Chapter 22

The blissfulness was shattered by Phillip’s outraged cry. “You son of a bitch!” He gritted his teeth, shoulders bunched in rage. “Is that it? You’ve been seeing someone else behind my back?”

Sir Charles sheathed his sword. “This no longer concerns you. Run along.”

“What?Oh, don’t you talk to me like that, you—you—bastard! How long has this been going on, huh?”

“Long enough,” Sir Charles said, never losing the calm yet hard tone of his voice. “Now I believe I told you to run along.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, you—” Unable to think of a good enough insult, Phillip lunged forward, fist cocked. Sir Wallace grabbed him and held him back as Sir Charles stepped in front of Wes protectively.

“What’s this?” Sir Rowland exclaimed with a hint of amusement. Both he and Sir Fulke sauntered quickly onto the scene. “Sir Charles, are you picking fights with commoners now? That’s not very chivalrous, is it?”