She would never be able to live with herself if this brute took Ryken’s life. There was only one way forward and it chilled her to her core. Somehow she found the courage to look up into the warrior’s eyes. “What is it that you seek for my uncle’s life?” she asked softly, already certain of the answer.
“You’re a pretty thing,” Sedrak said. He caressed her cheek with a rough and weathered hand. “You would pay any price for your uncle’s freedom?” he asked. He kept her looking up at him.
“I… I would do so, yes,” she said quietly.
“You would give your life for his?”
She gasped. Her mouth fell open. Surely he couldn’t mean…
He leaned forward so his face was just two hands from hers. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t mean to kill you, Leola Grace. I am not a barbarian, as your uncle seems to think.”
She exhaled and her knees went weak. But if he did not mean to kill her, there remained little else he intended to do with her, other than the unthinkable. As the thought struck her, what color remained left her cheeks, leaving her face pale as a ghost. The bottom fell out of her stomach. What was being asked of her was… unthinkable. She knew that this barbarian was not asking for her hand in marriage, after all.
She would be an unmarried woman, sinful and unsuitable for any proper life. In effect, it was her life for her uncle’s, for she would never lead the same life again.
In the same instant she thought of the alternative, and knew there wasn’t really any choice to make.
Sedrak grew impatient with her silence. “I mean,” he huffed, “do you give yourself to me freely? In exchange I shall let your uncle live.”
Her eyes fell to the ground. The decision had already been made, her fate was sealed. Now all that was required of her was to say the words that would end her life as she knew it. She struggled to breathe, let alone to form her assent.
She steeled herself and parted her lips. “Yes,” she whispered. The single word left her mouth and it felt as if it carried with it her soul. She was suddenly empty, adrift, like a boat torn loose from its anchor in a storm.
Sedrak took a step back, appraising her as if he did not believe her assent. A cruel-looking smile was on his lips. He wore much the same expression as though she had challenged him to a bare-fisted fight.
“Stand, then, Leola Grace,” he commanded, almost laughing. “Let us see how serious you are about this.”
With fear swelling in her belly again, Leola dragged herself to her feet and did her best to stand straight and proud in front of him.
“Strip,” he ordered.
Her mouth fell open. “What?” she whispered.
“Strip that… garment… from yourself.”
Her head began to shake. He could not mean that she strip, there in front of so many men? She took a step back. Her mind was screaming run, but her body would not obey. Sedrak grabbed the hilt of his sword and started pulling it from its scabbard, chuckling.
“I thought not,” he said cruelly. He tilted his chin and yelled to his men without turning around, in the rough Northern dialect that Leola could not understand. But when one of the guards shoved Ryken, gesturing for him to arise while hollering guttural sounds at him, she understood the intent.
Her life for his, and she had not been serious enough.
Leola squeezed her eyes closed, acting on instinct, as though she no longer had a will or a mind of her own. She shrugged off the large fur. It fell to the ground at her feet, leaving her standing in only her nightshirt.
The scuffle near her uncle stopped after a sharp bark from Sedrak. A wave of low chuckling passed through the men. Even with her eyes closed, Leona could feel the heat of all their gazes. Not just the army of bandits standing behind Sedrak but Ryken’s men and the archers that had gathered on the walls. She had never felt so exposed or so utterly ashamed.
She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. It was of no consequence now. She must do what she had to do.
Sedrak was staring at her, a new expression on his face. Surprise mingled with his amusement. “Off with that,” he grunted, pointing his sword at the shirt.
A wave of humiliation swept through Leona as she felt her nipples harden, though she could not say whether it was the command or the cold. Sedrak’s gaze burned through her, and an unfamiliar heat coiled and uncoiled in her abdomen.
From somewhere in the darkness someone shouted, “Seems she likes it!” and a wave of laughter rolled through the men.
“Silence!” Sedrak roared, holding up a hand.
The quiet that followed was immediate and deafening. Leona shivered. Sedrak’s power over such a legion of men was terrifying, and yet inside her, the snaking heat flared.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to raise her arms and pull the last vestige of her dignity over her head.
Sedrak eyed her for what felt like an eternity. When he took a step forward she stumbled back. He caught her by the wrist and leaned in so his nose was three finger lengths from hers. “Stand,” he growled.
She stood stock still.
It happened in an instant. His hand curled into a fist with a clump of shirt inside it. He yanked. The fabric tore.
She felt cold air against her skin. Skin that never saw the light of day unless she was with Datharia or by herself. She glanced down to confirm what she felt. Her breasts were bare. On full display for the leering stares of Sedrak’s men. Her womanhood, too, could be seen by all of them.
She wished the earth would open and swallow her whole.
Stepping around her, Sedrak pulled what
