Reborn As The Beggar Lord

007 The Damned Girl

"The girl is not going anywhere," Kingsley said.

The lean Appleby man nudged his partner. "Show his lordship the papers, Garth."

Garth was the big one, red-bearded and wide as a door. He pulled a folded paper from his coat and held it high.

"The sale is legal, my lord. Your own headman signed it."

"He signed it as a thief," Kingsley said. "People aren't sold like objects on my land."

He pulled the barony's purse from his belt and shook it once. "I'm canceling the sale. But I will be fair with you. Appleby will get every coin back."

The two men put their heads together and whispered, then turned back grinning.

"Hold on now," Garth said slowly. "Now I remember. You're the beggar lord with F-grade talent. The capital laughed you out of its own gates."

He dug a gold coin from his pocket and flipped it at the baron with a chuckle. "I see your game. You want a higher price for the girl. Baron Grubb is generous towards the needy."

The coin struck Kingsley's chest and clattered on the stone.

"You have never met me, so I will forgive that once," he said without glancing down. "Pick up your coin. Collect Grubb's silver on your way out, and then get off my land. I came here to free the girl."

Garth's smile shrank, and he jerked his chin toward the cell. "Tell him, old man. His lordship must know what he is bargaining for."

The jailer wrung his ring of keys. "My lord, Ginny Finch is one of the damned."

"Do you see the iron manacles on her? They contain magic from the Dawn Temple and put her curse to sleep. If we take them off, there's no telling what horrors she will unleash on us."

"The headman did us all a kindness. A damned girl under our roofs is a punishment from the heavens. Let her be Appleby's problem. If Mara were alive, she would agree."

The small hooded figure flinched at the well-keeper's name, and her chains clinked once, soft.

Kingsley had heard enough. He crossed the floor without answering, pried the key ring out of the jailer's fingers, and walked into the open cell.

He crouched and pulled the sack off the prisoner's head.

The girl underneath was Ginny Finch.

Even under the bruises and the grime, she was lovely, with a small pale face and raven black hair grown wild. She was so thin that her wrists looked like a child's inside the manacles, and her lips were cracked from thirst.

Ginny watched him with hollow, sunken eyes. A year in the dark had taught her that fighting back changed nothing, and that lords never helped a commoner, least of all one of the damned.

"Do not touch her, my lord," the jailer whispered from the doorway.

Then Kingsley raised the key, and her stillness cracked. Her eyes darted from the manacles to his face and back. She could not work out what he wanted, and that frightened her.

"You are Mara's granddaughter, aren't you?" Kingsley said warmly. "Hold still. I'll get you out of here."

"My lord, please stop!" the jailer begged from the steps. "She'll bury us all in this hole!"

The manacles and chains fell open one after another and rang on the stone.

Ginny stared at her bare wrists and said nothing. She tried to stand, and her legs gave out under her.

She toppled sideways onto the stone and lay there, taking small, shallow breaths.

Garth's laugh boomed off the walls. "Look at her! All those years of priests wetting themselves over this runt!"

He grinned at his partner. "The Temple got it wrong, Fisk. There's no magic in this one at all. Just a starved little girl."

Fisk laughed with him, higher and meaner. "All the better for us. And she's a pretty thing under that dirt. Our baron will find plenty of uses for a slave with no fight in her."

Rage burned up Kingsley's throat. He crossed the cell in two steps and slapped Fisk across the face. The crack of it bounced off the walls.

Fisk's head snapped sideways. He touched his bleeding mouth, looked at the blood on his fingers, and his face went murderous.

"You put your hand on me. You penniless, gutter-born trash!"

Both men pulled their daggers.

"Do you know the sweetest part, beggar lord?" Garth snarled. "The capital threw you out with the rubbish. We can open your throat, ride home, and sleep like babies. Nobody will ask one question."

They rushed him together. Kingsley got one arm up, and Garth swatted it aside and drove him into the wall hard enough to knock the air out of him.

The jailer lunged for Garth's elbow, and Fisk kicked him in the belly without even looking. The old man folded onto the floor, wheezing.

Then two dagger points pressed into Kingsley's throat.

So the second life ends the same way, he thought. Killed by greedy men over a reject.

Garth leaned in close enough that Kingsley could smell the onions and ale on him. "You're going to die for that pathetic girl. And here's the joke of it. You couldn't even save her. You'll bleed out for nothing!"

Kingsley ground his teeth.

"That doesn't matter. Her grandmother died today. Mara's last words were that she wasn't scared of her granddaughter, and never ashamed of her. Not for one day of her life."

Blood ran warm down his neck. "That's reason enough for the girl to walk free. As the Baron of Thornmere, I am prepared to die for her freedom!"

On the cell floor, Ginny's fingers curled.

"Then die knowing all of your heroism was a waste," Garth said, and raised his dagger for the killing stroke.

The air went ice cold. The torch flames bent sideways, and every hair on Kingsley's arms stood up.

Both daggers ripped out of the men's fists so hard that their fingers were snipped off in a spray of blood. The blades shot back and sank deep into the far wall.

Garth and Fisk howled and folded over their ruined hands.

Kingsley flattened himself against the wall, his eyes wide in shock.

Ginny was on her feet.

She stood with one thin arm extended. Her black hair floated up around her face, and her eyes glowed pale white.

Garth and Fisk recovered and rushed at her. Her fingers curled again.

The iron bars of the cell door tore out of their sockets, bent in the air, and slammed into the two men's faces.

"You piece of trash!" Fisk shrieked and spat a tooth onto the floor.

Then the whole mine quaked. The floor bucked, dust poured from the ceiling, and a grinding roar ran through the rock.

Garth was the first to break. He grabbed Fisk by the collar. "The girl's a monster! Let's get out of here before she buries us alive!"

The terrified Appleby men staggered up the steps. They tripped over each other, and then they were gone.