Darkest before Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 2) by Jayne Castel Page A

not ideal, she extracted
a bone needle and woolen thread, before turning to where Edgard and Maric
looked on.
    “You’ll need to hold him still while I do this.”
    Wordlessly, the two warriors moved to obey her. Edgard
sat behind Bryni, placed an arm around his shoulders, and passed him a knife to
bite down on. Meanwhile, Maric held his leg still. Alchflaed worked quickly,
although it was difficult in such bad light, puncturing the skin and neatly
tying four stitches. All the while, Bryni did not utter a sound. However, Alchflaed
heard his teeth grinding against the knife blade as she worked. When she
finished, he was as pale as milk and sweating, his breathing labored.
    “Thank you, Lady Alchflaed,” he managed.
    Alchflaed shook her head and smiled. “There’s no need.”
    She tucked away her needle and thread before leaving the
young man to recover. She crossed to her pony and was buckling her satchel back
onto the saddle, when Maric approached her.
    Alchflaed’s mouth went dry. Ever since leaving Eoforwic,
she had been dreading this moment.
    “I know what you are going to say,” she said quickly,
forestalling him.
    His voice was deceptively quiet when he replied.
    “And what’s that?”
    “That was all my fault. I should never have baited him.”
    “So you’re sorry for it?”
    Alchflaed finished tying the satchel closed and turned to
him. His face, partly in shadow, was the most stern she had seen it. Still,
there was something in his tone that made her own anger rise.
    “His rudeness was not to be borne,” she replied stiffly.
“He had no right to insult me.”
    “We were guests under his roof, Alchflaed.”
    “The man is a pig!”
    Maric’s gaze narrowed, his lips compressing.  “I’m not
disputing that, but what you did was arrogant and foolish.”
    Alchflaed glared at him, heat flaming in her cheeks. “ Arrogant ?
How dare you!”
    Maric did not answer her. The others moved around them,
unsaddling their horses and unpacking what necessities they would need to see
them through the night. Alchflaed knew they were listening to their argument,
but were pretending otherwise.
    Wordlessly, his mouth now a thin, angry line, Maric took
her by the arm and led her away from the rest of the party. Alchflaed tried to
twist away from his grip, but although he was not rough with her, his hold on
her was iron and she could not break free.
    Alone in the trees, he rounded on her. Alchflaed took a
hurried step backwards and found a tree trunk blocking her escape.
    “I shall address you how I choose,” he growled. “I am not
your servant.”
    “When I am Queen of Mercia you will be,” she reminded
him, anger descending in a red veil, and making her reckless.
    “I am a king’s thegn,” he replied coldly, “not your
theow.”
    “When we arrive in Tamworth, I will make sure Paeda
learns of your lack of respect,” she shot back. “You are supposed to escort me
south, not insult me.”
    Maric shoved her up against the tree trunk and pinned her
there. His face was just inches from hers, although she could barely make out
the outlines of his features in the darkness.
    “Every insult I give you is warranted,” his breath fanned
her cheek as he spoke. “You are a spoiled wench.”
    “Release me!”
    “Do you think being high born gives you an entitlement
the rest of us folk don’t deserve?”
    Tears stung Alchflaed’s eyes. She was glad the darkness
hid her distress from him; his words cut like a seax-blade.
    Is that how he sees me?
    “Cur – let me go,” she whispered. The words lacked force;
they sounded like pleading to her ears and she hated herself for it.
    “Not until I hear an apology from you,” he replied. “You
risked my life, and that of my warriors, tonight. I need to hear you will not
do that again.”
    Silence stretched between them. Alchflaed’s heart
pounded, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. His nearness confused her, the
heat of his body an unwelcome distraction from her hurt