Brotherhood

Chapter 11

Sleep did little to dull the ache growing inside Geric as he thought about Amy. She hadn't appeared at the pond for two nights now and he was starting to think that he had scared her away with his kiss. His pulse thundered in his ears every time he thought about it and he longed to hold her in his arms again. But there were too many factors conspiring against them. She would never abandon her country, nor would he expect her to. And besides that, there was the obvious fact that she was mortal and he wasn't anymore. What would happen when she began to age and he didn't?

Entering the tavern on the ground floor of the inn, he merely grunted at Berta's greeting before going upstairs to his room. Closing the door quietly behind him, he fingered the thin leather cord around his neck thoughtfully before taking it out from beneath his shirt. The small golden ring that he had always worn on the little finger of his right hand caught the light, winking coldly in the dying afternoon sun. Turning it over and over in his palm, he studied the familiar insignia—two swords crossed over a shield with the crown inscribed on it. And over it all, a watchful wolf's head, meant as a symbol of protection.

Geric's lips twitched at the irony of it all. There had been a time when he would've been considered fit to marry Amy, but the war had taken that away too. Dropping the signet ring back into its place beneath his shirt, he wondered what Amy would say if she knew the truth about him.

Returning downstairs, he decided he might as well try and drown his sorrows at the bottom of a tankard of ale. He just wondered how much of the stuff it would take before he forgot Amy's face, probably far more than Colmar had available.

When he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he immediately sensed a change in the atmosphere. He glanced at Berta who stood with a tankard in one hand, halfway through filling it with grog for a customer. She shook her head, her eyes darting quickly to something near the door that he couldn't see. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he turned to see the captain of the King's Guard standing in the doorway of the tavern, his hand resting nervously on the hilt of a silver sword.

"Geric?" he asked in a voice that belied the nervousness Geric sensed in his stance. When Geric nodded, the captain continued. "By order of His Majesty, King Merek Auclaire, I hereby place you under arrest."

He should've seen this coming a long time ago, Geric thought wryly. He should have known that Amy was no different than the rest of them. The thought brought little comfort, in fact it made the ache in his chest grow a little larger. He had been so stupid...

"On what grounds?" he demanded, trying to keep the venom out of his voice. "The king can't arrest anyone without cause."

"Trying to usurp the crown from His Majesty and his family," the captain of the guard said, glaring at Geric coldly. "Seize him."

Geric lunged out of the way as two soldiers approached him, daggers drawn. He knew fighting would only make it worse, but he had seen enough to know that none of them would hesitate to run him through with their silver knives, in fact they would probably enjoy it.

"I'll go," he growled, the threat evident in his voice, "if you tell them to leave their daggers in the scabbards."

"And why would I do that?" the captain demanded.

Geric smiled mirthlessly at him and the captain took an unconscious step backward as he spoke, his voice carrying a low and dangerous undercurrent. "Because if they don't, they're going to regret it. I'll come quietly if I have your word that none of them will attack me."

They glared at each other for a few seconds longer before the captain motioned for his men to put their weapons away. Once he was satisfied that none of the guards had a blade, Geric held his hands wearily out to be shackled.