We paused. I could hear King Mortimer’s voice — and a woman’s — coming from the other side of the wall.
When the servant had shown me to my room earlier, the door to the king’s suite had been open. The servant had hurriedly closed it, but not before I got a quick peek of the layout. His bed was located on the other side of the wall near where I now stood. Which meant that both he and the woman were on his bed.
As his betrothed, I should have been outraged by a woman’s presence in his chambers, but all I could manage was relief that it was she in his bed and not me. I shivered, trying not to imagine what they were doing. Mrs. Benton grimaced, echoing my sentiments.
We crept along the dark, narrow passageway for what seemed the entire length of the castle. Our pace slowed by our effort to be quiet, we finally rounded a corner and came upon a stairwell. We descended the tight space, the toes of our shoes gingerly feeling our way over the hard dirt.
Knowing the king could not possibly sense us now, I asked, How did you know these tunnels existed?
My grandfather discovered them about two hundred years ago, she told me. He took care with whom he shared this knowledge. Even His Majesty is ignorant of their existence. We must keep it that way if you are to survive this.
If I were to survive it… I was at great risk being in the tunnels and now so was Mrs. Benton. On the day I escaped successfully, the king would seek out and punish anyone who helped. After this night, I would not speak of my upcoming escape to Mrs. Benton again. The less she knew, the safer she would be. I loved her too much to risk her life any more than I already had.
You have been in the king’s service most of your life. I wonder why you would keep the knowledge of these tunnels to yourself, I said.
I am loyal to my kind and he is our king. Mrs. Benton turned to the right and I followed. But I have witnessed too many injustices during his reign. To sit idly by, when I can be of assistance, well, I could not live with myself.
The minutes stretched as we made our way, inch-by-inch, until we finally hit level floor again.
You have helped others?
She drew a heavy breath. Yes and no. I have attempted to save many over the centuries, but only a handful have survived.
My stomach lurched at the realization that I might end up being one of the many, not the few. But I had to try.
Mrs. Benton guided me down another long corridor and we climbed one more flight of steps. We paused at the landing to check for other werewolves who might be nearby.
I hear nothing. She carefully removed a stone from the wall and peered through the opening. Letting her fingertips guide her until she hit wood, she lifted a plank, then another, and squeezed through.
A rat scampered at my feet. I shuddered and followed Mrs. Benton out of the tunnel. By the scent of hay and horses, we were in the granary.
The servants have likely retired for the night. She held my hand and kept me close. But we cannot be too careful.
Mrs. Benton motioned me toward the window and we tiptoed over. Several yards away near the drawbridge, lanterns glowed as a lone guard staggered like he had indulged in too much spirits. A dog yapped at his feet and beyond them, down the hill in the distance, was a clump of trees.
If we go back the way we came, there is a tunnel that will lead across the courtyard to the smithy. She met my gaze, giving me a stern look. But you will leave that for another day when you have more time to examine the king’s swords and bows.
Weapons! I had to steal what I needed and hide them. When the time came for me to flee, I would only have to travel the tunnels, then climb through the window and freedom would be mine.
Careful in your haste, milady, Mrs. Benton warned as if reading my mind. Do not be so anxious that you do not take a fast horse and provisions. Also, weapons will do you little good if you know not how to use them. Most of all, you must have a very good plan for getting past the guards. She gave my hand a comforting squeeze.
Yes, I needed to think about those things. I had never been more thankful for her and our friendship. If I managed to escape and survive, I would miss her terribly.
She tugged on my hand. We must hurry back, in case a servant comes to tend you and informs the king of your absence.
We took the same route back, past the planks, down the steps and up again, and through the musty corridor. Mrs. Benton halted in front of the narrow wooden door to my room before slipping through. I followed.
Inside, she sat at the foot of my bed and motioned me over to take the spot next to her. “Is your room to your liking?”
I obeyed, giving Mrs. Benton a knowing look. She was making conversation for any eavesdroppers, like the guards just outside my door, so they would know we were still there and all was well. “Yes, thank you.”
“His Majesty will expect you to break fast with him. Afterward, a hunting party will leave and he will be among them. You will have to find a way to amuse yourself until his return that evening.”
Oh, yes, I could surely find a way to occupy my time. With the king gone, perhaps no one would notice if I kept to myself… or rummaged through his room — assuming I could slip by my handmaidens. I might even find something to aid in my escape.
Mrs. Benton and I played several games of cards, then she retired for the evening, but not before a word of warning. You must learn your way around, to be sure, but use caution. If one of his guards catches your scent where you should not be, you will lose the king’s trust and be watched even more closely.
She paused, her lips thinning as she grasped my shoulders. Remember, my child, you mustn’t trust another soul with your knowledge of the tunnels or you may risk your freedom forever. If they are discovered, you may not find another way. I regret that this must be my only act toward aiding you in this endeavor for I have risked too much already.
Of course, I said. I will not involve you further. And I appreciate what you have done. Without you, I may not have found a way.
