Page 17 of Midnight Shadow

Her best friend was gone, and she’d abandoned her, had all but killed her. “It was Kenric,” she wept. The entire story spilled out, ending with, “I know he killed her.” Her grandfather stroked her back, comforting her as she spoke. “I thought of going to Knowles and telling him what Kenric did...”

“No!” her grandfather snapped.

Startled, Bria pulled back and lifted her reddened eyes to her grandfather. The terror in his gaze took her aback.

He shook his head as if clearing it. “I mean, it would do no good,” he explained. “You’re a woman. Knowles would never believe your word against his cousin’s. Kenric is his trusted sheriff. Besides, then your father would find out you’ve been on Knowles’ lands, and he strictly forbade that years ago.”

“I don’t care if Father finds out. We’re talking about Mary’s murderer. Knowles should know.”

“Knowles won’t give a damn.” Harry held Bria at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes. There was a bitterness in his voice he couldn’t disguise.

“But I’m noble,” Bria protested. “That has to count for something in Knowles’ eyes.”

“Even nobles lie, my dear.”

“But what can I do? I left Mary there, Grandfather. I can’t just... just leave her death unpunished.”

Harry stroked her hair soothingly. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Mary wasn’t one of your father’s people. She’s not your responsibility.”

“She was my friend, Grandfather,” Bria whimpered. “She was my best friend.”

“I know, Bria. I know.” Her grandfather wrapped his arm around her shoulder and began to escort her back into the safety of Castle Delaney. “But she lived on the wrong lands. She lived under the rule of a tyrant who has no sense of justice.”

The fire in the hearth crackled and hissed angrily, the flames sparking and snapping. Bria watched the tendrils. They were yelling at her for leaving Mary. She pulled her knees to her chest. Even the fire didn’t warm her cold, despondent spirit. She couldn’t forgive herself for leaving Mary with Kenric. She couldn’t forgive herself for thinking of her own life before the life of her friend.

“Little Lady?”

Bria would have smiled had she not felt so utterly miserable. It was her father’s pet name for her. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. He was tall and handsome, with a commanding presence few others could claim. His dark brown hair was speckled with gray and his face was lined with wrinkles from the sun, from worry, and from laughter, but his blue eyes held wisdom beyond his years.

Bria adored her father. She hardly noticed his left arm, which hung limp and lifeless at his side. It was a dead weight, rendered useless in the war against France. When he had returned home three years ago, Bria had nursed him back to health, but he’d never recovered from the crippling wound.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“A friend of mine died today,” she answered evasively. If he knew she’d spent the day on Knowles’ lands, he’d have her head.

“Yes,” he replied, taking the seat beside her. “I heard. And I’m sorry. But that’s part of life.”

“It doesn’t ease the pain,” Bria snapped.

“No, it doesn’t,” he answered.

“Especially when she was murdered.”

Her father was silent for a long time as he stared into the fire. “I know you’re sad, Bria, so I won’t punish you for crossing over onto Knowles’ lands.”

Bria grimaced. She didn’t care whether he punished her or not. She deserved to be punished for her cowardice. She deserved a whipping. She deserved a hundred lashes, nay a thousand!

“But I will not have my order disobeyed again. Is that understood?”

Bria nodded.

“Stay off of Knowles’ lands,” he ordered. “Let this go, Bria. I don’t want my only child hurt. Besides, you should be concentrating on choosing a suitor.”

Bria looked away from him, her teeth clenched in anger. He was so concerned with betrothing her. How could she concentrate on choosing a mate? How could she even care about her own future when her friend no longer had one?

She couldn’t let Kenric get away with Mary’s death. He’d been getting away with horrible things for far too long. Someone had to do something.

Defeat, frustration, and grief swirled within her. What could she do? Who could she go to? Her father wouldn’t accuse Kenric without proof of Mary’s death, and he could ill afford to go to war with Knowles, even if he would risk his lands for a farmer’s daughter who wasn’t even one of his own people.