The Knight's Prisoner (Medieval Discipline 1)

She felt Sir Ferrum's eyes on her. He must sense the turmoil she was in.

They arrived in London at nightfall, and Ferrum arranged a room above a tavern. It was one she knew, though she'd never worked in it. She saw recognition from several men, and she watched Sir Ferrum's face turn black as some of them ogled her with lewd stares. She was grateful no one openly solicited her, or she feared Ferrum would have his throat. It was probably the hard stares he was delivering that prevented it. She ignored it all, though secretly felt warm at Sir Ferrum's jealousy.

She tried to listen for the whereabouts of their men. “They're still alive,” she told Sir Ferrum, when they reached the room. “The soldiers drink in some kind of tavern like this one. But they're keeping the prisoners where they sleep.”

“Are they sleeping in the tavern where they drink?”

She unfocused her eyes to listen to the question. “Nay. Somewhere else. If we just find them at the tavern, though, we could follow them back to where they're staying.”

Ferrum nodded.

“Let's go out looking now.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she felt a surge of anger that he didn't trust her. She was at his side, her thoughts only occupied by bringing their men back. But then, she'd always made it plain she wished to leave him. She felt a twist in her heart. Would he leave her tied up here whilst he went looking for the men? Was she still just the Seer they'd captured to use as they pleased, with no consideration for her? She pressed her lips together.

“Nay, we're tired,” he said, watching her closely. “Tonight we sleep. Tomorrow we can ask around.”

They bedded down on straw mattresses, and Sir Ferrum tucked her right against him with his arm around her. She lay there, her thoughts swirling, her belly sick from it all. The stubborn part of her wanted to leave immediately, just to prove she was not a mere piece of property to be taken at will. But she loved Ferrum. She'd known it since the day of the battle when she'd turned back from her escape to care for him. And though she hadn't planned it, she had grown loyal to Prince Phillip too. His men were suffering torture or worse right now, and she had the best chance of helping them.

As her thoughts turned to the missing soldiers, she had a clear sense of where to find their captors. It was a tavern she knew only too well.

The wise thing to do would have been to wake Sir Ferrum and tell him what she'd Seen. But she was still angry with him, and the idea of asserting her freedom and independence won out. She slowly, slowly slipped out from under Sir Ferrum's arm, freezing when his snores stopped. When they started up again she moved carefully, picking up her calf-skin boots and slipping out the door. She left the tavern swiftly, not stopping to put on her boots until she was outside.

She unwound her braid as she walked, formulating her plan. As she approached her old tavern, her belly clenched into knots. The smells brought back her old life with a rush. It was a life she no longer wanted. She felt clear on that now. Being there, thinking about what she was about to do, made her sick. Sir Ferrum had been right—she had no reason to return. She wanted to tell him so, and felt a pang of longing for him, wishing she had not come alone. But it was too late. She took a deep breath and entered.

She prayed Coenred wouldn't be angry she'd been absent so long, but he gave her his usual lift of the chin and disinterested wave as if she'd never left. Four of the King's men were there in front of the hearth, getting drunk. The way her skin prickled told her they were the ones she sought. She gave her long hair a seductive toss and sashayed up to the counter to talk to Coenred. She perched on a stool and leaned forward on her elbows.

“Dani,” he grunted.

“Hello, Coenred. Listen, I want you to make those soldiers an offer for me. Tell them they can have me for the whole night to share, in their apartment for 2 silver pieces. You keep half.”

Coenred grunted an assent. It took a while before he made his way over there, but it was just as well, because it reduced suspicion. Several of her old customers came over to her while she waited, but she told them she was busy and promised to come back and serve them the following night. Her heart pounded as she watched Coenred approach her quarry.

The soldiers looked over at her. She gave them her broadest smile. They stood up and one of them fished coins out and handed them to Coenred. Success. She slid off her barstool, collecting her silver piece from Coenred as she passed him and hooked her arms through the arms of two of the men. “Take me to your beds, men, and I'll keep you warm,” she promised.