Page 49

Chapter

Forty-Four

Adara

T he three most powerful landowners in Bernira sat at her table.

Men that Adara had met at various gatherings with Elvin, the same men whose fathers were entertained by her father as she grew up.

They calmly shared a meal amid a room of chaos.

Chairs were upended, wreaths discarded and trampled, the fireplace held the remains of one of her cushioned chairs.

Bootprints covered the floor and the scent of piss and sweat clogged the room.

The man with a shock of silver hair stood, his gaze falling to Adara.

“Lady Clayton and Lord Clayton, I assume. I am Lord Richard Bennet. Ruler of Bennet Pass, your closest neighbor to the north.”

The man’s utter calm made Adara’s heartbeat quicken. Grahame turned his body ever so slightly to block her from view. She was grateful for it. There was no reason for these men, these powerful lords, to be seated at her table so casually.

“Aye, I am Lord Clayton. I hope you will tell me why you are supping at my table before I put this blade through you, Bennet.”

The other lords, one with hair and beard the color of copper and the other with a drab face beneath a mop of brown, shared a look of surprise before casting their gaze back to Bennet. Lord Bennet’s hands rose in supplication as he took a step toward them, a smile pasted beneath his hawkish nose.

“There is no need for that,” the man said, halting a little ways before them.

Adara had to hand it to the man for his confidence. Ridley and Yrsa looked as if they were about to string him up by his innards. Grahame was not much better. He glowered at the man, hate rolling off him in waves.

“Myself and Lords Mehghan and Lowry,” Bennet gave a slight nod to the seated men, “understand that the earl is dead. His son or brother is next in line to inherit the title.”

Adara’s lip curled. She placed a hand on Grahame’s arm, a silent request to pass. He inched to the side. Adara squeezed his arm as she stood beside him.

“My father had no brothers. Nor sons,” she said, her words strong.

Bennet’s steely brows rose, though no surprise decorated his face. He clasped his hands in front of him as a smile touched the corners of his thin lips.

“Indeed. Something we advised him on for years. He would have taken another wife to remedy the problem, however, the Lady of Bernira being cousin to the king made the matter more complicated.”

“Your point?” Adara snipped. These men had taken arms against her and had raided her home.

“Our point is that you are what we are left with, Lady Clayton. If Elvin were still alive, we’d have a leader through wedlock. Since he is no longer of this earth, we are left with you and the contested man you’ve married.”

“Believing in our marriage and siding with Lady Clayton were options before this battle started.” Grahame’s voice was sharp behind her.

Bennet inclined his head. “We did not see it to be true until recently.”

“You mean, until Eadric was slain by his daughter?” Ridley said. He lowered his weapon, though he did not move forward into the room.

Lowry blinked rapidly at the statement though Bennet had the audacity to appear unsurprised. He steepled his fingers together before bringing them apart.

“Patricide is a sin,” Bennet said calmly.

“So is killing one’s daughter!” Grahame bellowed.

Swift and sure, he strode past Ridley and Yrsa, halting mere feet from Bennet. The shorter man finally flinched.

“Eadric came at her on the battlefield. I witnessed it. He was about to end his own line rather than accept our marriage. And for what? To gain the Britons ? The ones who turned tail and ran after a few days? He put countless lives at stake in order to satisfy his own sense of righteousness!"

Adara had never seen Grahame so barbaric. His shoulders flared as he yelled, eating up space. To his credit, Bennet took the verbal lashing. He stood there, staring up at Grahame, his smile growing. When Grahame finished, Bennet spoke.

“It appears as if you fit the mold of an earl, Lord Clayton of Hyrstow.”

Adara stepped forward, fitting her hand into Grahame’s as confusion swept his features.

“It’s what we remained to tell you,” copper-haired Lord Mehghan said, his eyes shifting between Grahame and Adara.

“I do not know what the king will say about this,” Bennet continued, as if the other lord hadn’t spoken, “but Lady Clayton and, by proxy, you, are the only living candidates for leadership. I would scrabble for it, however, I’m an old man.

I’d like to live out the rest of my years in my home without the threat of war looming.

I do not condone the rule of a woman, yet Eadric had brought enough troubles to my doorstep as of late.

You see, we never wanted the Briton’s involvement, yet Eadric impressed upon us the importance of the partnership.

And, as events unfolded, we now understand the error of our underestimation. ”

Grahame’s hand tightened on Adara’s. “Get to the point, Bennet.”

“Our allegiance,” the lord sputtered, throat bobbing as he swallowed, “is yours. We have heard rumors of the manner in which you defended Guston. Yours is the house we will honor if testimony is needed. It is your birthright.”

Adara tried not to show her surprise but feared it was written in her slow blink as she absorbed Bennet’s words.

“You would allow me to rule as earl?” she asked.

Bennet shook his head as he turned back to the table to pour a cup of wine.

The look he wore was one of apology. “You are a woman. We cannot support you, though we can support House Clayton, of which your husband is now the head. We can support the decisions he makes, with your heavy influence, I’m sure. ”

Adara wished the slight didn’t hurt. Wished no part of her was contested. But he spoke the truth. It was doubtful anyone would consider her a worthy ruler. That her father’s lords were even considering her to have input in Grahame’s decisions was a surprise.

“And if I don’t accept your support? If we put you to death right here and now for going to war on us?” Grahame snarled.

Bennet’s smile was serene, though he retreated a step. “Then we will die by your hand as you try to remake an earldom without its largest landowners. The task will be difficult—nay, impossible.”

“And why should we trust you? Why didn’t the retreating Britons kill you when they left with Galan?” Adara asked.

Bennet’s face fell into confusion before righting. “Galan is dead. I believe you killed him before we were all gathered here.”

There it was. Her father’s final lie brought to light.

A shout from outside penetrated the walls. All heads snapped in the direction of the window near the fire.

“An ambush?” Yrsa demanded, brandishing her sword at the men.

Lowry shook his head frantically.

“No. The Britons left when they discovered the Briton prince was dead. Eadric told them he still lived. I believe they would have killed him for it. They didn’t want a war with Northumbria and Wessex just to gain Bernira land. There is no surprise with us!”

Ridley growled in frustration, backing through the house the way they’d come, Yrsa on his heels. Adara followed. She had to see, had to know what threat could shake them now. Their war band was too few. There was nowhere for them to flee. They would be trapped inside the siege of her own making.

Hagan was already at the gate. He peered through the peep-hole.

“What is it, Hagan?” Ridley asked.

“It’s Langley. Deircia has come to aid us,” Hagan said. A collective gasp swept through the lot of them as the gate revealed Deircia’s flags flapping in the distance, accompanied by a group of knights at least a hundred strong.