Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 162269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
“I have things to do.”
“It’s always work with you,” she huffed.
“This is because there’s always work to do,” he retorted.
“You have not been out of this castle since you were carried into it.”
He did not like the reminder, but he kept his mouth shut on that.
“And again, this is because there is much work to do, Bronagh.”
“You must enjoy life, Alfie,” she returned.
“I enjoy life fine,” he lied.
And she hooted, rolling her eyes, before she pinned him with them and stated, “Farah told me even before those horrible, horrible men did what they did to you, you were all about work and duty.”
“I made an oath,” he told her.
“I did too,” she shot back. “Nurses take their own oaths, Alfie. To care with kindness. To maintain a steady hand. To ever have a listening ear. To never cease in learning. And that is not only my vocation, it is my calling. But it’s not my life.”
“Well this,” he spread his hand over the desk in front of him, “is my life.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because…because…” She bounced in her chair with agitation, and gods, his cock jumped with the same as she did, but his reaction was caused by something much different. “Because!” she finished.
“Bronagh, much is happening,” he said low.
“And it will happen whether you sit in that chair or leave it for a few hours to enjoy a delicious vol-au-vent and then it will be here when you get back!” she declared hotly.
Bloody hell, it was irritating how clever she was.
It was especially irritating when she was clever during an argument.
He scowled at her.
She glared at him.
The door opened and King Wilmer swept in.
“I am now reduced to being summoned by a bloody knight,” he groused instead of saying a greeting. “A crippled one.”
Alfie’s hands curled into fists.
Bronagh leapt from her chair.
When she did, Alfie’s attention instantly shifted to her.
“Bronagh,” he warned.
“No,” she snapped, looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes wild with anger.
And gods, that look in her eyes…
If he had legs…
“What he said was not all right,” she finished.
Fuck.
“Honey, no,” he said gently.
Her eyes warmed considerably at hearing his endearment, something he had never given her, before she seemed to struggle and do it mightily.
But thankfully quietly.
She then declared, “King True will hear of this. And we,” she pointed a finger rudely, but adorably, at Alfie, “are not done.”
With that, she flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“You should not accept that behavior from a nurse,” Wilmer advised.
It would be a snowy day in Firenze before Alfie took Wilmer’s advice.
“There was a massacre in the Lesser Thicket Forest,” he announced. “Thirty-two women had their throats slit after they were violated and stabbed. The bodies of two men were found with them. This in an area that beseeched the crown repeatedly, as women with some regularity for some years had gone missing.”
Wilmer blanched.
Seeing it, Alfie seethed.
This bloody imbecile.
“You know of this?” he pushed.
“Carrington told me he dispatched investigators. They were found to be runaways.”
“I’m certain it is now unsurprising to you, but Carrington lied.”
“By the gods,” Wilmer whispered.
Indeed.
For if Carrington lied about this, it could have to do with his caring naught about the citizens of Wodell.
It could also have to do with The Rising.
“Do you remember aught else about it?” Alfie asked.
“I really…I just really…” Wilmer’s shoulders sagged as he muttered, “I did not pay much attention.”
“Thirty-two women are dead, and it is an assumption, but whatever number of girls went missing before them, they might be in the same state, for they have never been found. Does this not penetrate with you?”
The man’s shoulders straightened as he admonished, “You are still speaking to a king.”
“It is a title True left you with because his mother would wish it. But it has no meaning. And I would assume, by your reply, that the deaths of your citizens by such appalling means actually doesn’t penetrate. Which, in turn, indicates you have no meaning.”
Angry red rushed up Wilmer’s neck to his face.
“We are done,” Alfie muttered. “I have things to do.”
“I would go to Bishop Cross,” Wilmer suddenly declared.
Alfie stared at him.
“Gallienus told me I had an open invitation to holiday there,” he continued. “It is warm at the Cross. And far from here. I will take my manservant and enough staff to manage the castle situated there and I will stay for the foreseeable future. This…all these…” he threw out a weak hand, “goings-on. They weary me.”
Alfie did not remind him that Gallienus was no longer in the position to invite anything.
Nor did he share Wilmer was no longer in the position to requisition staff to take anywhere.
But as True would likely not hesitate to demur, Alfie didn’t.
Thus, he asked, “Will you sail, or will you ride?”
“I see I will not be missed,” Wilmer sniffed.
“No, you won’t,” Alfie affirmed without hesitation.