by Jody Hedlund
But how could I explain the shift I sensed between Gabriella and myself? After spending so much time together, it was only natural we were becoming friends. But was our pretense turning into more?
I sat up and rubbed a hand across my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was unintentionally lead Gabriella to believe something more permanent could ever exist between us.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone back to seek a jewel. And yet how could I have done anything less? It wasn’t in my nature to stand helplessly by while someone suffered.
I peered at the open journal again, then pushed myself up so I wouldn’t give way to the temptation to read it. Even as I combed my hair with my fingers and tied it back with my leather strip, I feared that with each passing day, Ty’s account of my activities was making me look less worthy of becoming the next king of Scania and not more. I had to prove to him—and the Lagting—I was serious about my Testing here in Warwick. But how?
As I left the hut, the other slaves stopped in the midst of their evening meal preparation to congratulate me again. Gone was the wariness and mistrust. Acceptance and warmth filled their faces instead. Even Curly nodded at me across the fire pit where he relaxed next to Molly.
I glanced around, hoping to see Gabriella, and immediately half a dozen people directed me to the infirmary. Was my growing interest in her that readable? Or had our ruse already convinced everyone we adored each other?
Whatever the case, I should have guessed she’d be in the infirmary. That’s where she spent the majority of her time. And of course, now with Alice having taken ill, she’d spent nearly every waking moment there.
Taking the praise in stride, I crossed to the infirmary and paused at the door. A soft melody wafted outside, beautiful and poignant at once. Gabriella had a lovely singing voice, and at times I found myself just listening, unable to interrupt.
With everyone watching me, however, I hovered only a moment longer before I ducked through the low doorway. At the sight of me, her song came to an abrupt end.
I made myself look at Alice, although I wanted nothing more than to take in Gabriella’s beauty. The memory of her gratitude from earlier, the wideness of her eyes, the delight in her expression, brought a rush of warmth to my chest. And when she’d hugged me . . .
No, I wouldn’t allow myself to think about her embrace, how she’d been the one to initiate it.
“How is Alice?” I asked.
“After I administered the decoction of yarrow and willow bark, her fever broke within the hour.” Gabriella’s voice was filled with such joy I couldn’t keep from sharing a look with her. She smiled at me again, as she had earlier, and I knew I’d go down into the depths of the mine and do it all over again for that smile.
“She awoke a short while ago and had something to eat,” Gabriella continued. “And now she is resting peacefully.”
“I am heartily glad to hear it.” Seeing that Alice was the only one currently in the infirmary, I wanted to sit across from Gabriella and simply be with her. Her gentle spirit had a way of soothing the troubled soul as much as her singing did. And yet, hadn’t I just admonished myself to maintain better boundaries with her? After all, when I returned to Scania, the Lagting would finish making my marriage arrangements to a woman of their choice, likely a princess of royal lineage. Such a union would bring glory and power to Scania.
Gabriella brushed her hand across her servant’s cheek. “’Tis my fault she is here. And I cannot allow her to die.”
Some, like Curly, were strong enough to endure indefinitely. But from what I’d heard, most slaves didn’t last long—maybe a year or two. Alice would be hard-pressed to make it through the summer.
What about Gabriella? How long would she be able to live in this harsh environment?
My stomach roiled at the prospect of her having to remain here for months, perhaps years, languishing until she was as haggard and maimed as some of the slaves who’d survived the longest.
Once I finished my six months of Testing, how would I be able to depart from this place, knowing how much she still suffered? In truth, how would I be able to leave anyone behind?
“I wish there were more I could do for Alice,” I said. “And for you.”
“You need not worry about me. I am able to fend for myself.”
“Yes, you are indeed a strong woman.” She possessed a reservoir of fortitude I didn’t understand. How could she keep giving so much of herself day after day?
“If only I could find a way to secure a release for Alice and Benedict.” She caressed Alice’s cheek again. “They do not deserve to be here.”
“Neither do you.”
She focused on Alice, and for a few seconds I allowed myself the pleasure of taking in Gabriella’s beauty—the soft red of her hair, the elegance of her features, the sweetness that emanated from her.
