remains. He will kill you.”
Henley snorted, pouring himself his fifth cup of wine. “You know I speak the truth, Amadeo,” he slurped. “You have seen how he looks at her. She weakens him like a disease. If we are to preserve what Jax has promised us, then she must be removed.”
Henley did not see Jax enter the hall, moving in the shadows as he made his way towards his men. Jax had heard the last few sentences of the conversation, not particularly surprised with the subject but exceedingly enraged. By the time Amadeo and a few of the other generals saw him, it was too late to warn Henley. The man was far gone with his opinion.
“I will do what needs to be done,” Henley pounded his fist against the table. “You will all thank me when you see how right I am. The woman is a sorceress, bleeding Jax of his resolve. He is not the man who commanded our armies to victory on the Marches. That woman is infecting him, weakening him, and she must be destroyed!”
A shadow as massive as the dead of night slipped up behind Henley. As the man lurched to his feet, he suddenly stiffened, arching his back, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The shadow behind him loomed into the light as Jax shoved a dirk deep into Henley’s ribcage, angling the blade in an upward motion so that it severed all that was critical in Henley’s chest.
Henley didn’t utter a sound as he crumpled in the throes of death; Jax grabbed him by the hair and tossed him to the ground several feet away. The knight lay there and bled to death, and Jax did not give him another thought. His focus was on the remaining ten knights around the table; the dual-colored eyes blazed with an unnatural light.
“Is there anyone else who feels as Henley did?” he asked calmly. “Come forth now and make your claim. I will listen.”
Amadeo was still seated, his eyes riveted to Jax. What had happened to Henley was not shocking; he’d seen it before. Jax de Velt was, if nothing else, capable of things most men were not. But now was not the time to provoke him. He could, quite easily, kill them all and hardly raise a sweat.
“He does not speak for all of us, my lord,” he said steadily. “He was drunk. Men say many things when they are drunk.”
Jax looked at his second in command. “Truth comes with wine.”
Amadeo simply shook his head. “He does not speak for all of us. But I would be lying if I said there are those of us who wonder why you have kept the women alive when you have never done such a thing before. Surely you must realize that.”
Jax sheathed the dirk into his mail vest. “I need not explain my reasons to you.”
“Nay, you do not.”
Jax moved around the table with the grace of a stalking cat. He was very much in battle mode even though he trusted his generals. He knew they would not move against him. Still, he had a strong sense of self-preservation. He never trusted anyone completely.
“Then let me be plain so there will be no question,” he said, reaching for his own cup of wine. “The lady of Pelinom serves a purpose. The castle is very rich and she is well-versed in administering the wealth. Even now she arranges for a harvest that will bring a good deal of wealth into the coffers. As for the other women, with the male servants either dead or run off, the castle cannot function without their assistance. They fill valuable roles at this time. That could change tomorrow, a week from now or a month from now. But at this time, they serve a necessary function. Is that clear?”
Most of the men nodded. Some of them simply looked to their wine or their food. Jax’s two-colored gaze moved over them with a mixture of suspicion and satisfaction. He’d had to quell potential rebellions before, but never ones that were the result of a woman. This was something of a new experience and he found himself far more on the defensive than usual. Perhaps because just a small part of him
Henley snorted, pouring himself his fifth cup of wine. “You know I speak the truth, Amadeo,” he slurped. “You have seen how he looks at her. She weakens him like a disease. If we are to preserve what Jax has promised us, then she must be removed.”
Henley did not see Jax enter the hall, moving in the shadows as he made his way towards his men. Jax had heard the last few sentences of the conversation, not particularly surprised with the subject but exceedingly enraged. By the time Amadeo and a few of the other generals saw him, it was too late to warn Henley. The man was far gone with his opinion.
“I will do what needs to be done,” Henley pounded his fist against the table. “You will all thank me when you see how right I am. The woman is a sorceress, bleeding Jax of his resolve. He is not the man who commanded our armies to victory on the Marches. That woman is infecting him, weakening him, and she must be destroyed!”
A shadow as massive as the dead of night slipped up behind Henley. As the man lurched to his feet, he suddenly stiffened, arching his back, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The shadow behind him loomed into the light as Jax shoved a dirk deep into Henley’s ribcage, angling the blade in an upward motion so that it severed all that was critical in Henley’s chest.
Henley didn’t utter a sound as he crumpled in the throes of death; Jax grabbed him by the hair and tossed him to the ground several feet away. The knight lay there and bled to death, and Jax did not give him another thought. His focus was on the remaining ten knights around the table; the dual-colored eyes blazed with an unnatural light.
“Is there anyone else who feels as Henley did?” he asked calmly. “Come forth now and make your claim. I will listen.”
Amadeo was still seated, his eyes riveted to Jax. What had happened to Henley was not shocking; he’d seen it before. Jax de Velt was, if nothing else, capable of things most men were not. But now was not the time to provoke him. He could, quite easily, kill them all and hardly raise a sweat.
“He does not speak for all of us, my lord,” he said steadily. “He was drunk. Men say many things when they are drunk.”
Jax looked at his second in command. “Truth comes with wine.”
Amadeo simply shook his head. “He does not speak for all of us. But I would be lying if I said there are those of us who wonder why you have kept the women alive when you have never done such a thing before. Surely you must realize that.”
Jax sheathed the dirk into his mail vest. “I need not explain my reasons to you.”
“Nay, you do not.”
Jax moved around the table with the grace of a stalking cat. He was very much in battle mode even though he trusted his generals. He knew they would not move against him. Still, he had a strong sense of self-preservation. He never trusted anyone completely.
“Then let me be plain so there will be no question,” he said, reaching for his own cup of wine. “The lady of Pelinom serves a purpose. The castle is very rich and she is well-versed in administering the wealth. Even now she arranges for a harvest that will bring a good deal of wealth into the coffers. As for the other women, with the male servants either dead or run off, the castle cannot function without their assistance. They fill valuable roles at this time. That could change tomorrow, a week from now or a month from now. But at this time, they serve a necessary function. Is that clear?”
Most of the men nodded. Some of them simply looked to their wine or their food. Jax’s two-colored gaze moved over them with a mixture of suspicion and satisfaction. He’d had to quell potential rebellions before, but never ones that were the result of a woman. This was something of a new experience and he found himself far more on the defensive than usual. Perhaps because just a small part of him
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