What you have will not be enough, but you are in no hurry. His Majesty will not take you as his wife for another four weeks.
Only one month. Not much time at all.
~~~
Chapter Three
After Mrs. Benton left, I waited a few minutes before wrapping myself in a cloak again and slipping into the tunnel. I doubted she would approve of another outing that evening, but the sooner I could formulate an escape plan, the sooner I would be free of the king. And as our wedding day neared, he would likely guard me more closely, not less. I had not a moment to lose.
I would learn those tunnels well enough to travel them in a fraction of the time Mrs. Benton and I had. When I left the castle for good, I would be long gone by the time the king and his guards realized I was missing.
As I crept down the long passageway, I silently fumed at my parents. When my father shook hands with the werewolf king four years ago, he was elevated from pack leader to Baron. I had been sold — no better than a slave or peasant — in exchange for a small fortune once the wedding took place.
Since the moment my fate had been sealed, my father gloated over his elevated status, thrilled he would no longer need to hunt to feed his family. My mother behaved no better as she exulted over the honor that His Majesty had bestowed upon her family by taking me as his bride — and the beneficial connections she would make.
Arranged marriages were commonplace. A woman being treated as a possession was not unheard of. It infuriated me nonetheless. My parents had traded my happiness for theirs. If not for them using me as a bargaining tool, I would not be here at all. I would be back in our village, very likely quite poor, but free to marry whomever I chose.
I could not help but wonder how the members of our pack would have behaved toward me had they not known I would be their future queen. Would the young men have looked at me differently, instead of living in fear of offending the king? Would the girls still have been my friends? More accurately, were they ever my friends at all?
And if I had not b
een given my own personal guards wherever I went, what other opportunity might have presented itself? If I had not been promised to the king or if the pack had been kept ignorant of who I was to become, I might’ve had a chance at a normal life — the opportunity get my first kiss behind the well, or the chance to fall in love.
Two things I knew with absolute certainty: I could never love King Mortimer and I would not be his queen.
At last, I reached the door to the granary. Just as Mrs. Benton had done earlier that evening, my hand brushed over the wall in search of the loose stone. Before removing it, I paused to see if I could hear other werewolves nearby, then I peered through the opening. After locating the planks, my heart pounded as I set them down and slipped out of the tunnel and into the granary.
I could not allow myself to be distracted and get caught. The instant I realized a werewolf was nearby, he would be aware of me, too. If he found my scent, he would recognize it the next time he encountered me. I could not allow that to happen. In the future, I would only wander late at night when there was less risk of being seen, and stick to wide open spaces, when possible, to dilute my scent.
After tiptoeing to the window, I crouched and peered out. Not a soul in sight, but that did not mean no one was nearby. I would have to move so fast that no one would see me.
My pulse raced as I braced myself.
From this vantage point I had a view of the spot where I had seen the blond blacksmith that morning. I imagined him as he had looked, his sculpted jaw and the sharp angle of his nose. Mostly, I remembered his deep blue eyes.
His work space would surely have weapons, but would it be wise to search there tonight, leaving my scent for him to discover? I would never get close enough to the slave for him to know it had been me snooping through his tools.
I closed my eyes and concentrated as I inhaled deeply, checking again for any werewolf energy or scents. Finding none, I climbed through the window, raced across the cobblestones in a flash, and slipped inside the dark building. My werewolf vision adjusted quickly and I crept soundlessly to a workbench laden with iron bars that would one day be made into swords.
Beyond the bench, horseshoes lined the walls, along with various metal tools. My gaze shifted to the next wall to see various sizes of daggers and smaller knives. After checking over my shoulder to be sure no one had come in, I grabbed one of the knives and slipped it into my bodice.
Visiting the smithy again would be too risky, so anything I wanted had to be taken now. My eyes scanned a long, wooden table. A bow lay on the end and a quiver hung on a hook nearby.
The women in my village were not allowed to learn about weapons. Our job was to prepare meals, mend clothes and keep house. But since the day I had learned about my betrothal to the king, I had made it a point to touch my father’s bow in his presence, so my scent would not alert him later after I snuck away with it to practice. Winning in any tournaments was unlikely, but when I aimed, I usually hit my target. My arrow might not kill an attacker, but it would slow him down.
Staring at the bow, I knew I would need it since the dagger in my bodice would not be enough. If I stole the bow, where would I stow it? I could not risk being caught with it in my room. I had no idea who else had knowledge of the tunnels and could not take a chance that someone would find anything I left there. However, if I buried the bow in the forest, it would be waiting for me when I escaped.
With trembling fingers, I lifted the bow, then snagged a quiver and crammed it full with arrows. After examining the selection of swords, I chose a shorter one that could be hidden in my clothing, then I located a matching scabbard and hung both around my waist under my robes.
Now I just had to make it to the trees.
The king had guards posted around the castle. Some might even be out in the woods. When I slowed to find a place to hide the weapons, they would easily see me. My heart slammed against my ribcage. But I had to do it and could not delay.
