Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge Read Online Free

would be betraying everything I hold dear and everything I stand for.”
    The Maid’s expression of hope wavered and she forced a smile as she realized that he was denying her request. She was disappointed, that was true, but she also understood that the man’s true loyalty was not to her but to his country. She, of all people, understood loyalty to one’s country. She was an enemy of his people and he was a soldier. He had done all he could for her. He could do no more.
    “I understand,” she said. “You must do what you feel is right, of course. But if you do not take me to England, then... then I hope you will make sure my remains are disposed of.”
    His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
    She took her hand off his arm, turning away from him and heading back towards the spindly, uncomfortable bed. “I do not wish to become the fodder for those who wish to own a piece of my body,” she said. “I do not wish for my finger bone to end up in someone’s house as an object of veneration, or worse, used for monetary gain. I do not wish to be sold or bartered. Will you make sure there is nothing left of me, then? If you choose not to take me to Hampshire, then cast me into the river. Make sure there is nothing left.”
    De Russe’s intense gaze was upon her. “As you wish,” he said. “I will make it so.”
    The Maid lowered herself back onto the uncomfortable bed, the last bed she would know upon this earth. Her memories of earth would not be particularly pleasant and she found she was somewhat eager to be done with it all. After shifting on the bed to find a comfortable position, her dark-circled gaze found de Russe once more.
    “Thank you, my friend,” she said softly. “For all you have done for me and for the comfort and concern you have provided, you have been an excellent big brother. I am grateful.”
    De Russe was experiencing a great, hollow feeling in his chest, as if a light had gone out. Something had been taken away from him that he wasn’t sure he would ever regain. He didn’t even know what it was. All he knew was that he was filled with sorrow and disillusionment. He was a knight, straight and true, and the things he believed in, the things he held dear, had been twisted and chewed up and spit out by Bedford and a host of crafty English clerics. This wasn’t the England he wanted to serve. He wondered when, and how, things became so distorted.
    De Russe spent the rest of the night in the Maid’s cell, sitting against the cold stone wall, speaking with her in soft tones, watching over her while she slept fitfully a few hours before dawn. The uneasy sleep of the condemned. It made him sick to watch.
    When the sky began to turn golden and the wall above him began to turn colors as the sunlight streamed in, he rose from his position against the wall and made his way down to the guards on the lower level, where three out of the four were sleeping. He sent the awake guard for the Maid’s last meal but was prevented from presenting it to her alone when a few of the clerics who had presided over her trial arrived in the tower, coming to escort the woman to her doom.
    The trial bailiff, Jean Massieu, also joined the congregation of men. Much like de Russe, he was somewhat sympathetic to the Maid, as he had presided over the entire trial and had seen what had been done to force this woman into the position she was in. It had been a travesty in many ways. As the sun rose, all of these men, and several guards, crowded into the Maid’s cell as de Russe personally placed her tray of bread, wine, and some cheese in front of her to eat.
    The Maid smiled thankfully at de Russe but would not eat anything. As the charges were recited and the sentence against her was read once more so she understood exactly why she was facing such an end, de Russe stood silently by. It was de Russe and Massieu who escorted the young woman from her cell and down to the waiting wagon, the one that would take her to the square