Page 6

Only a handful of adults from her family attended, along with the priest. It was a business transaction and they treated it as such.

Julep was ghostly pale. Her freckles stood out, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She was so unsteady, her aunt had to support her as she made her way up front. Even as sick as she was, she wouldn't let her uncle touch her.

Her aunt hovered, undecided whether she should leave as protocol demanded. It would look bad if the bride fell over.

Artur had been standing before the priest, studying the idiotic marriage contract they thought he would sign. Had they been drunk when they wrote it? Even a child would know better than to sign it. No matter. He'd brought his own contract, and that would be the one he would sign after the marriage.

If the uncle gave him any trouble, he would make him eat this moronic paper...along with some of his teeth.

He looked up as Julep was escorted in and froze. “What's wrong? Are you sick?” They could have waited, or at least informed him.

The aunt started to babble something. “Shut up,” he said coldly.

She shut up.

Julep met his eyes. She was wearing the same ball gown, but no one had bothered with makeup and her hair was in a simple braid. It was clear they hadn't felt like dressing up cheap sausage like a steak today. The lack of respect to her, on top of her clear illness, made him see red.

The lack of respect for him would be painful. The disregard for her would be gruesome.

“They made me drink infertility tea.”

Oh, they would regret that. He scanned her face. She'd probably been throwing up for hours. At minimum, she was in pain and cramping, possibly bleeding. They made her walk up here and stand in front of everyone to get married to a killer.

“All the adults agreed?” he said thoughtfully.

She shot him a nervous look, sensing his rage. “Just the adults.”

He nodded. “First things first.” He looked at the priest. “I accept this woman as my wife.” He looked at Julep. “Your turn. Do you accept me as your husband?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

The priest spluttered. He didn't appreciate being left out of the service and began to protest. “Now see here...!”

Artur ignored the priest and escorted his new wife over to sign the documents he’d brought. His signature was bold, hers weak and scratchy.

“What do you think you're doing?” Wex demanded. “If you think you can just waltz in here and rob me by swapping papers...give me that, you dumb green..!” He shoved Artur and snatched at the paper.

Artur punched him so hard he skidded across the room on his butt and plowed into the guest’s chairs. His son, who had been sitting in one of the chairs, swore. He jumped up and began to shout threats.

Wex sat on the floor, stunned and leaking blood. No one rushed to help him.

Artur turned to his new wife and asked gently, “Do you have any belongings you need to collect, wife? No?”

“Rooster, please escort my wife to our carriage and take her to see a doctor. I have some business to take care of here.”

Her legs crumpled, so he scooped her up and handed her gently off to Rooster. “Hurry now.”

Her uncle struggled up and threw off his wife's belated help. He started to speak.

Artur held up a hand and waited until his wife was out of the room. He then gave Wex his full attention.

Wex froze.

“You are in breach of contract.” His tone was cool and precise.

The man puffed up. “You're mad about the tea? It's fine. It won't affect her use.”

Artur raised a brow. “You conspired to rob me.”

“She's right there,” Wex blustered. He gestured towards the door his niece had been carried out and noticed the priest slipping away. Coward!

“She's maimed,” Artur said reasonably.

“That's just silly!” Wex's son butted in. “It won't affect her service. She's still got all her limbs.”

“Hmm.” Artur's slow smile was pure evil. “You've given me an idea for an appropriate punishment. Don't worry, it won't affect your life. You’ll still have all your limbs.” He beckoned one of his men forward and said casually. “Cut their noses off.”

The room erupted with shrieks and curses. Amidst the hubbub, one young woman fell to her knees in front of Artur. “Please! I didn't want it to happen. No one would listen to me.”

Her family shouted abuse at her. No one accused her of lying.

“Mercy!” her eyes were glassy and wide with fear.

Artur looked at her thoughtfully. No one else was smart enough to ask for mercy. Besides, there would soon be orphans. He didn't think this lot would survive the vanity of having been maimed. There would be suicides.

“I'm putting you in charge. You will raise the next generation to appreciate mercy.” He looked at his subordinate. “Just take her little finger.”

“But, but...!” she protested as she was seized.

Artur looked at her. “Next time, you will try harder.”