King's Warrior (Renegade Lords Book 1) by Kris Kennedy

Author:Kris Kennedy [Kennedy, Kris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kris Kennedy
Published: 2017-02-27T18:30:00+00:00

THE KING HANDED HIM the dagger. “Take it, Irish, take it and run hard.”

Tadhg took it, then grabbed the king’s hand. “Ride with me.”

Haggard from a fever that would not leave, Richard shook his shaggy head. “I haven’t the strength. And it will not be so bad, eh?” He grinned weakly. “We’ve been on the road a long time, Irish. I could use a featherbed for a change. Rest assured, I will make it home, at some great cost to England, but I will make it. But if anyone finds this,” he gestured at the dagger, “there will be no England for me to go to.” He grasped Tadhg’s wrist. “I shall reward you greatly.” The king dropped a heavy pouch of money into his hand. “Land, titles. You shall be a great lord.”

Tadhg smiled faintly as he took it and shoved it under his cloak. “Once I was known as tighearna ba agus láib.”

“What is that?” the king asked, stripping another pouch of money free.

“Lord of Cows and Mud. ’Twas a jest, for at the time, I longed for greatness.”

The king slapped the second pouch of money into his hand. “Christ’s blood, Irish, I can make you lord of more than that. You shall sit among the great and mighty for your loyalty and sacrifice here.”

“I do not want greatness anymore, sire. I just want to go home.”

“Consider it done.” He unclasped the cloak around his shoulders and tossed it to Tadhg; it was heavier than his own, a finer weave, thicker, warmer. “Take the dagger to William the Marshal. He is at his townhouse in the city; he is lodging there permanently during my absence, to oversee the administration. And my wily brother,” the king added, unlacing a final pouch and handing it over. “It is up to you, Tadhg, all of it. Get it to the Marshal, and you will have done me well. You shall have the undying gratitude of a king.”

“Unless you die,” Tadhg pointed out as he buckled the belt around his hips.

Richard laughed, as he so often did with Tadhg. It was half the reason he kept him so close. The other half was Tadhg’s deadly skill with the blade. “Unless that, Irish. But I will not die. I am worth too much alive. And there will be featherbeds.” Richard clapped him on the shoulder one last time.

Tadhg turned for the alley door just as boots clattered into the kitchen entryway behind them. They spun.

Sherwood stood in the opening behind them. And behind him stood a phalanx of foreign soldiers. The baron looked at Richard, then at Tadhg. His gaze dropped to the dagger.

“Run,” murmured the king.

Sherwood took a quick step forward. “I advise against it, Irish. Whatever the king has offered you, I shall pay you more.”

Tadhg broke and ran. He forwent the stables and moved instead through alleyways, doubling back ceaselessly, occasionally passing through an open shop, front door to back, then pausing to feign attentive Christmas shopping outside the counter

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