I might die before I ever had a chance to use the weapons. At the very least, I hoped to hide them before anyone discovered me, since having them in my possession would be difficult to explain.
As to why I had wandered outside the castle walls, perhaps I could say that I needed to morph and wanted more space than the bailey provided. If the guard scolded me for not bringing a chaperon, I would say that I had never needed one back in the village. Unfortunately, those excuses would only work one time. I needed to make this excursion to the forest count.
After a check to make sure no guards lurked nearby, I jumped from the smithy window and raced toward the trees, moving faster than I ever had in my life. Once under the cover of the forest, I stood absolutely still and listened for any werewolves who might have followed me. There were none.
But something else was out there. I could sense its energy.
I spun, my heart pounding against my ribs, my stomach fluttering at the sight of the beautiful blond blacksmith standing a yard away.
His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept over me. “The bow, quiver and arrows... I believe they belong to me.”
My mouth dropped open. Why had I not been aware he was following me? A scent drifted to me, but I could not place it. Sweet with a hint of earth.
“I saw you leave the smithy.” He nodded toward the quiver slung over my shoulder. “My father made those for me when I was twelve and the arrows were carved by my hand. I would be most grateful if you would return them, milady.”
I glanced at the bow and quiver, unwilling to give them up. I needed them. “I regret I am unable to relinquish them, sir, but I shall be happy to compensate you for your trouble.”
His stance remained respectful with his head bowed, but his words were clipped. “My father’s gifts are not for sale.”
Letting the weapons go was not an option, though. As a werewolf, especially a born one, I had the advantage of strength against shape-shifters. Still, I did not want to take any chances. I raised my chin and angled my shoulder so he could not easily snatch the bow. “I shall do everything in my power to return your belongings once I have no use for them. I am afraid, sir, that is my only offer.”
He waited a beat, then dropped his voice to a low growl. “Surely your betrothed is wealthy enough to provide for all your needs.”
“Give a woman a weapon?” I laughed, but it was devoid of humor.
His brows rose. “Which begs the obvious question.”
Yes, why did I need the bow? How would I possibly explain that? My gaze dropped to his feet.
He cleared his throat. “He has no knowledge of you being here, nor that you feel the need to possess weapons.”
I saw no point in denying it. Stretching taller, I trained my eyes on his and studied his face for any sign that he might fight me for the bow. He just stood there with arms folded over his chest, staring at me.
“I give you my word that I will find a way to return your things, once I am able,” I said.
He gave a short laugh. “That will not do. Meet me here tomorrow and you shall have another bow and quiver — which are not a gifts from my father.”
I took a step back as I contemplated his offer. I saw few options. If he planned to betray me, very likely I could not change his mind anyway. “And what of our meeting? You will not speak of our conversation or that you saw me tonight?”
“You have my word.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then refocused on me. “I am Eli.”
Could I trust him? His strength would be no match against mine, and the sword within my robes guaranteed victory. But if I killed him, everyone would smell my scent on him. I could cry to the king how Eli had intended to hurt me, but that would be a lie. I would say just about anything to save my own life, but what if Eli meant to keep his word? I would have murdered an innocent man.
What choice did I have but to rely upon his promise?
Fear rose up in my throat and I swallowed it down. “Hannah.”
“It is my honor, milady.” Eli bowed and stepped back, his ga
ze locking on mine.
Something about his deep voice sent warmth spreading through my middle. Becoming fascinated by a shape-shifter — or any man at all — was a terrible idea. I needed to get away from him.
I turned to go, then froze. “Why did I not sense you until you were close? I should have sensed you were nearby when I was in the smithy.”
“I am a shape-shifter.” His mouth twisted up at the corners.
Pressing my own into a thin line, I struggled to ignore the quickening of my pulse. “I am afraid my experience has been limited to my former pack and the occasional human.”
“We do not possess the same strength as werewolves, nor do we emit the same energy. Therefore, we are not as easily detected.” Eli skulked toward me, getting closer until I felt the heat radiating off his skin. “Even like this, my scent is weak. You can sense me, of course, but it is different than what you feel standing next to a werewolf. Your betrothed, for instance.”
No, nothing at all like what I had felt when I had been with the king earlier. I studied Eli’s handsome face and reminded myself not to allow his good looks to distract me. My attraction to him was not worth risking my life. Or his.
“Quite an advantage. If you can take a werewolf by surprise, I wonder why you are allowed to roam free.”
Eli’s eyes darkened. “His Majesty knows I will never leave or do anything to harm him and his people.”
“But why, when you have freedom within your grasp, do you not take it?” I tilted my head.
One second passed, then two before he replied, “You should go before a guard sees you. I will meet you here same time tomorrow and we shall make a trade.”
Apparently, he expected me to keep his belongings and return with them tomorrow. But if he betrayed me, the king would learn of my whereabouts this evening, and the weapons in my possession would prove the shape-shifter spoke the truth. Without the weapons, it was the shifter’s word against mine.
Thrown to the Wolves: The Legend of Hannah & Eli (Shapes of Autumn) Page 2
