Page 26 of Sergi
He cut across the field, skirting the edge of the fighting. Once he was clear, he ran along the southwest side of the castle and hoped no one followed. He should have come sooner. He’dbegged the leader of his House to let him return home. Not to fight, but to get to his mother and sisters to safety.
His House leader was at odds with Sergi’s father. He worried that Sergi’s presence at the battle, should he be recognized, would appear as if their Houses were aligned. And the old male was unwilling to put his Family at odds with House Meinstein.
In a fit of fear and guilt, Sergi had made a decision that changed his life forever. When the rest of the guard was asleep, he slipped out, taking one of the horses. It was a long ride to the place of his birth, taking all night and most of the following morning. When he crested the last ridge, his heart clenched.
He’d been too late.
The two armies were fully engaged, and the enemy had reached the gates.
He wouldn’t be able to return to his House after this. His leader was a hard and unforgiving male, and Sergi would be beheaded as a traitor. But nothing mattered more than the safety of his mother and sisters.
He reached the cellar door and shook his head. His father had stopped working the orchard some time ago if the cellar door was half-hidden behind overgrown hedges. He sliced at the branches, then yanked open the door, revealing a dark passageway. He raced down it, his heart thundering with fear.
There was still hope.
He took the steep stairs two at a time but slowed when he heard fighting in the main hallway. At the door, he peered to his right. Several of his father’s guards, their armor smeared with blood, battled to hold the line. If the enemy had reached this deep into the castle, they were sure to be on the upper floors.
The hall was clear to his left, and he ran, turning down hall after hall until he reached the back staircase. He hadn’t seen a single person as he ran—no servants, no Family members, no guards. It didn’t ease the panic in his gut.
When he reached the second floor, his heart sank. Three bloodied bodies lay on the floor. One was a guard, the other two were young females. He stopped and pulled their hair away.
No. His heart twisted as he stared at his sisters’ attendants.
He didn’t hesitate, not caring who he came across. He held his sword high as he raced to the end of the hallway where the double doors were open. Blood smeared the stone floor, but he heard nothing from inside.
He raced in, slipping on pockets of pooling blood but somehow staying upright. At first, everything seemed in order until he reached the other side of the spacious bedchamber, where arched doorways led to the terrace. His steps faltered, and he reached for the wall as a sob broke from him.
Three females lay on the terrace. Blood soaked their gowns, which had been drawn up their thighs. Whoever had done this had assaulted them. His sisters had barely been of age. He wanted to shut his eyes. Wanted to drop to the floor, pull them to him, and beg their forgiveness.
His honor wouldn’t allow it.
He forced his legs to move him toward the heads that had been separated from their bodies. There was no question what he’d find. He knew by the way their hair was braided with the jeweled bands. But he had to look. He had his duty and refused to look away.
But when he saw their faces—the bruising and the fear—he broke.
He fell to his knees, dropping his sword as he placed his hands on their lifeless bodies. What had they ever done to deserve this? They had been kind, working with the sick, and supplying food for the hungry. That was the real reason they’d stayed behind. Not because Father had demanded it, but to help the servants.
When Sergi had fought with his mother and walked out, he told himself Meinstein would take them as hostages. But he knew better. He should have forced them to go with him, even if he had to drag them out of the castle.
He didn’t notice the tears that fell, dripping off his chin and falling into congealing blood. He didn’t notice anything until he heard a sword pulled from its sheath.
His hand inched toward the sword that lay at his side. When the boot steps grew closer, he grasped it. Before the person behind him could take another step, he was up, twisting and swinging the sword into a defensive position as he assessed the situation.
A single male, two inches taller with blond hair hanging to his shoulders and bulging muscles, smiled at him as he lifted his sword.
“So, the son returns.” Felix was the muscle for Meinstein. He was a despicable male, just like his leader. The male leaned to his right to look behind Sergi, where his mother and sisters lay. Felix chuckled. “I have to say, they didn’t go down easy.” He licked his lips. “But at least I got a taste of them before I took their defiant heads.”
Sergi didn’t wait. He leaped at the male. And he was merciless. Rage at the male’s words fueled his strikes. He could have been lying to get a rise out of Sergi. Though he believed the male’s boasting, it wouldn’t have mattered either way.
Felix defended himself the best he could, but the only thing driving him was his will to live. Sergi didn’t care if he died. This went beyond life. This was pure, heated vengeance. Strike after strike. Blow after blow. He drove the male back. And when he grew tired, images of earlier times pierced his rage-filled attacks. His sisters laughing in the orchard each time Sergi jumped to reach the exact apples they wanted. His smiling mother,blushing when he brought her favorite flower whenever he came for a visit.
When Felix’s movements slowed, Sergi kicked out, hit the male in the chest, and sent him sprawling. The male hit the floor hard, and within a single breath, Sergi towered over him, knocking the blade from his hand and planting his boot on Felix’s throat.
“Why? What did they do to deserve such dishonor?”
When Felix’s only response was a cruel smile, Sergi brought his blade down, the point ripping into the male’s chest, just above his armor and inches from his neck. Blood spurted from the male’s mouth, and his smile turned to a pain-filled grimace.
“Why?” Sergi shouted.
