The Sorceror's Revenge by Linda Sole Page A

she had insisted they leave once everything was ready.  There was no point in staying longer than need be.  The castle was not her home.  Robert wanted her gone and she could not wait to leave.  Since she must leave her son behind the break would be best done and finished.
                  She had not shed a tear as she allowed Jonathan to put her up on her horse.  Nor would she allow herself to look back as they rode away, Jonathan leading the packhorse that carried their goods.  Robert had forced her to give up her son.  He had paid her with gold and jewels, but for once Rhoda did not care what they might be worth.  She would have snatched her son and fled with him, but Robert had taken good care that she could not break her word.  His son was being closely guarded.  His son!  Inwardly, she raged over the words that Joanne had used.  Robert had had little enough to do with the birth of his son.  Any man could have taken his part.  It was she who had carried him for nine months in her womb.  She who had suffered the frustrations and pain of childbirth, and Jonathan who had held her hand as Harry was born.
                  What right had Robert to claim the boy?  What right to send her away as if she were a brood mare that had served her purpose?  Hate was building inside her as she rode.  The softer feelings that Jonathan’s love had aroused in her were thrust aside to make room for the cuckoo’s egg of hate  that had been planted in her breast.  One day she would make Robert pay for what he had done to her.
                  ‘Are you feeling tired, my love?’
                  Jonathan’s look of concern forced a smile from Rhoda’s stiff lips.  She could not hate him, though a kind of resentment was forming inside her head.  Why had he not stood up to Robert?  He claimed that he loved Harry as his own.  Why had he not refused to leave the child behind?
                  ‘Where shall we rest tonight?’ she asked.  ‘We cannot…’
                  A strange whistling sound made her look towards the trees on the left side of the road, which was at the very edge of Robert’s estate.  Then, as she looked at Jonathan, she saw his body jerk and shudder as the bolt from a crossbow thudded into his forehead.  He stared at her for a moment, as if surprised, and then fell from his horse to the ground.  His horse neighed and bolted, clearly spooked by the unexpected attack. 
                  With no thought for her own safety, Rhoda flung herself down from her horse and ran to where Jonathan lay.  She bent over him, looking at his face.  A thin trickle of blood ran from the wound where the bolt had penetrated deep into his skull and his eyes were still open.
                  ‘Jonathan…’ she sobbed.  ‘Jonathan my love…please don’t die…’  Tears ran down her face as she threw herself down beside him, bending over his body to kiss his lips.  She stroked his face, crying and begging him to speak to her though she knew he was dead.  ‘I love you…I love you…’
                  ‘You should have kept your promise to me, Rhoda.’ 
                  She looked up as the shadow loomed over her.  Kerrin, the man she’d once promised to love, was standing in front of her.  His face was cold and remote, the face of a stranger that sent terror running through her.  Even Robert had never looked at her this way.
                  Slowly, Rhoda got to her feet.  She met his icy gaze but felt no fear.  It was very strange.  Once upon a time she would have been terrified.  Jonathan was dead and Robert had abandoned her.  She was alone in the world but there was still a chance – a chance to win back her son and take revenge on the man who had wronged her. She no longer cared what became of her but she wanted revenge and she wanted her