growled as he yanked Percy up on his feet. “Get movin’.”

And Percyknewhe was supposed to be afraid. Heknewthey were going to hurt him and then kill him. But he didn’twantto die. Even though when they killed him, he’d get to go see Mama and Papa. But he was an earl’s son and had responsibilities that now fell to him.

Papa was now in heaven, and Percy was all that remained of the Northrop line.

“Let me go,” Percy whispered. And when the ugly stranger tightened his hold, Percy used all the energy he had to fight. “I saidlet me go.”

Except they weren’t impressed. They merely laughed.

Anger shot through Percy. “Stop laughing at me,” he yelled, and they only roared all the more. “Do you know who I am?”

At last they stopped laughing, and then Percy wished they hadn’t, because they’d gone all quiet. And the quiet was scarier than when they’d yelled. “Oh, yeah, Oi know.”

He did? Percy’s heart jumped. They knew him. Which meant they’d free him. Because they couldn’t hurt an earl’s son. No one did.

“Ya’re the fuckin’ king of England.”

Both men exchanged a look, and then—

“Bwahahaha!” The bear of a man bent over and clutched his side.

They were ... laughing at him. None had ever dared laugh at Percy’s father. But these men, these ugly, stupid, dirty strangers, would make fun of Percy ...

All the rage and pain and heartache he’d felt snapped him. “I said stop laughing at me,” he cried, and with all the energy he could manage, he rushed at the pair of brutes.

One of the men easily caught Percy by the thin shirt he’d been given, lifting him by its front and raising him so that they were at eye level. He stared at Percy for a long time. Close as they were, the smell of the other man burnt Percy’s nose and stung his eyes—putrid, like the sick that he’d thrown up.

“Put me down. I demand it.” Percy had never heard his papa be mean to anyone, but he had heard him use big words and make demands, and people always listened.

“Ya hear that, Sparky? The bloody king demands it.”

Sparky ... What a silly name for a man who looked like a bear.

Sparky’s buglike eyes went wide. “Oi ’eard ’im, Penge.”

And then the pair of strangers burst out laughing.

Percy cried out as Penge set him down so hard his knees buckled and he hit the ground again.

The tooth slipped free of his hand, and, his cheek pressed to the wet stones, Percy stretched his fingers, reaching for it.

“Boy’s mad,” the bear—Sparky—was saying. “Ain’t of any use to anyone. And certainly ain’t going to be of any use to ’im.”

Him? Who is “him”?

And Percy quite decided then that he didn’t want to be of use to anyone who knew these men.

“We already paid coin for the little shite. Another mad king we ’ave here in England. Let’s go, Yar Majesty. Ya’ve subjects to meet.”

---