Delusions of Loyalty (The Braykith Series Book 2)

by Jennifer R. Kenny

  Thomas nodded. “I am sure I am overanalysing it.” He lied, but Evangeline did not call him out on it, and so he felt safe in speaking it. “How long will she be staying?” Thomas asked.

  Evangeline shrugged. “I am not sure.” She admitted. “But she will be staying for at least a day so have her room tended to in the morning and prepared for the evening.”

  Thomas bowed. They had come to her bedroom door. “Glais is waiting for you,” Thomas warned her.

  Evangeline looked at the door. “Why do I always feel like I am being passed from you to him and back again. Am I ever to be alone again?” She asked rhetorically.

  “Not if I can help it.” He dared brush his fingertips against hers. Before Evangeline could make more of the gesture, he withdrew, bowed and turned quickly to return to his original evening post.

  Evangeline watched him walk away. She knew that Glais was tired of her ultimatums, and yet she felt like it was the only way she could function in this world. There could be no grey in her life. Evangeline could not be Glais’ wife and the lady who loved Thomas. She needed to choose, and unfortunately, the choice had been made for her. Evangeline was tied to Glais, and she needed to embrace her role as his wife. But as Thomas walked away, Evangeline was tempted to only grab what she could and run far away from Braykith with him.

  It was a fruitless dream, and so with a heavy heart Evangeline opened the bedroom door and was greeted by silence. It was not what she had expected, so Evangeline was not shocked when she came into the bedroom to see Glais was waiting for her.

  He looked up as she entered, the triangle of his chest exposed from the low collar of his night clothes. Evangeline quickly averted her eyes, and Glais did nothing to make her more comfortable. “How is your friend?” he asked.

  Evangeline sighed gently and sat on the edge of the bed. “She was attacked. There had been some instances before where she was the target of local men who seemed to find her marital status is a personal insult or challenge. It seemed most do not approve of her decision to not take a husband.” She remembered the looks that Sable had received while shopping in the markets since she had known her. “I dare say that the men in the village are becoming far too vocal in their feelings. I do not understand it.”

  “She is young and beautiful,” Glais commented and instantly regretted it because Evangeline gave him an intense look that made him wish to take back the words. “I only meant that I can see why she would be actively persuaded by other men.” He tried to reason.

  “Tonight was too far,” Evangeline said, deciding not to argue with Glais and was pleased to see him relax as she moved the conversation forward. “I told Sable there will be an investigation into the men.”

  Glais nodded. “A good idea.”

  Evangeline looked down at her dress. “And now I must get back into my bed clothes, an ordeal that I need to remind you is all your fault.”

  Glais shrugged. “I managed the torment just fine.” He smirked.

  Evangeline looked away and pulled her hair to one side and over her shoulder. Realising what she had done, she froze, but Glais seemed not at all influenced by her exposure of her neck. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Glais nodded. “Of course, you can.” He had a feeling that to refuse her would start a fight, but he also feared what would come if he did answer her question. Usually, she asked things far too personal and grew upset when Glais could not respond in the way she wished him to. If he were not careful, then he would create tension regardless of his answer.

  Evangeline froze, embarrassed by her question but as silence claimed the space she felt the urge to fill it. “Which do you find more arousing, a bare neck or a naked body?”

  Glais sat up a little straighter in the bed. “It is entirely dependent on when I last ate.” He told her. “Seeing the bare throat of a regular donation is arousing. Even more so when I am hungry for it.” He tried to keep his voice neutral and as a matter of fact as he could when discussing the particulars of his curse. He knew the answer that Evangeline was fishing for. She wanted Glais to say that he preferred the usual lusts of men. Glais wished he could say the same.

  Evangeline nodded as if she understood, and Glais did not cause an argument by telling her explicitly that she would never understand. “And when was the last time?” she asked.

  “Late yesterday afternoon.” Once again she nodded, but Glais was not satisfied on how Evangeline was taking this news and deciphering it to fit the story she had already started to build around him. “I am always sure to take a donation before bed now. It is important that you feel safe.”

  She looked at him in the bed and did not want to know who he had been with under the disguise of making her feel safe. “What about me?” she asked. “Which would you prefer? My neck or my body?”

  Glais was stunned and desperate to say the right thing. “Whichever you are freely offering.” He finally answered, and it seemed Evangeline was satisfied with that. Glais knew better than to assume this was the last of their conversation about this matter. “Why the questions?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

  “I am just trying to learn who you are Glais. We rarely have such opportunities.” Evangeline retreated to get changed, and Glais stayed where he was.

  “You did not speak to Sable about the curse did you?” Glais called out to her.

  “No. I know better than to do that.” Evangeline answered as she struggled with the process of undressing herself and then getting back into the mere slip that was for sleeping in.

  Emerging again Evangeline was trapping her hair in a braid which made Glais sad to see. She did not know how beautiful she looked with her hair in a gentle mess in the mornings. “Such odd questions to ask without motivation.” Glais probed.

