Chapter Twenty-Three

R ed locked eyes with the man he'd been searching for nigh on two decades, the man he'd watched kill his uncle by stabbing him through the neck with his own knife, ripping through his windpipe until his lifeblood drained out in a gush and then a dribble. He'd watched the same man chase down his mother and do the same to her. The force of the arrow lodged in Red's shoulder had knocked him off his feet and rendered him useless. It had hurt like hell as he'd pushed to his feet and tried to get to the man before he got to his mother. But he'd failed.

He'd never forget the terror on her face as the man grabbed her and spun her around, then gripped the front of her cloak as he drove the dagger into her neck. She'd looked fearfully at Red as he was running toward her, her hand waving him away feebly before she was thrown to the ground like a useless carcass.

Red had kept running toward the man, his vision clouded with fury. As a lad of twelve, he'd been taller and broader than most boys his age, but he was not yet the size of a man. The killer had easily pushed Red aside when he tried to ram him with his good shoulder, the pain excruciating as he fell to the ground, landing on his injured side, the arrow burning with the intensity of a red-hot poker digging into his shoulder.

The man had grabbed him by his shirt front and jerked him into a sitting position as he sneered, "You're a gutsy one, aren't you, boy?"

Enraged with pure loathing, Red had spit at the man, fully expecting it would be his last act in this world.

"You have a hatred in you, boy," the man said with a twisted grin. "If I didn't have to kill you, I'd take you with me, mold your hatred into something useful."

That hesitation on the man's part, the need to linger with Red and toy with him, is what saved his life. Hawk had rounded the bend and, seeing what was happening, pulled his sword and bored down on them. The man heard the hoofbeats in time to roll away before Hawk could strike him with his sword. Hawk rounded his horse, then leaped down to come at the man, but he had run immediately for his own horse and galloped away before Hawk got to him.

Hawk had saved Red's life, and Red had been fighting loyally at his side since.

And now the man who had killed his family was staring at him with the hand of the woman he loved hooked onto his arm. The Executioner, whom he'd vowed to kill with his own hands once he found him, was standing in the presence of the king and queen of England, surrounded by the royal guard. Effectively untouchable.

He had the same sinister grin, long nose, and evil eyes as he did twenty years earlier, though he had more wrinkles in his skin and gray strands threaded through his dark hair than he did then.

"Galiena," Red said, barely able to control his fury at seeing The Executioner, or his fear for Galiena, "come to me now."

"The queen has just introduced me to this lovely lady, and I am reluctant to let her go yet." The Executioner, garbed as a friar, spoke with slow deliberation, his tone sinister and threatening—at least to Red's ears.

"Let her go now," he bit out, seeing the way he was pressing Galiena's hand to his ribs, tethering her to him. The only reason he didn't already have The Executioner's throat in his hands was because of the king's castle guards, who would have killed him before he could get to the man.

The king let out a booming laugh. "No need for jealousy, Red. This is my wife's much-loved cousin, Friar Ferrando. He will not steal your woman away." Turning to Galiena, he added, "You better do as Red says before he does something he will regret. The man is not known for his patience."

The Executioner slowly lifted his arm to release her, his gaze still locked with Red's. "I can see he has been molded into a dangerous man."

"That he has," King Edward agreed. "He is one of Sir Grogan's finest."

"Is that so?" the friar said with a slight tilt of his head.

Red could feel his teeth on the verge of cracking as Galiena scooted to his side, her face pale, and her eyes wide. He immediately pushed her behind him, not wanting The Executioner to look upon her a moment longer.

"Show some courtesy, Red," the king warned in a low voice. "Ferrando is my wife's family and the best man I know to decipher the missive. We are fortunate he is with us when we need him most."

Red remained silent for a long moment, unable to speak. Finally, he managed to say in a barely controlled voice, "Do you require anything else, Sire?"

"You are dismissed," the king said, though it was clear by his tone and demeanor that he was irritated. "As before, do not leave the city until I grant permission."

