Chapter 25
Thud.
Black cloak. Black garments. Black hair…
To Greg, death was pure ink—absolute darkness. Merciless and cold, it strode across the ground and stopped before Tom.
“S-spare me! Please, spare—ugh!”
Tom’s mouth wrenched open. It was not by his will. An unseen force seemed ready to shatter his jaw. Blood streaming from his ruined eyes trickled into his mouth.
“P-please… m-mercy…”
Shhk.
A blade flashed with cruel brilliance. Greg could not even breathe.
“A tongue better gone than left.”
Tom understood then. Something irreversible had been set in motion—because of his insolent tongue.
“No!”
His scream, soaked in blood, sounded like the dying cry of a beast.
Slash!
A wet, tearing sound.
The nanny’s body trembled violently against Godiva’s face. What is happening? Godiva tried to turn her head, but the nanny tightened her grip, pressing her close so she could neither see nor properly hear.
“Don’t look, Miss. Please, don’t look.”
Blood sprayed. Around Tom’s kneeling body, crimson bloomed thick and sticky across the stones.
“Ghk—!”
Like a maimed dog, like a crushed worm—Tom writhed pitifully. Greg could only gasp, half-suffocated by terror. He knew it was his turn next. There was nowhere to flee.
“What your eyes have taken in…”
Silver eyes reflected Greg Barber’s ashen, horror-stricken face.
“…must be erased.”
Those silver eyes—he had seen them once in the great hall of Coventry Castle. But never like this. Never so merciless.
Greg closed his eyes.
Shing!
Thud!
A final, choked cry.
When it ended, no one remained at the King’s Head window.
A heavy object struck the cobblestones below.
Tom moaned, blood bubbling from his mouth. Where his tongue had been, fresh blood pulsed and spilled.
“Death would have been kinder.”
Greg Barber was already dead. A dagger stood buried deep in his forehead, its blade glinting cold blue.
“Miss…”
The smell of blood rose thick and suffocating. The nanny could not block it. At some point, Godiva lost consciousness in her arms. Her golden hair spilled long across the horse’s back.
Flap— A black cloak unfurled and settled over her, covering her completely.
* * *
“My lord.”
It was Brandel.
“Report.”
Leofric did not turn. His hair was still damp.
“Greg Barber’s body has been buried. Tom Tailor has been confined to the monastery.”
Receiving no reply, Brandel continued.
“I have also met with the guildmaster. They have sworn to silence.”
Leofric’s sharp gaze remained fixed on the window. In the distance, Coventry’s market lay faint beneath the sky.
“And… all seemed concerned for Madam.”
“The knights?”
“At rest, my lord.”
Though he answered efficiently, Brandel himself understood little. A blind, tongueless tailor; a barber with the lord’s dagger in his skull; townsfolk swearing unwavering silence; Lady Godiva returned unconscious… Something had occurred at noon, yet everything lay shrouded in fog.
But it was not a matter to question lightly.
“Well done.”
“My lord, I shall take my leave.”
Leofric gave a short nod. Brandel withdrew at once.
* * *
“Haa… haa…”
Though she could not recall the details of the nightmare, though it could not possibly be real, Godiva suffered terribly.
A nauseating scent of blood clawed at her senses. Someone’s scream scraped against her ears.
She reached blindly into the air. Something seemed to brush her fingers—soft, sticky, foul.
She flailed weakly to push it away. It was terribly red.
Tap.
“Ah!”
The instant her hand grasped something solid, Godiva’s eyes flew open.
“Miss!”
It was clearly the nanny’s voice.
Godiva blinked, vision blurred. Soft curtains stirred. Warm lamplight glowed. A familiar scent lingered in the air.
This was not the market of Coventry.
This was her chamber.
“You’re awake now.”
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