The Warrior's Game Read Online Free

name, and an orphan, meaning no family to protest their kinswoman’s degraded marriage. Michel cared not that some other man had broken the lady’s maidenhead before him.
    It was only Lady de la Beres that Michel would have to wife.
    Now Michel met John's gaze and chose his words with care. “I frequent the stews as often as any man, however the value a man places on a whore’s tricks isn’t the worth he awards his wife. You asked for my assessment of the lady’s wifely value. As regards that all I can say is no knight’s daughter can be worth the sum you named, sire. In all truth I doubt I’d pay the forty-five pounds you originally asked, for I believe her value cannot be as high as that.” It couldn’t hurt to plant the idea in Sir Enguerran's mind that he'd agreed to an inflated sum; nor would it hurt for the lady to believe Michel had no interest in her.
    “Do you hear, Majesty?” d’Oilly cried. “Even your own man says she isn’t worth what you ask for her.”
    Michel's teeth gritted. He suppressed his urge to draw his sword to slay yon idiotic worm. Everyone, even Michel whose acquaintance with John had been of but a few years, knew better than to rub the king’s nose into a defeat.
    Just as Michel expected, John’s mouth quirked downward into a stubborn line. Damn his Plantagenet blood. Once challenged, John simply couldn’t admit to being bested, even if persevering meant destroying himself.
    “Nay, We cannot agree with either of you,” John said. “Any man can see that Lady de la Beres is a woman of spirit and intelligence. To our mind that is worth a great deal. If you want her Sir Enguerran, you’ll pay me every pence of that two hundred and fifty pounds.” John’s voice was cold but Michel recognized the childish sulk in that icy tone.
    Sir Enguerran’s face flushed. “But sire, you yourself named your mercenary as objective. You must heed him when he renders his opinion,” he cried, proving himself an even greater idiot as he drove his insult deeper beneath John’s skin.
    A small sound escaped Lady de la Beres. Her head was still bowed but her shoulders were set in a harsh line and her profile could have been chiseled from granite as she heard herself named worthless again and again.
    John’s expression flattened. His eyes narrowed. “Sir Enguerran, do you dare to imagine yourself our councilor?”
    D’Oilly’s head dropped so fast and hung so far forward that Michel wondered that the man’s beard didn’t catch in his mail. “Begging your pardon, sire,” the toady muttered, belated panic filling those quiet words.
    “As you should,” John announced to the room as if he stood among a crowd instead of only five other souls, if Michel included John’s body servant hovering in the corner in the count. “Now leave us not to return until you have notes guaranteeing us the full amount. Aye, and until that day you are also relieved of your position as administrator of Lady de la Beres’ estate.”
    That brought Sir Enguerran’s head snapping back up, his eyes wide. “Majesty, what reason have you to do so? Is there someone who says I’ve misused the lady’s properties? If so, let me know that man’s name so I can call him out and restore my honor.”
    Nothing of his previous subdued amusement remained in the king’s face. “No man speaks against you, nor do We accuse. We simply don't wish you to be tempted to use the lady’s properties to raise the amount We require for her. What you give us must come from your own resources. Now leave us.” A brusque flick of the royal hand dismissed Sir Enguerran.
    Reclaiming his slump, Sir Enguerran backed his way to the chamber’s door, bowing with each step. Once the door closed behind the man John turned to Lady de la Beres.
    “You may leave us as well,” he said, dismissing the gentlewoman as bluntly as he had his knight.
    The widow raised her head to look upon her king. Although her shoulders were yet tense there was no sign