Page 20 of Reign of Wicked Temptation

Henry glanced ahead noting the familiar horse, leading the one which carried him. Crispin lay draped across the saddle in the same manner. A hooded figure led Ghost by the reins.

He relaxed again, allowing his head to hang. Such strain drained him of whatever strength remained. He breathed in and out, over and over, until he could focus on nothing but the journey. The sound of rushing water returned. When the cadence of the horse’s steps echoed on the hard cobblestone, Henry bristled.

They were being returned to Francis.

Whoever wore the hood must be in Francis’s employ. He wished for nothing more than to run a blade through the back of the traitorous bastard who dared align himself with such a deviant snake.

Henry restrained his immediate impulse to break free and fight. They were bound, and in his weakened state, resistance would serve no purpose other than to sustain more injury. Instead, Henry feigned unconsciousness. When the horse came to a halt, Henry braced himself for the incoming assault.

“You have done well.” Francis’s voice grated against Henry’s throbbing skull.

Henry could no longer pretend when a firm hand ripped him from the saddle and tossed him to the ground. He groaned and rolled onto his side, glaring up at the bastard he once called a friend.

Francis stood in the middle of a well-lit courtyard with a twisted smile of joy on his withered lips. “Still alive, I see. How delightful.”

Crispin landed in a heap beside him. The impact shook him awake. He struggled against his bonds for a moment before he met Henry’s gaze. Then, as if sensing his brother’s presence, he turned to face Francis.

“You wretched son of a bitch.” Crispin attempted to scramble to his feet and charge at Francis, but the two guards rushed forward and beat him into compliance.

Henry’s gut twisted in sympathy at the sight of Crispin doubled over, his head pressed to the stone as he caught his breath. When he lifted his head, he spat a mouthful of blood before meeting Francis’s gaze once more.

“Mark my words, brother, I will strip you of your dignity before I end your life. This I vow.” Crispin’s words made the hair on Henry’s neck stand on end. If there were ever a soul one should never cross, ’twas Crispin. Francis would be wise to take this warning to heart.

Their captor, however, seemed unperturbed by Crispin’s outburst.

A gentle rhythmic tapping came from behind him. He turned to see the hooded figure watching the proceeding reunion like a specter. For a moment, Henry forgot about the traitor who sold them.

“Traitorous bitch. I was right to not trust you.” Crispin glowered. “I should have run you through when I had the opportunity.”

Confusion shrouded Henry’s mind. Who was this? Before he could speak, their captor peeled back his hood. An icy blade pierced Henry’s soul.

“Ivy.” He murmured her name with equal measures of horror and reverence. His heart split at the sight of her lovely face and those wide eyes, green as a spring meadow.

“I have done as you commanded.” Ivy’s voice sent another wave of spasms through Henry’s broken body. She ignored him and focused solely on Francis. “Release me from my obligation.”

“Why would I release my most valuable asset?” Francis studied her carefully.

Ivy stiffened but remained silent.

“With you by my side, I would be unstoppable. Such a lethal beauty would ensure my transition is completed without any further—delays.” He cocked his head and smiled.

“I have fulfilled my obligations. Release me,” Ivy repeated. Even though she attempted to maintain an impassive tone, Henry heard the waver of emotion beneath the surface. He hated himself for caring even though she betrayed them, repeatedly and without remorse.

“Very well.” Francis reached beneath his cloak and pulled a small roll of parchment into view. He held it out in one gloved hand, and when she stepped forward to take it, he withdrew. “First, we should celebrate. Go inside. My servants will tend you. You deserve a reprieve and a hot meal before you take your leave. ’Tis the least I can do for your dedicated service.”

Ivy’s hands clenched into fists, but she nodded and pushed past him to enter the towering building behind Francis.

Henry saw the current of tension between them. He never imagined Ivy would have been taking directions from Francis. He cursed himself for allowing her to manipulate him so effectively. He should have taken her to Crispin when he had the opportunity. Once again, he failed and there was naught he could do to alter their fate.

“Members of the Guild are not known for their loyalty.” Crispin rose against his brother.

“What would you know of loyalty?” Francis scoffed, dropping all pretenses and revealing the wicked side Crispin tried to warn them about when they uncovered the monk’s true identity. “I paid well enough for her loyalty. Without her, I would never have been able to seize the perfect moment and take the one thing you value more than yourself.”

Henry sat silently watching the interaction between the brothers. He swayed still bound and weak. Seeing Ivy, knowing she betrayed him yet again, struck a painful blow. He almost wished she would have killed him and left him in the forest. Save him the agony of such a revelation. Crispin’s response drew him from his poisoned thoughts.

“Where is she?” Crispin slowly rose to his feet. The guards stepped forward, their blades drawn and ready. Crispin ignored them. Even bound and hobbled, he commanded respect in his stance.

The brothers locked in a silent battle of wills. Henry wished he had all his faculties in order to join the inevitable fight lying on the horizon. He hung on the tension, waiting for the moment one of them would break.

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