Alfie’s hands curled into fists.

Bronagh leapt from her chair.

When she did, Alfie’s attention instantly shifted to her.

“Bronagh,” he warned.

“No,” she snapped, looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes wild with anger.

And gods, that look in her eyes…

If he had legs…

“What he said was not all right,” she finished.

Fuck.

“Honey, no,” he said gently.

Her eyes warmed considerably at hearing his endearment, something he had never given her, before she seemed to struggle and do it mightily.

But thankfully quietly.

She then declared, “King True will hear of this. And we,” she pointed a finger rudely, but adorably, at Alfie, “are not done.”

With that, she flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her.

“You should not accept that behavior from a nurse,” Wilmer advised.

It would be a snowy day in Firenze before Alfie took Wilmer’s advice.

“There was a massacre in the Lesser Thicket Forest,” he announced. “Thirty-two women had their throats slit after they were violated and stabbed. The bodies of two men were found with them. This in an area that beseeched the crown repeatedly, as women with some regularity for some years had gone missing.”

Wilmer blanched.

Seeing it, Alfie seethed.

This bloody imbecile.

“You know of this?” he pushed.

“Carrington told me he dispatched investigators. They were found to be runaways.”

“I’m certain it is now unsurprising to you, but Carrington lied.”

“By the gods,” Wilmer whispered.

Indeed.

For if Carrington lied about this, it could have to do with his caring naught about the citizens of Wodell.

It could also have to do with The Rising.

“Do you remember aught else about it?” Alfie asked.

“I really…I just really…” Wilmer’s shoulders sagged as he muttered, “I did not pay much attention.”

“Thirty-two women are dead, and it is an assumption, but whatever number of girls went missing before them, they might be in the same state, for they have never been found. Does this not penetrate with you?”

The man’s shoulders straightened as he admonished, “You are still speaking to a king.”

“It is a title True left you with because his mother would wish it. But it has no meaning. And I would assume, by your reply, that the deaths of your citizens by such appalling means actually doesn’t penetrate. Which, in turn, indicates you have no meaning.”

Angry red rushed up Wilmer’s neck to his face.

“We are done,” Alfie muttered. “I have things to do.”

“I would go to Bishop Cross,” Wilmer suddenly declared.

Alfie stared at him.

“Gallienus told me I had an open invitation to holiday there,” he continued. “It is warm at the Cross. And far from here. I will take my manservant and enough staff to manage the castle situated there and I will stay for the foreseeable future. This…all these…” he threw out a weak hand, “goings-on. They weary me.”