Page 31 of The Warrior Priest (After the Rift #1)

“ A re you going to simply accept this?” Rufus shouted at his friend.

Rhys held out his bound hands and one of the guards untied them.

He went to help Rhys remove his tunic, but Rhys did it himself.

Naked from the waist up, he walked past the high priest and several guards to a post at the far side of the courtyard.

I’d seen it before and presumed it was used to tie horses to.

Rhys stood facing it and circled his arms around it.

The guard with the rope tied Rhys’s hands together again.

“That’s not necessary,” Rufus growled.

“It’s protocol,” the high priest said.

“Bollocks to protocol!”

The high priest bristled.

Rhys shook his head at his friends in warning. “If you can’t accept my punishment then leave. You’re within your rights to do so.”

“Rights,” Rufus snarled. “This is a farce. If you’re being punished for being with these women, then so should most of them!” He pointed at his fellow brothers in a sweeping arc. “How many of you can say you’ve kept the oath of celibacy, or the vow of poverty?”

“Go!” Rhys growled.

Rufus stormed off to the garrison, shaking his head. Vizah followed, but not before casting a forlorn look back at Rhys, tied to the post. He, too, shook his head before disappearing inside.

Andreas stayed. He moved up to be closer to Rhys, but without his sword, he couldn’t fight off the high priest’s guards to free Rhys. Indeed, I doubted he wanted to. Rhys wouldn’t want him to, either.

The biggest of the guards retrieved a leather strap from a box. He pulled hard on the ends as he moved up behind Rhys. The crack of the leather was loud in the courtyard. He struck the first blow across Rhys’s bare back before I was even ready.

Rhys wasn’t ready either, if his grunt was any indication. A red welt striped his back, but the blow hadn’t drawn blood.

I bit my tongue to stop myself crying out. Being discovered wouldn’t help Rhys. It would only make them think I was indeed one of his lovers, just as the high priest’s list claimed. There was nothing to do except endure.

I wanted to turn my face away and block my ears to the sounds of the whip flaying flesh, but I forced myself to watch. Rhys had to endure it. So could I.

After the tenth lash, tears were rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks. By the twentieth, blood oozed from the wounds on Rhys’s back. Apart from the first blow, Rhys had remained silent as each lash of the strap struck.

The moment the last one had been inflicted, Andreas rushed forward and untied his hands. Rhys stepped away from the post, rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck muscles.

Then he slowly turned around. His face was impassive, with not a hint of pain on it. He thanked the guard who’d whipped him, as if the man had done Rhys a favor. The guard nodded, respectful.

I pressed a hand to my chest over my heart. It ached. My throat was tight and my tears still flowed. It felt as though I’d never be able to stop crying. I desperately wanted to speak to Rhys and tend to his wounds as he’d so gently tended to mine.

But he remained in the courtyard. Even if he entered the garrison, how would I get in there without being seen?

He addressed the high priest. “If your business is concluded, Your Eminence, the men need to train.”

“Of course.” The high priest stepped down from his platform and did something I didn’t expect. He embraced Rhys, careful not to touch the wounds on his back. “My son, I am sorry, but it is the law of Merdu’s Guards.”

“I know.”

“You took your punishment with courage and fortitude. You have admitted the faults of your past.” He drew in a breath.

It was difficult to tell from a distance, but it looked as though his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“You embody every quality that a master of Merdu’s Guards needs to possess.

I support you as master, if you say you are committed. ”

“I am.”

Was it a tactic? Was the entire thing a show, put on by the high priest to appease those who were angry with Rhys for breaking his vow?

He’d just proved to them all how strong Rhys was, how brave.

These men respected courage, pride and the physical embodiment of masculinity, and the high priest knew that whipping Rhys in front of them was the best way to prove to them that he possessed those qualities in abundance.

Had Rhys known?

“Good,” the high priest declared. “Now, we vote.”

“Vote?” Andreas asked. “For what?”

“For Rhys to remain as master of the order of Merdu’s Guards.”

Andreas and the other brothers looked confused. The high priest merely repeated the question.

“A show of hands. Who wishes to keep Rhys as master of the order of Merdu’s Guards?”

