Page 7 of Stay with Me

Simon nodded at the guards. One of them stepped forward hesitantly, holding chains and shackles.

“Since you persist in your treason, you leave me no choice but to force you to confess.”

Nicholas wasn’t surprised Simon intended to whip him publicly again today.

His brother would do it again on the morrow, and the next day, until Nicholas finally died or revealed information to benefit the French.

Nicholas pushed up from the ground and approached the bars. As soon as the first guard opened the door, Nicholas would attack and overcome him.

“Do not think about resisting me, Brother.” Simon peered down the passageway and out the dungeon doorway.

Nicholas followed Simon’s gaze. On the opposite side of the door stood Mother flanked by guards. Her eyes brimmed with fear and an apology.

Saint’s blood. He should have known Simon would figure out another way to torment him.

As the other guard approached, a ring of keys in his hand, Nicholas fisted his hands at his sides and squelched the rapidly rising anger. He was helpless to do anything to save himself, not without putting Mother at risk.

If only he’d found a way to provide a home for her so she no longer had to live at Reider Castle. He’d hoped eventually to gain the king’s favor for loyal service and be rewarded with a parcel of land in the Weald, the forestland to the south of Reider Castle. But so far, Nicholas had earned nothing other than his usual pay.

Simon was watching him again, obviously waiting for him to react. “We can prevent this messy business altogether, Brother. If you freely own your crimes, I promise a swift death instead of the hanging, drawing, and quartering you deserve for treason.”

Yes, a swift death was preferable to the method reserved for highest crimes of treason. “You may as well slay me today.” Nicholas said the words gravely. “For no matter how much you torture me, I will never betray my king or country.”The way you have.

Those final words begged to be spoken, but he held them back. Instead, as the guards unlocked the cell door, he prayed his angel would come to rescue him ere it was too late.

~ 4 ~

Everything she’d ever doneto help Dawson had failed.

Stifling a frustrated sigh, Sybil placed both bags of groceries on the table, shoving aside dirty dishes, takeaway containers, and pizza boxes.

The blare of the TV from his bedroom wasn’t a good sign. It meant he was lying in bed and sulking. Like usual.

“Hey, Sybil.” Acey limped into the kitchen with his cane, his pant leg empty, his prosthesis missing. A massive man with curly red hair and a full red beard, Acey had enough energy for a whole platoon.

Sybil nodded at Dawson’s closed door. “Bad day?”

“Got that right.” The tap of Acey’s cane against the vinyl floor was heavy as he made his way to the fridge. The ground-level flat was spacious, but the place was sparsely furnished without a single decoration. A light above the sink dispelled the darkness that had fallen in the May evening.

She’d hoped after eight years home from the war, Dawson would have his life sorted out. But with every passing day, he fell farther from the vibrant and caring man he’d once been.

She yanked items out of the bags—apples, bananas, lettuce, a cucumber, milk, organic wholegrain bread, nuts, and other healthy foods. The kind of food Dawson needed to eat instead of the junk littering the kitchen.

“Tried to set him up on a date last night.” Acey swung open the fridge door and pulled out a carton of OJ. Without bothering to close the door, he popped off the cover and guzzled the juice.

Sybil folded her recyclable bags, then started tossing the past few days’ worth of leftovers into the rubbish bin. “I take it he wasn’t keen on it?”

Wiping his tattooed arm across his mouth, Acey shook his head. “Shame too. She was a right pretty little thing.” He shoved the OJ back on the top shelf before rummaging around.

Not for the first time, Sybil wished Dawson had taken up Acey’s outlook on life. Acey had lost half his leg and hadn’t let the disability stop him from living. Why did Dawson let his lack of sight hold him back?

“She got here, and he wouldn’t even open his door to meet her.” Acey slapped the fridge closed with a force that told Sybil he was more flabbergasted than usual with Dawson’s attitude. “Shouted at me to shove it—well, you can guess where.”

Sybil nodded curtly, appreciative that Acey always made a point of controlling his swearing around her.

“Last time I try to help him.” Acey tugged open the freezer and grabbed a gallon of ice cream. The lid was gone, and a spoon stuck out. Acey shoveled the spoon deeper, his arm muscles straining. “I don’t think I can keep doing this, Sybil.”

She paused in crumpling a piece of greasy aluminum and gave Acey her full attention. This wasn’t the first time Dawson and Acey had a row. But she’d never heard Acey mention quitting. Was he serious?

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