“Because I do have children, and I’m not Edward, bootlicking to be your equal. You have no plans of ever allowing me to see my children again, for you wouldn’t offer to spend years teaching me, only to let me go,” Bennett said, her eyes locked on Max’s. “And since you said you’re a man of your word, and you would never—ever—bring harm to my village, that tells me my children are safe, and that’s enough for me. I don’t need to learn. I don’t need to be taught how to read or write, especially by a man like you. You allow children to be killed, and those who escaped, those who were told to hide, come out of their hiding places only to find their parents massacred even though it doesn’t have to be that way. You said it yourself. There is another way.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Neither is being forced into silence, but if it means saving the lives of your children, if it means saving any life, it becomes as easy as breathing because it’s the right thing to do. It’s the decent thing to do.”

Max rested back and tapped his finger against his lips. As he mulled over the woman’s words, a muted chortle escaped, for he now knew his perception of Bennett Archer needed work. True, she had a natural intelligence, and true, she had courage. She’d stood tall the night she was taken, and now, sitting in her chair, her backbone was as straight as a sword, and while others could have viewed the woman’s comments as disrespectful and bold, Max did not. Bennett Archer wasn’t being arrogant. She was just proving to Max what he’d known since she had stared him down in her village. Bennett Archer was a force to be reckoned with, and Max’s eyes shimmered with glee.

Max picked up the bronze handbell on his desk and rang it once, the loud clang causing both him and Bennett to cringe. A few moments later, the door opened, and a man wearing a brown slashed doublet and matching hose came inside. “You rang, m’lord?”

“Yes, call everyone into the great hall.”

“Um…most are…most have already retired to their—”

“Victor, please don’t make me repeat myself. Call them now.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“While we’re waiting, would you like a drink?” Max said, getting up to refill his goblet. Max looked over his shoulder. “It’s brandy. Have you ever had it?”

“No. I don’t know what that is.”

Max turned back and poured a splash of the potent beverage into a pewter cup. “It’s liquor made from grapes. It’s aged in oak barrels, so it has a hint of woodiness to it,” Max said, handing Bennett her drink. “It’s quite delicious.”