"Aye, Your Grace." The only thing that kept Red from being overcome with rage and leaping at The Executioner to strangle him was the need to protect Galiena and the knowledge that he risked being escorted straight to the dungeon instead of to the castle gate if he acted rashly.

He backed away from the dais, keeping Galiena behind him as he went. Once they were far enough away from the king that others started to fill the space between them and the dais, Red turned, putting his hands on Galiena's shoulders to keep her in front of him, and guided her quickly toward the door and out into the bailey.

"Who is he?" she asked in a hushed voice as he grabbed her hand and started toward the gates of the castle at a brisk pace. He searched all around them as they went, trying to see everywhere at once. He did not wait for Ox and Brad; they would know to wait and would join him when they were certain no one had followed them.

"We can talk about it once we are back at the house." He did not look at Galiena as he spoke, knowing that if he saw the fear in her face, he would want to sweep her up in his arms and reassure her. But there was not time for that, and he had nothing reassuring to say. He needed to get her to safety, then determine the next course of action.

He didn't take a direct route back to the house, using instead the narrow alleys and passages when possible. Once they were a few buildings away from the house, he stopped in a narrow gap between two buildings and tucked Galiena safely behind him while he watched for Ox and Bard. As they turned the corner onto the lane, he let out a short, shrill whistle. When Ox gave the signal, he emerged from the dark alcove, pulled Galiena into his side, walking as fast as he could without Galiena falling behind until he reached the weaver's house, pounding quickly on the door and calling out to Wolf and Dane to let them in.

When they were safely within the walls of the house with the door barricaded, Red pulled Galiena to him and wrapped her in a tight hug. He could feel both of their hearts pounding in their chests and realized he had not experienced fear like this since the first day he'd met The Executioner. Seeing Galiena in the man's grasp had nearly caused his knees to buckle and his sanity to snap. It galled him that, after all these years, when he finally came face to face with The Executioner, he could not take his planned vengeance right then and there. But now, Galiena's safety had to come first.

That didn't mean Red wasn't going to have his revenge, though. He most definitely would kill The Executioner, but he would have to be strategic and patient.

"Who was that man?" Ox asked.

"He is known as ‘The Executioner'," Red said. "Until now, few knew of his existence, but many have died by his hand."

"He is the man Galiena overheard in Oswestry?" Bard guessed.

"Aye," Red grunted.

"I understand now why you trust your gut," Galiena said, looking up at Red, the dazed look of suffering a shock still evident on her face. "As soon as I saw him, I got a sick feeling that there was something wrong with the man."

Red searched her eyes as he cupped the back of her head in his hand. "He didn't hurt you?"

"No. The queen introduced him as her cousin. She said he was a scholar and a trusted advisor. He is who they gave the missive to for deciphering." Her voice was thick with dismay, and fear was etched on her face. "They will never believe us. He will lie to them about the coded message and kill the baby."

"But why hasn't he killed the king's son already?" Bard asked from behind her.

"There are so many guards in the tower," Galiena explained, "including two at the nursery door, and even one in the nursery. It would be impossible for him to get near the babe without being caught." She paused for a moment, then looked up, her eyes lighting as she appeared to remember something else. "The queen said he just recently returned from Caermarthen."

"Depending on how privy The Executioner is to the king's business, or how friendly he is with the guards posted around the city, it will only be a matter of time before he discovers where we are. And the king will have our hides if I try to leave the city with Galiena." Red sighed in frustration. His instinct was to get Galiena as far away from here as possible, but even Hawk couldn't protect them if the king proclaimed them fugitives. Looking at the other four men, he said, "We will need to stay on guard."

Galiena rested her cheek against Red's chest, and he could feel her shivering. "It will be impossible to convince the king that the friar is The Executioner," she said, her voice muffled. "What are we going to do?"

Red was silent for a long moment as he looked down at the woman in his arms. Finally, he admitted, "I don't know yet."

He'd meant it when he said he would die before he let anything happen to her. He wasn't afraid to die. But he was afraid he'd fail to protect her. He'd walk through the fires of hell for Galiena; would it be enough to save her?