Brute 170

Chapter 170 

LADY KENNETH’S POV 

It was the day of the testing. 

Lady Kenneth sat in her carriage, the leather seat shifting beneath her with each turn of the wheels. Outside, the crunch of hooves against the frozen road mixed with the murmur of a growing crowd. 

The air inside was thick with the faint smell of ink and paper, her notes, her orders, her reminders, none of which helped her calm the irritation pressing behind her ribs. 

Matron Yara’s words still echoed in her mind. There are strangers in the North. Possibly, witches and rogues. People arriving without banners or names. 

It had been days since that conversation, but it wouldn’t leave her. The way Yara had said it, with that careful, pained honesty, had felt more like a warning than gossip. The Matron had spoken as someone loyal to the throne, someone who would rather risk offending the Lord of the North than keep the King blind. 

Still, Kenneth hadn’t taken her words at face value. She had written to her father that same evening and sent a sealed message to the King’s men before dawn. It was already in motion, a quiet inquiry, the kind that reached ears faster than letters. 

The carriage jolted as it slowed to a stop. Kenneth’s gloved hand tightened on the edge of the window frame. From outside, the noise of the square began to rise. 

Her attendant leaned closer. “We’ve arrived, my lady. The stage has been prepared in the square.” 

Lady Kenneth nodded but stayed seated for a moment. 

At first, she hadn’t wanted the testing to be public. It would have been simpler, quieter, if it had been done within the keep walls. But the people demanded spectacle. And Cassian had allowed it. Of course, he had. Anything to appease his precious consort. 

A part of Kenneth almost admired Lady Atasha’s position. To be adored and feared in equal measure, that was power. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed foolish to make it public. If the testing proved she wasn’t a witch, it would only make her image stronger. The North would treat her as something close to divine. And that was dangerous. 

The carriage finally stilled. The attendant outside tapped twice on the door. 

“My lady,” he said. “There is still no sign of the Lord or the Lady of the North, but all council members have arrived. The square is full.” 

Kenneth’s jaw tightened. “Good,” she said. “Let’s begin.” 

The attendant stepped down first and opened the door. Cold air rushed in, biting her face and cutting through her fur cloak. She took his hand and stepped out. 

The noise hit her at once. The murmur of hundreds of people gathered around the square, miners, soldiers, townsfolk, all pressed close to the barricades. The crowd was restless, packed shoulder to shoulder. 

And then, cutting through the noise, a voice shouted, “Lady Atasha is not a witch!” 

The words rippled through the air like a spark catching dry grass. 

“She healed my son!” another voice yelled. “She’s no witch!” 

“She saved the miners!” someone else shouted. “Leave her be!” 

The roar swelled, hundreds of voices overlapping, anger rolling through them like thunder. Kenneth froze where she stood. Her pulse jumped in her throat. 

Guards moved instantly, forming a barrier in front of her, but it didn’t stop the shouting. Faces in the crowd twisted with fury, some red with cold, others flushed from rage. The air burned with it. 

For the first time in her career, Lady Kenneth felt the weight of public hatred. It wasn’t the usual discontent of bureaucrats or nobles behind closed doors. This was raw. Loud. Real. 

They weren’t afraid of her. They despised her. 

A man near the front pointed toward her carriage. “She’s the one who wanted the testing!” 

“She called the council to humiliate our Lady!” another shouted. 

The guards’ line stiffened as people began pushing closer, boots scraping over the packed snow. Kenneth’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her calm mask starting to crack. 

She forced herself to stand taller, shoulders squared, chin raised, but the noise only grew. For all her composure, her stomach turned cold. 

This was not the North she knew. 

And this was not a crowd she could control. 

“SILENCE!” 

The word cracked across the square. Lady Kenneth turned toward the stage and immediately saw the speaker. Matron Yara stood there, flanked by two guards. Even with the wind biting at her cloak and the sky heavy with gray, the woman looked steady, every inch the voice of reason the crowd needed. 

“Is this how we treat the envoy of the King?” Yara’s voice carried through the square. “With shouting and threats?” 

The crowd didn’t fall completely still, but the volume dropped fast. The shouts softened into grumbles, the kind people make when they know they’ve gone too far but don’t want to admit it. 

Yara took a step forward, her hands clasped before her. “Do you think this testing was brought here to shame the Lady of the North? Do you think the throne sent Lady Kenneth to stir trouble?” She shook her head. “You’re wrong” 

All eyes were on her now. The councilmen exchanged uncertain looks from the steps below the stage, clearly content to let her speak for all of them. 

“It was not the throne who demanded this testing,” Yara continued, her tone firm but calm. “It was us, the council of the North. I brought this request forward, using the merits of my own house, and I did it with the support of your leaders.” She gestured toward the gathered council members. “We made this decision for one reason, to protect the North.” 

Yara continued. “Rumors spread faster than fire in winter. And when they concern the Lord and his consort, they become weapons. Do you want to see the North divided by whispers and fear? Do you want our enemies to twist our silence into weakness?” 

A murmur of disagreement rippled through the crowd. Heads began to shake. 

“That is why this test must happen,” Yara said. “We will not let the rest of the kingdom say that the North hides witches or doubts its own leaders. We will not give them reason to strike at what we’ve built.” Her hand pressed over her chest. “I am the one who asked for this. Not the throne. Not the King’s envoy. And certainly not to insult Lady Atasha, but to ensure her name, and our Lord’s, remain beyond question.” 

She turned, sweeping her gaze over the people. “We, the Northerners, have stood against hunger, war, and blight. We do not bend. We do not cower. But neither will we let our enemies use one woman’s gift as an excuse to divide us. That is why I stand here today, to see the truth proven, for all of us.”