Page 28 of Sword of Desire
Harley wondered if she was referring to Kerdan and his men. They all wore fur wraps and had black markings on their faces. The night of the takeover, when Kerdan had realized he’d been poisoned, he’d said his supplies were stashed not far from the castle. He’d also said that he would be quite ill. Perhaps he’d fallen so ill that he’d had to rest here until he was well enough to travel. Harley had seen his men and knew they were more than capable of keeping this town secure. Also, the Russek soldiers would’ve had to listen to their prince.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Lyle snapped. “Tell Lady Harley how things were before I took over.”
“They were awful.” The elderly woman spit on the ground. “The old king was a fool. He took all our food, never paid us for it, and squandered what he had.”
“And now?” Lyle asked.
“Now?” The woman waved him off. “So far, it’s better. You don’t steal from us. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“You have my word what food you grow remains your own.” With that, he steered his horse away from the huts and toward the road.
Harley followed him. Back on the road, the soldiers once again formed a loose circle around them.
She’d learned two valuable things this morning. One, that Kerdan had saved this village and these people were alive because of him. And two, even though her father had seen to her education, he’d left out some important political information—like how her uncle collected taxes and food. She hadn’t studied how other kingdoms handled these issues, so she couldn’t compare her kingdom to others.
Somehow, Harley’s lack of education in that respect didn’t surprise her. If her uncle truly was her father, then there were a lot of things that had been kept from her.
An overwhelming sense of worthlessness inundated her. She had been ill-prepared to marry Lyle, be involved in politics, act as an assassin, be a spy, and help Ackley. All she excelled at was being pretty and looking the part of a noble woman. She hated herself and how naive she was. These things would have to be rectified. She would find a way to learn more, be more, and do more. She would figure out how to do these things, and she would do them well.
* * *
When they arrived back at the castle, two dozen men were in the process of dismounting near the front doors. One shouted something about the king. Lyle nudged his horse and rode ahead to see what the commotion was.
Harley dismounted at the stables, handing her horse over to a stable boy. Two of the soldiers who’d accompanied her on the journey escorted her toward the side entrance of the castle.
“What’s going on?” She pointed to the front of the castle where all the activity was.
“I don’t know,” the man on her right answered.
“I want to see what’s happening.” She hurried over toward the group of people that had gathered.
When she got closer, she heard Lyle barking out orders for his men to stand back. They immediately complied, forming a tight circle around someone.
As she neared, she caught a glimpse of a man kneeling on the ground, a brown potato sack covering his head. Her arms tingled—there was something familiar about his shoulders and the way his back remained erect despite his situation. Though the man’s wrists had been tied together, he’d managed to undo his bindings. His hands slowly moved to his sides, his fingers curling into fists.
“Don’t even think about attacking,” Lyle sneered. “You’re vastly outnumbered.”
The soldiers all had their swords drawn and pointed at the prisoner.
“We confiscated several weapons from him,” one of the soldiers said to Lyle. “He’s clearly a trained fighter. It took all of us to get him here.”
Harley started shaking. Her first instinct was to rush forward and defend Ackley. However, Lyle would kill her on the spot for embarrassing him. She had to be calm and smart. After all, Ackley’s life depended on it.
She vaguely wondered if Ackley could attack this many men and survive. If he had his weapons, possibly. But not bare-handed. He could probably hold his own for some time. However, with over two dozen armed men, there was only so much he could do.
Lyle stepped into the circle. Harley hoped he got close enough so Ackley could kill him. She’d love to see Ackley’s hands wrapped around Lyle’s neck, squeezing the life from him. She wondered how loyal these soldiers were and if they’d help Lyle. Either these men were loyal to the crown, or Lyle had their loved one’s held somewhere to ensure their loyalty.
“You killed dozens of my men,” Lyle said, five feet away from Ackley. “You brought soldiers from another kingdom here to Melenia to overthrow me. You are a traitor and must be executed.”
While Harley knew Lyle intended to kill Ackley, she didn’t know if he planned to do it right there on the spot or if he’d throw him in the dungeon for a few days and drag it out. Her brain ran through several plans, none of them feasible. Terror took hold.
Lyle reached forward, grabbing the top of the potato sack. In one swift motion, he removed the cloth from Ackley’s head.
Ackley
Three days passed. While Ackley enjoyed his time at Audek and Vesha’s quaint home, the waiting began to drive him nuts. Gytha tried to keep him occupied. They sparred, shot bows and arrows—Audek really could use a new bow, and hunted on the nearby land. Through it all, Ackley kept imagining ways he could utilize Brodek and his men if needed.
On the fourth day, Ackley woke up just as the sun rose. He made his way to the kitchen where Vesha was already preparing a pot of cornmeal.
