Yea, you should be scared, Ice Princess. He forced a deep breath, the sound harsh over the stillness of the hall. It took all his might not to strike her. She looked over his shoulder in confusion and Brant heard Lord Lester’s high-pitched cackle behind him. The sound inspired his anger to go from close to exploding to a full-blown rage. He forgot Edwyn’s tale.
He fought the numbing anger that bubbled inside him, stemming from his chest, and curling out over his body like a wicked poison. Brant knew that if he was to take Della into private chambers to punish her, he would more than likely end up beating her for her public insults. It was bad enough she yelled, but to call him a girl in front of his men. It was a most unforgivable insult to his manhood—for who to better judge his prowess as a man than his wife?
Della backed away from her husband, her mouth working in horror as she shook her head. No sound escaped her lips as she struggled for words.
“This time you have gone too far, lady wife.” The dark sound of Brant’s words fell ominously over them. A few of the soldiers whispered fervently and a servant dropped a pitcher of mead. The crash on stone created a foreboding resonance and hushed the men to silence.
Grabbing a fistful of her dress, Della looked to the hall for help. None of the men moved, not even those who had been loyal to her in the time of her father. She knew she’d made a grave mistake. She came up hard against the dining table, knocking over a pitcher of ale. The dark liquid flowed over her hand onto her gown. Ignoring the mess, she held out her clean hand to stop her husband’s advance. “M’lord, I—”
“I would put my wife in the stocks for a sennight for such a thing. A man who cannot control his wife—” Lester said.
“A man should not have to put up with your continuous insults,” Brant interrupted. She leaned farther back over the table trying to escape him. His expression hardened as he looked at her. “Leave my table.” Grabbing her extended arm by the wrist before she could pull it back, he jerked her away him, urging her down the stone steps of the raised platform toward the cold stone floor.
Della’s body pitched forward and her feet caught awkwardly as she descended. He didn’t throw her so hard as to do her great harm, but her foot caught on a stone and she tripped. Her limbs flailed as she stumbled. Reaching out, she grasped at the air for support, but could not stop her fall.
The straw rushes inefficiently padded her landing and her face bumped against the stone. Pain radiated throughout her body. For a long moment of breathless silence, she laid there until feeling came back to her limbs. Her palms throbbed angrily as she pushed to kneeling. When finally she turned to look at him, Brant stood high above her on the platform. Shock at her fall shone in his eyes. For the briefest of moments, he looked as if he might come to her aid.
“Well played, m’lord!” Lester decreed, stopping Brant’s hand mid-action. “You cannot let her insolence go unchecked or else the whole country would think you weak and lacking in your manhood. I daresay the king would then regret giving you this title and land.”
Brant blinked heavily, drawing his gaze away from her to look over the gathered crowd. His hands fisted in a tight ball, even as a blank mask covered his expression as if to challenge any to dispute his honor. None so dared.
Giving her a blistering glare, Lester said to Della, “By my authority of the king, you will eat there on the floor, lady, like a mongrel dog. Only feeding on the scraps your husband throws you until he decides how best to punish you.”
Brant took his seat at the head table amongst his peers, keeping his eyes on those around him. Very quietly, he said, “So be it.”
Never in her adult life had she been treated so callously. She touched her throbbing cheek where her face hit the stone. When she pulled her hand back, her fingertips were lightly dotted with blood. With a deep breath, she moved to stand, hoping to plead her case.
Brant saw her. The emotion hadn’t died from his eyes.
“Do you dare to disobey the king’s authority so quickly?” Lester challenged.
Della quickly sat back down and fought for composure. Her limbs shook and her insides crumbled with the sense of defeat. She had never seen him this angry before, not even when she was denying him his husband rights. Well aware of the soldiers watching her every move, she brushed the loose straw off her hair and gown in an attempt to save a bit of her dignity. Drawing her knees to her chest, she hugged them with her arms.
Brant saw what had happened to Della’s face and despite his frustration, he was sorry for it. She lightly fingered the wound and winced in pain. Then, catching his eyes on her, she jerked her hand away and stared defiantly forward. Her words echoed in his mind and he wished she would just recant so he could forgive her.