A scream tore from my lips as I galloped faster toward the forest, heading straight for the group of villagers trekking the road. They cried out for him to slow but he pretended not to hear.

He ran them down. He heard screams and other various cries of anguish from behind him as he rode into the woods.

Stopping at a small manor, I flung myself from my steed and ran inside, not even bothering to knock. I stormed into the kitchen to find him sitting with his wife and two children at the small table used for casual meals.

“That whore was utterly insufficient,” I growled at him. He stood up suddenly and stared hard at me.

“That was no whore, Lord Cruel. That was a local peasant girl my men picked off the road. You said not to get a whore, but a young girl. Were my men mistaken?” His voice was coolly polite, but obviously disdainful.

I glared at him and said nothing for a moment. “In compensation for your mistake, I’m taking your son upstairs for an hour or so.”