Rulers of Westover (Book 1 in the RoW Series)

Chapter Twenty-Three

18:5:13 Light

"Tell me Quentin, what happened to your hand?" Tandy stopped pouring Lord Jarret Vaughan another glass of wine when she heard Lord Auber pop the question. Her eyes locked with Blake's for a split second before he turned his attention to Quentin who was looking at the nineteen year old with just as much intensity as her. Quentin's eyes flicked from Tandy to Blake twice before Blake answered for him. "Had a bit of bad luck with a Ravenot soldier didn't you Quentin?" he said with a smirk. "Though you should have known better than to try and block a thrust from a sword with your hand." Quentin's face flushed red as the other lords in the tent burst out laughing. Tandy couldn't resist a smile as she finally continued to pour the wine again. 

When the laughing died down Quentin was staring down at his food. "It wasn't what I intended to happen," he murmured after a moment. Blake finally stopped looking at Quentin like a shark and started on his food. Lord Auber chuckled. "I guessed. Right through the hand was it?" Quentin just nodded. Lord Auber took a sip of his wine. "Who came to your rescue then?" he asked with a chuckle. "Don't think you'd have been too good with fighting after such an injury?" Quentin's eyes hovered on Blake and Lord Auber picked right up on it. He laughed again. "How fortunate for you that Blake was there then, eh?" Tandy was beside Quentin now, pouring some more spiced wine into his glass and she saw him clench his fists beneath the table. Quentin just smiled weakly. For some reason Tandy didn't think Quentin enjoyed being around other lords much.  

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Irving didn't know whether or not to feel sorry for Quentin. When Blake had arrived he'd spoken to Irving and at some point during their conversation he'd told the seventeen year old about how Quentin had come to be the head of his House. According to Blake, Quentin had taken his father by surprise by the cliffs of Bayline, held him down with his amazing strength, and cut out his tongue with the bluntest knife in Fort Bayline's kitchen. Then he'd poured oil on parts of his father while Alston howled in pain and blood seeped between his fingers from his mouth. Quentin then hit his father over the head with a rock and started a fire using flint on some dried grass. It hadn't taken long for Alston to wake from the hit to the head as the flames burnt away his flesh. Blake had ended the gruesome tale by saying that Quentin had then offered hungry urchins from Fort Bayline's streets to cut away as many slices from Lord Alston's stomach as they wanted. Irving had felt sick and for a second he'd returned to his old clumsy self and didn't know what to say.

So he stared at Quentin now, sitting across from him in Lord Auber's tent, and he decided he didn't feel sorry for the sixteen year old. His father and his brother and Lord Auber and Blake and the two or three other lords in the tent could laugh at him as they pleased. Even the girl serving them wine and food smiled every time Quentin was shamed. Irving noticed her and Blake continually exchanging looks of amusement.  

"Who fixed you up after?" Cleavon asked. It was pretty obvious that the other lords weren't going to let this go and Quentin would be the laughing stock for the night. Quentin pushed a golden strand of hair out of his eyes slowly. "One of my men." 

Cleavon snorted. "So the wound is probably worse than it was before?" This caused Blake and a couple of the banner men to smirk. Quentin shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't looked at it since." 

"Look at it now then." There was silence in the tent and everybody looked at Quentin expectantly. 

The sixteen year old coughed curtly, before doing as suggested. He untied the end of the bandage then began to unwind it. When it fell away from his hand, a sickly stench suddenly filled the room and Irving gagged, spitting out the mouthful of wine he'd just taken from his goblet. He looked over to Quentin after pulling his sleeve over his hand and covering his mouth and nose with it. Quentin's hand was not a pretty sight.