Hands went up all over the courtyard. I quickly counted. There wasn’t quite enough. Andreas shouted for Vizah and Rufus to come back out. Moments later, when they understood the situation, they both raised their hands. Rufus glowered at the high priest the entire time.

Their votes were enough to keep Rhys as master, but the near-even split meant he clung to the position by his fingernails. It was what Uncle Roderic wanted, a destabilizing of the order, and of Rhys’s authority in particular.

The high priest had done his best to reinstate respect for Rhys with that display at the whipping post. It had worked.

Several priests who’d been vocal in condemning Rhys as the list of names was read out had voted in Rhys’s favor.

The high priest had gambled and won. It was the outcome he’d wanted after my uncle’s efforts created discord.

Rhys had become a key component in the game between two powerful men, both using him for their own ends. It was unfair, but there was nothing to be done now. Hopefully this was the end.

“You have voted,” the high priest declared.

“Rhys remains as master. I know he will lead you all with humility and courage. You should be proud to have him as your leader. I’ve never seen another like him in my lifetime.

Nor had Master Tomaj. Remember, Rhys was his choice because Rhys is the best choice. ”

Rhys thanked him for his words with a nod. “I will not let you down again. None of you. I’ll pray to Merdu for forgiveness, but it is your forgiveness I now seek. I promise to be a better priest in future.”

It was Rhys’s promise that got more heads nodding, even some who’d voted against him. The speech from the high priest had been good, but Rhys’s had been the one they needed to hear.

Not all were swayed, however. A few walked off, disgusted.

I was relieved to see Rhys return to the garrison after the high priest left. The brothers began their training session, but none of Rhys’s close friends joined in. Hopefully they were tending to his wounds.

Despite every fiber of my being wanting to see him, I knew I couldn’t. His position as master was too precarious and the presence of a woman in the temple complex would undermine his authority further.

I continued on my way to Uncle Roderic’s house.

I knew the layout well, and the staff routines.

The cook would be in the kitchen, her assistant most likely shopping at the market.

The housemaids would be cleaning, while the male staff would be in the service rooms doing their chores.

The outdoor staff were the most likely to see me, especially since I needed to cross the garden, but it was the housekeeper I wanted to avoid above all others.

The dragon had been the one to lock me in, the one who’d slapped my cheek when I’d cried, and deprived me of food.

From the way her eyes shone as she called me names, she’d enjoyed being jailor of my sixteen-year-old self.

After checking that no one was about, I climbed a large tree on the street side, and crawled along a branch, dropping down onto the stone wall surrounding the property.

From the high vantage point, it was easy to see if the gardeners were about.

Only one was visible as he trimmed a hedge in the formal garden.

Once I was on the ground, he wouldn’t be able to see me, nor me him.

I lowered myself to the ground and tiptoed from tree to hedge to bush, then quickly crossed to the doors that opened onto the covered porch at the rear of the house.

They were locked but I had them open with my picking tools in a moment.

I slipped inside, into the large salon used to receive guests.

I’d intended to search it first, before moving to another room, but my uncle’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

It came from his study, located next to the salon, but I couldn’t make out any of his words or who he was with.

If he was at home, then I’d have to come back later.

I wouldn’t risk searching the house with him present.

His guards were most likely stationed at the front door and the door to his study.

My patience was rewarded when I heard a door open and his voice became clearer. But his only words were to tell his visitor to keep him informed. The visitor didn’t speak.

The front door opened and closed, presumably sending the visitor on his way, then my uncle informed the staff that he was leaving, too. A short while later, I heard the carriage roll up on the gravel then depart again.

The house fell silent, the staff presumably having retreated to the service areas. I slipped out of the salon and crouched at the door to my uncle’s study. I picked the lock then entered and closed the door behind me.

I sniffed. Sniffed again. Two familiar scents mingled in the air. I expected my uncle’s, but not the other.

Giselle.

I leaned back against the door and tried to sift through my scrambled thoughts. But out of all the possibilities, one was the most likely—if Giselle was here, it meant she’d taken on Uncle Roderic as a client. She intended to capture me for him after all.

She was going to betray me.