“You will tell me if you have any pain,” he ordered, his thought leaving him worried and apprehensive of letting go of her. In his arms, he could keep her safe. Besides, he enjoyed having her there tucked against him, his hand resting at the curve of her slim waist.
“You would know immediately since I would chatter endlessly about it while trying to make sense of it and determining what to do for it.”
He shook his head and a teasing smile spread across his lips. “I will remember that and know that when silence strikes you, it is time to worry.”
“Precisely,” she said. “Now we have another mystery to solve… who killed the cleric?”
Torin was about to tell her that she was not to concern herself with it when he realized that would be impossible for her to do. So, he held his tongue and continued to hold her.
Flora went right on asking questions. “Why would anyone want to kill the cleric?” Her eyes suddenly rounded. “Or was the cleric his target? Could he have been aiming at someone else and the cleric got in his way?” She gasped and felt her husband’s arm tighten around her. “He stepped in front of me.” She shook her head. “That makes no sense. Why would someone want me dead?”
Torin did not like her questions and the direction they were going. But she was right. If the cleric had not stepped in front of her, she would be dead right now. Anger raced through him at an alarming speed, and he wanted nothing more than to catch the man responsible and see if it was true… that his target was Flora.
Shouts had them both turning to see Kinnell, along with several warriors, marching a large man toward them. People were mulling about cheering the quick capture of the culprit.
“He is not restrained in any way and he walks with confidence, not fear, and he and the others do not look as though they have been in a scuffle. Did he simply surrender to them?” Flora asked.
Torin listened to his wife, thinking much the same as she did.
“And look at the size of him. He is no small man, tall and broad, and his hair cut close to his scalp yet he has a full dark beard.” She quieted as they drew closer and saw that the man had a scar across one cheek, one at his neck, and a smaller one on his brow. That he was a warrior was obvious.
Again, Torin thought the same as his wife, though he was familiar with the man’s type. He was a man for hire… a renegade.
“This is Walsh, my lord, and whether he tells a truth or tale, I do not know,” Kinnell said.
More people joined the ones who had gathered after the incident, whispering, wondering, and worrying.
“There is another man being brought here as well, but unfortunately he cannot tell his tale since he is dead,” Kinnell said. “We have only Walsh’s tale.”
“How do I believe the word of a renegade?” Torin challenged.
Walsh gave a hardy laugh. “The same as how I would believe the word of a noble—not at all.”
“Tell me your tale,” Torin ordered, seeing the man did not intimidate easily.
“It is cold, and I am thirsty. A warm spot to rest and a hot drink would do much to help me tell my tale,” Walsh said.
“That is true,” Flora said. “A tale is much better told in front of a hearth with a hot brew in hand. You are most welcome to share the heat of our hearth and warm yourself with a hot brew and food if you are hungry.” She looked to Torin. “With your permission, my lord.”
Torin had grown annoyed as his wife appeared to take command until she turned to him and asked his permission. He caught the slight tilt of her head and the way her eyes lit. It made him realize she was up to something and if it helped get to the truth then he would oblige her.
“Aye, wife, see it done,” Torin said.
“Anwen!” she called out as Flora turned searching for the woman who was already heading toward her, and they both hurried to the keep’s stairs.
“Come, we will talk,” Torin said and looked to Kinnell who turned to the two warriors behind him and whispered something, then he caught up with Torin and Walsh to follow them into the keep.
Torin was surprised that drink was already on the table closest to the hearth and that servants lingered if anyone should need anything. However, he was not surprised to see his wife seated at the table. Her message was clear… she would not be left out.
“Your wife joins us?” Walsh asked, not hiding his surprise.
Torin smiled. “My wife loves a good tale.”
“It isn’t that kind of tale,” Walsh whispered. “Might not be suitable for her to hear.”
“I have already heard gruesome tales,” Flora called out.
“How did she hear me? I was whispering,” Walsh said.