Said No to the Prince and Yes to the King novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69 A Grandmother’s Grudge

“Your father was my only son. How could you bear to send him to his death?”

Finished

Carol’s voice erupted into a raw, furious roar, her eyes blazing as she glared at Zoe. “When the great flood swept through the valley, he didn’t have to go out there. It was you–you begged him to save that friend of yours. And what happened? The currents took him! My boy… the son I nursed and raised… was lost because of his own daughter–his beloved daughter!”

Zoe’s lips parted, but no sound emerged.

Carol’s eyes were rimmed with red, her chest heaving. “I held him in my arms from the day he was born. He was my comfort in my old age, my reason to go on living–and you destroyed him, you wretched girl! My own granddaughter? You were the death of your father! Do you hear me?

“The river was a monster that day–no one in their right mind would venture into it. Yet you pushed him to go. What a devoted daughter you turned out to be! And in the end? That precious friend of yours walked away unharmed. She returned to her family, safe and celebrating. But your father? He drowned in those muddy waters. How have you dared stand by my side all these years? If you weren’t of my own blood, I would have cast you into the river long ago. Selling you off is a mercy–you ought to be grateful!”

Tears streamed freely down Carol’s worn face as her voice climbed higher.

“Our family was once respected. My son died a hero’s death, saving another! And did that family ever come to thank us? No–they were so shamed by what happened that they packed and fled under moonrise! Not a word of gratitude, not a single coin in compensation! That’s the reward for a life given! “So you see, girls are hollow–hearted. You think only of yourselves. Cold and selfish. Getting ten silver coins for you is more than you deserve. Remember that, dear granddaughter–you owe this kindness.”

Zoe was sobbing now, breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“I never knew you held this poison in your heart. I never forced Father into the water–I only cried out from the bank, worried for my friend. He chose to go in himself. In my eyes, he was always the bravest of men. Do you think I haven’t carried this pain? I never imagined you blamed me…”

“Enough of this prattling! Shut your mouth, old woman! Get out of my sight!”

The bandit chieftain’s roar cut through the air. Carol flinched and scurried into the kitchen like a frightened hare.

The man with the scar across his cheek spat on the ground. “Those two should be weak as lambs now. Go bind them all and drag them here.”

“Leave the man to me,” the chieftain growled. “He slaughtered too many of my brothers. I’ll have him drawn and quartered before the whole village.”

With that, three or four rough–looking bandits started toward Theodore.

“The woman’s no real threat. It’s the man who’s dangerous.”

“Aye. Take the man first.”

11:33 am

Chapter 69 A Grandmother’s Grudge

Finished

They closed in on Theodore’s side.

But before their hands could seize him, two wooden bowls flew through the air, striking two of them square in the forehead. The men crumpled soundlessly.

The remaining two lifted their blades–but a shadow darted past, and both bandits were slammed hard into the earth, their weapons clattering away.

In the space of a breath, the small group that had moved toward Theodore lay motionless, their throats slit.

Theodore stood in the center of the yard, the tip of his longsword dripping crimson onto the trodden soil.

“My brother! You killed my brother!” screamed the scar–faced bandit, his reaction the quickest. He seized his broad cleaver and charged, swinging it in a deadly arc toward Theodore.

At once, every bandit still standing in the yard rushed forward–more than a dozen closing in from all sides, encircling him completely.

Margaret’s heart leapt to her throat. She was about to move when she saw the scar–faced man flung backward as if kicked by a horse.

His body struck the trunk of an old oak with a sickening thud. By the time he slid to the ground, he was already coughing up dark blood.

One by one, the remaining bandits were swiftly disarmed and disabled, falling like cut stalks of wheat. Seeing the tide turn, the scar–faced man scrambled desperately toward Margaret.

“Damn it all! If I can’t take the man, I’ll take the woman!”

If he could seize her, he might still barter his way out of this.

In a flash he was upon her, his grimy hands clawing for her throat.

But faster still, a slender silver needle buried itself in his wrist. He shrieked, his grip going slack.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify