Thief (Brotherhood of the Throne Book 1) Read Free

Brenna tried to keep her voice steady as she hurried to the ladder and took the steps two at a time.
    When she reached the floor of the stable she hefted her bag onto her shoulder. Then she turned towards the door to the workroom. Duke Thorold’s bulk filled the doorway, the fine rich silks and furs no doubt keeping him warm despite the cold air.
    He took a step toward her, his glare making her duck her head, but after a moment she lifted her head and met his eyes. She knew it would enrage him but she hoped it deflected the Duke’s anger from her mother to her, gambling that he wanted to hand her over to her new master unmarked.
    “You insolent child,” Duke Thorold took another step toward her and still Brenna held his gaze. “How dare you taunt me?”
    Brenna could see her mother’s worried face behind him, her head shaking no as she looked on.
    Finally Brenna lowered her head. It would help neither of them if she pushed Thorold into a rage. “I’m sorry my Lord Duke, I thought you might want to confirm that I am free of blemishes or marks.”
    Duke Thorold took one more threatening step and Brenna saw Wynne slide out behind him.
    “I apologize as well my Lord,” Wynne said as she dropped into a low bow. “It was I who delayed Brenna’s parting. I have one more thing to give to her but I needed to fetch it from the workroom.”
    “And what is it you wish to give her?”
    “Just my work knife, my Lord,” and as Brenna watched Wynne held up her sheathed knife to the Duke. “It was my own mother’s gift to me before I came here.”
              “Your knife.” Thorold snatched it out of her hand and drew the blade. “Since I own you, anything you own is mine.”
    “But it was my mother’s. The only thing of hers that I have.” Wynne’s voice was so quiet Brenna could barely hear her, but she saw her mother’s back sag as her head dipped lower.
    “This is a very fine knife, witch,” Thorold said. He ignored Wynne’s bent form as he held the blade up to the torch light. “You should have given it to me long ago. I shall punish you for that, my dear.”
    “No!” Brenna hadn’t meant to speak it out loud, hadn’t meant to give that single word so much force, but as Duke Thorold drew himself to his full height and turned all his attention to her Brenna breathed in, almost in relief. She slipped her bag off her shoulder and let it fall to the dusty stable floor. Then she looked him straight in the eye.
    He would kill her. She knew it by the anger she saw fill his eyes, the cold smirk he wore as he stepped over her mother, who had sunk to the ground, eyes round with fear.
    “No my Lord, please no,” Wynne sobbed and clutched at his leg as he moved past her. Thorold shook his foot free and then kicked out, the toughened leather of his boot thudding against Wynne’s shoulder and spinning her backwards to land hard against the door frame.
    “Leave my mother alone!” Brenna shouted, her fear burned away by her rage.
    “And what will you do about it?” Thorold stopped three steps from her and laughed. “She’s mine, as are you. I could kill you both and no one would care.”
    “You’d kill your own flesh and blood?”
    “My dear wife has been insisting I get rid of you for years. I don’t think she much cares how I do it.” He held up the knife, her mother’s knife, so it flashed in the torch light. “I think this will work nicely, don’t you?”
    Despite her fear, despite the clammy sweat she felt trickle between her breasts, Brenna stayed where she was, head up, eyes on him as he took one step, then another, towards her. Now he was close enough that one long-armed swipe with the knife would open her throat, but still she didn’t move, didn’t drop her gaze from his. If he was going to kill her she wanted him to remember the anger and hatred in her eyes, wanted the way she died, without fear of him, to taunt him always.
    “Ah such a brave child. Such a foolish, brave