When she peeked at me a moment later, I dropped my attention to Alice.
“Vilmar,” she said hesitantly. “When you finish serving your sentence, will you find a way to help Alice and Benedict?”
Of course she wasn’t asking for herself. She was too selfless to do so. But I knew with sudden clarity that once my time here was over, I would make an effort to secure Gabriella’s release. If I didn’t try something, I’d never be able to return to Scania in peace. “I shall do my best to find a way to free you and Alice and Benedict.”
“So long as Alice and Benedict are safe, ’tis all that matters.”
It wasn’t all that mattered to me. I held back my thought, but as I left the infirmary a few minutes later, I wished I hadn’t allowed myself to care so easily for the people here. This wasn’t my country, and these weren’t my subjects. I had no business interfering in Queen Margery’s discipline of her people, no matter how unjust her methods were.
I’d do well to remember it.
Chapter
7
Gabriella
I swept the knife sideways, staying light and agile on my feet as Vilmar had instructed. Then I aimed for the imaginary target where Grendel’s neck would be and stabbed hard at the air, picturing the vulnerable artery there.
“Better,” Vilmar said quietly from behind me.
I lowered the knife, as our time for today had come to an end. The scant minutes we had were never enough, but over the past weeks of secret training, I’d finally begun to feel more comfortable with the weapon. And Vilmar’s directives for how to fight, move, and where to slice for the most damage, had been exactly what I’d needed so I could kill Grendel before he killed me.
If only I didn’t feel my father’s disapproval every time I held the knife. And if only I didn’t always hear his words about kindness being the greatest weapon echoing in my mind.
With only three weeks until the Midsummer’s Eve Choosing Ball, my time was growing short. I needed to write to the duchess erelong. When she read my note, I had no doubt she’d send for me, which meant I had to be well trained in wielding a knife first.
Though Vilmar indicated I was better, was I good enough?
Sitting on a stone near the bend in the passageway, Alice had leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. From the peacefulness of her breathing, I guessed she’d fallen asleep. Thankfully, after receiving the medicine, she’d recovered rapidly. While still weak and easily spent, she’d resumed her work in the mines, though we assured her we would fill her quota.
As I handed the knife back to Vilmar, I hesitated in departing. Perhaps I ought to extend the training to allow Alice a few more minutes to slumber. Certainly I didn’t desire to linger with Vilmar because I longed to spend more time with him, did I?
I couldn’t deny that over the many days of working together and getting to know him, I’d grown to genuinely like him. It was difficult not to. Not only was he ruggedly handsome, but he was considerate and helpful to everyone. And after what he’d done for Alice, I admired him more than any other man I’d known, perhaps even more than my father.
Nevertheless, I
couldn’t allow myself to care about him beyond our friendship. Permitting anything more was foolhardy when I would soon leave him behind and never see him again.
He returned his knife to the hiding place in his boot. “Perhaps I can make a target for you to practice throwing the knife.”
“Will that help?”
“If you told me more about who you’re planning to fight, I would know how to train you better.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d plied me for more information. Something within me wanted to tell him, especially with his light-blue eyes imploring—almost begging—me to do so.
“Please, my lady.”
The gentleness of his whisper was almost my undoing, and I had to force myself to think of my father’s death and the queen’s part in it to strengthen my resolve. “I cannot speak of it.”
His shoulders sagged.
The secrets I held deep inside suddenly flared, scorching me with their heat. I should so like to share the burden with someone else. But I’d held them close these many months and couldn’t stop now.
“What more can I do to aid you?” he asked as though sensing my resolve. “Shall I instruct you on basic self-defense techniques you could use if you should find yourself without a knife?”
I planned to have a knife when I met Grendel in the arena, and I planned to kill him the moment he reached for me. But if something went amiss, I would be wise to have an alternative. “Very well. What other techniques should I know?”
“Perhaps some moves that would allow you to escape an unwanted hold?”
“Unwanted hold?”
“If you’re captured and have no weapon for fighting, there are other ways to break free.”