  Evangeline crawled into the bed beside him. “I saw Thomas, and spoke to Sable briefly on the questions being raised about my fertility.” She admitted. “I know what Thomas wants from me. I know what your father wants from us. But I am never sure just what it is you want from me Glais. From the beginning, you made me suspicious of your motivation, and I still see you through those lenses.” She paused in her apology.

  Glais nodded. “I suppose I can only blame myself for that.” Glais resettled in the bed, and Evangeline did the same. “I simply want what you are ready for.”

  Evangeline turned on her side to face him. “But that isn’t true either.” Glais rose an eyebrow as he looked down at her, and she sighed. “You want me to perform, to be this good wife who doesn’t act spontaneously. You want my blood and my body. And yet the idea of forcing it repulses you and so you expect me to give it freely.”

  “Are you now upset that I am attempting to be more respectful of your own desires?” Glais asked.

  Evangeline shook her head. “No, but I’m saying that I continue to be confused by you Glais.”

  He kissed her and Evangeline was too shocked to escape him. Glais forced it upon her until she responded and then pressed in close until he could steal the heat from her skin and artificially warm his own body. He broke the kiss just as suddenly but stayed close. “You confuse me too.” And with that, he turned his back on her, and Evangeline was left in the near darkness with her own thoughts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The elderly Priest had been living in Crimah his entire life. He had been born here and taken his education within the same church he stood outside of now. The priest had imagined when his life came to an end he would die here at Crimah knowing that his presence had helped guide and prepare others for the future. Never could he had guessed that Barret would destroy a thriving province so quickly.

  The priest frowned, sighing as he looked out over the lands and noticed people in the distance. Normally he would be pleased to see signs of life since the horizon had been void of it for so long now, but the way they hunched over, scurrying out and away from the manor gave him pause. Never had he seen people so afraid. Grabbing his walking stick, he started after them. “Wait, please.” h
e waved the stick until finally, the family stopped.

  Coming upon them, the priest recognised that it wasn’t one family but rather the remains of three, all hunched together off the main path. “Peter?” he directed his attention to the oldest person there. “Where are you going?”

  The other stayed down while he rose to address the priest proper. In times of unrest, faith was sometimes the only thing still freely witnessed. Peter felt the priest still deserved their respect. “Away, and if you are wise sir you would come with us,” Peter said. “It is no longer safe here.”

  “It cannot be much safer out there.” The old priest said gesturing out into the world but Peter had clearly already decided on what action he needed to take.

  Peter looked back to his group. Rebecca gave him a sharp shake of her head, and with only a moment of hesitation, he turned back to the priest. The exchange was visible, but neither man spoke of it. “Crimah is dead. Either we die with it, or the Earl will kill us himself.” Peter motioned for the others to follow him.

  “Surely that is not true.” The priest said, and it was the youngest, a girl by the name of Anne that approached him. She was only eleven years of age, and the priest knew she should not be forced to worry about such things and yet here she was preparing to leave her home for the unknown dangers of the woods.

  “I have heard it myself.” She said, looking back to the manor as if Barret could hear her from here. “The screams of the Braykith prisoners and worse is the death of the Crimah men who disobey him. Already he is recruiting from the local houses to fill out his ranks.” Anne shook her head but didn’t speak any further on the subject.

  “What has become of Darius?” The priest asked.

  “No one knows,” Peter answered as Anne re-joined the others. “No one has seen him for days.” And by the tone of his voice the priest had to guess that no one was going to risk their lives looking for the young man. “Are you coming with us?”

  The Priest shook his head. “No. I need to remain. The voice of the Gods will allow peace to enter these lands. Hopefully, with time, Earl Barret will come to his senses on what is becoming of this place.”

  Peter was going to speak, but instead, he put his hand on the priest’s shoulder. “I pray you find safe passage.”

  The priest smiled and nodded. “And I hope the same for you.” He watched them leave, the small group running off the path and into the fields, heading straight for the trees. He watched them disappear from sight, and it was only then he could indeed see the state that Crimah had become. The green was leaving the grass. Produce that should have been brought in for harvest had been allowed to stay on the land and rot.

  Animals were not contained in their pens and roamed freely without restriction. The animals did not look well, though, barely moving with the joy he was accustomed to witnessing but instead the sheep stumbled together, chewing on grass that could not sustain them. The priest suspected that these were animals that had been left to die. The smell of the corpses was sure to bring predators soon.

  The priest looked up to the skies, but there were no answers for him there. The Priest had to admit that it was becoming hard to find beauty and faith in his days now. Avoiding looking to the manor he returned to his modest church and firmly closed the door behind him. The priest would not abandon this place, but his spirits were low. He needed to pray.

  Xado would only offer those challenges to a soul if it could win against them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Baxter stood just off the path, feeling an uneasy dread come over him. He had not come to Crimah often, although he had been luckier than Glais in the respect that he had seen more of the world. He knew what a busy and functioning town looked like. While his brother was protected and groomed to take over the Kingdom, Baxter had been given the freedom to experience life with the hopes of it fuelling a passion as General of the Braykith army.

  He could not be certain of that, but it had given him many lessons that just cannot be taught. Right at this moment, as the sun grew brighter over the horizon, the homes seemed empty of life. No man tended to the livestock, and the longer Baxter watched the city, the more confident he felt that something was not right. A rustling behind him announced the arrival of their scout, who fell to one knee beside him as soon as he was able. No one wanted to be the one who got them spotted while spying.

  Grant bowed his head, and Baxter quickly nodded to hurry the process along. At times it bothered Baxter the exchanges that needed to come to pass between himself and his soldiers, and yet to ignore them would be rude and dangerous. “What have you seen?” he asked.

  “The horses are in the barn. I counted five of them.” Grant reported. “but there is no sign they have been tended to recently. Their equipment is starting to collect the marks of life from sitting still for so long. I saw the gear for Lady Evangeline’s horse sitting along with the others.”

  Baxter nodded. “Do the animals look weak?”

  Grant shook his head. “But it seems to be mercy rather than design that they have been able to care for themselves in these tense conditions.”

  “Were you able to speak with the priest?” Baxter asked. Evangeline had mentioned when she returned how the priest had been open and honest with her concerning his fears for the land of Crimah. Baxter was hoping to have a private word with him and gather further intelligence.

  Grant nodded. “I did, and he wanted me to warn that any such thing you do may be seen as treason.”

  “Treason?” Baxter looked up suddenly, curious as to why their alliance would suddenly become something to question. Never had Baxter considered the Earl of Crimah to be dangerous but there was a tension now that had not been there when he had first ridden away from home.

  “The Priest said if you still wanted to speak with him to come to his home, and to come alone. Too many men will raise suspicions.” Grant bowed and took a step backwards, finished with his report.

  “I will return within two hours. If I do not, send word to my father of all we have witnessed so far. He will be most curious about the cause of our delays.” Baxter was sure that his father was waiting for information on Crimah, but what Baxter had seen so far had made him nervous. He did not want to spring to conclusions without physical proof, and so he waited before sending back a report. He hoped that decision would not come to hurt him later.

  As the priest had suggested, Baxter approached the religious house alone. He was careful to stay on the side furthest from the main manor, but he felt that at any moment he would be discovered. He did not look like a soldier of Crimah. His clothes marked him as other, even from this great distance. Be it luck or the grace of Xado, he made it to the priests’ home without incident and was allowed entry.

  The house was basic and so different to the one in Braykith it was hard to believe it was the same religious fraction. Baxter bowed to the Priest, who simply laughed at him and brought him back to standing.

  “There is no need for that child. We must be quick, and there is much to tell you.” The old man offered Baxter a seat, and he took it. “I understand you father sent you after one of your horses returned home without its rider?”

  “That is the simple reason,” Baxter said, shifting uncomfortably on the simple wooden block that he was sitting on. “Baxter took Evangeline and Thea’s body into the woods. Evangeline might have met her own end there if Glais had not saved her.”

  The old priest nodded. “And you fear the vengeance that Earl Barret may take for this act?” Baxter nodded. “I do not see much from outside my own world. I lead the people in prayer, and I perform the rituals for life, marriage, and death. I am only telling you these things young man so you do no accuse me of keeping secrets.”

  Baxter had not considered such things until this moment, but he did not say anything about it. “Do you know what happened to the Braykith men?” Baxter asked.

  “I do.” The priest looked at the door, seeming nervous and Baxter’s hand itched for his sword. Howev
er, he did not take it. It seemed improper to do such things in the house of the Saints and Xado. “Earl Barret ordered all from Braykith who sought refuge here to be executed.” The old man’s voice was hollow, and Baxter could not believe him until it was clear this was no joke.

  Baxter’s eyes widened. “And what excuse did he give?” He demanded.

  “A series of different causes were laid against them. Crimah has been plagued for months, young prince. The eventual death of Lady Thea was merely the latest of events to bring this province grief. We are a small group, and the death of one man can echo through his neighbours and create a wave of emotion that seems to grip the nation.” The priest tried to explain but felt that Baxter would never quite understand it.

  “Explain to me all that has come to pass,” Baxter begged.

  The priest nodded. “I spoke briefly with Lady Evangeline about my suspicions, but lately, I have been forced to admit that what I suspected is most likely true. It began innocent enough. Gates left open, and livestock allowed to roam. Mild inconveniences that seemed harmless misfortunes that grew in their nature. The first to be killed was a man known as George. His family was not powerful or the keeper of vast lands, however, he was well known and liked. His sons worked hard, and his daughter seemed to be consistently happy. A blessed family here in Crimah. George went hunting and never returned.”

  “And that is a rare occurrence?” Baxter asked, although already it seemed similar to the disappearances that had been happening in Braykith.

  The priest nodded. “It is rare enough that his wife Bella came to the Earl for support in looking for him. No one dared think he was dead, and while he is an experienced woodsman, it is possible to get turned around in the woods. I do not need to tell you young Baxter that George was never located.”