Since I would be a willing sacrifice, I had no intention of attempting to free myself. Even if I wanted to run, the queen made sure the fairest maiden was unable to. But I couldn’t tell him that. For several minutes, he showed me how to use my elbows to hit someone, lifting them to shoulder height and then pivoting and using the momentum to strike.
“Now if someone pins your arms from behind”—he slipped his hands onto my waist—“you must learn to free yourself first, using the elbow strike.”
Before I could protest, he’d wrapped his arms around me, pinning me in place. He was merely demonstrating, and yet at his hold, all thoughts of training fled.
“You must bend low and shift your weight.” His whisper was near my cheek. The solidness of his chest pressed into my back, and the strength of his arms enveloped me so thoroughly I couldn’t think or move.
“The goal is to get at an angle where your elbows are once again free to use against your foe.”
Even if I had been able to think or move, I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay right where I was.
“Bend, my lady.”
I closed my eyes and relaxed into him, resting my head against his shoulder. “Like this?”
“No, bend forward.” I could feel him draw in a breath as though to explain himself further, but then he stalled. For a moment, his body remained tense.
Finally, I felt an easing in his muscles. “Of course, you can always weaken your enemy’s self-defenses. That works too.”
“Is that what I’m doing, my lord?”
“Very much so.” Though his hold had loosened, his fingers on my waist tightened.
At the pressure, I relaxed against him even more. “And am I your enemy, my lord?”
His chest rose on another breath. And when he exhaled, I could feel the warmth near my ear. “Your beauty most certainly weakens me. But you are far from my enemy.”
While such an enchanting compliment might be new for me, from the smoothness with which the words had rolled off his tongue, I could tell he’d had plenty of practice in the art of wooing.
“How many other women have weakened you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
He dipped his head, his mouth near my ear. “Do I sense jealousy, my lady?”
I started to pull away, embarrassed by the truth of his observation.
A gentle press of his lips to my temple stopped my efforts and weakened my knees. I reclined against him again, a thrill whispering through me. He’d been right. I hadn’t needed to force myself to like him. Not even for an instant. He was thoroughly likeable in every way.
“I can admit to enjoying the company of many a maiden in recent years,” he whispered. “But I can also admit none have ever come close to affecting me the way you do.”
“Many a maiden?” I didn’t want to think about him with many maidens, and yet I couldn’t keep from imagining women more beautiful than myself falling into his arms and under his charm. I shouldn’t be bothered by such images, but strangely I was.
I bent forward as he’d instructed me and then used my elbows to slug him hard enough that he released a soft oomph. As soon as I made the move and twisted away from him, I clasped a hand over my mouth, horrified at my outburst.
He grasped his stomach and bent over.
“Vilmar.” I touched his back. “I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean to hurt you.”
He remained down for several more seconds before he lifted his head, his winsome grin in place. “That was just right. I see you are a natural at self-defense.”
“Then you are unharmed?”
“No, I’m terribly wounded.”
“Truly?”
“Wounded you think less of me for my past dalliances.” His grin began to fade, replaced by a look I couldn’t interpret but that made my stomach flip upside down.
“I do not think less of you,” I admitted softly. “If you must know, I admire you most exceptionally.”
“I admire you too, Gabriella. Very much.” I could sense he wanted to say more, but at a noisy yawn behind us, I spun to find Alice was awake, watching our interaction without a trace of sleepiness to her countenance.
Had she been alert the whole time and merely resting? Had she witnessed me practically throwing myself into Vilmar’s arms? If so, she would have seen I wasn’t pretending to like him, that my attraction was genuine. Surely she would scold me later for allowing anything to develop between us when such a relationship was futile.
“Come now.” I crossed to Alice. “We have been gone long enough and must return to work before our friends start to worry what has become of us.”
As I helped Alice up and led her forward, I could feel Vilmar’s gaze trailing me. I forced myself to keep going, unwilling to look back at him. I’d already so foolishly revealed just how smitten I was with him. What good could come of allowing more feelings to develop between us when in three weeks, I’d likely be dead?
Hours later, as we began the arduous trek out of the mine pits, Curly fell into step behind me.
“I want ye to marry Vilmar,” my friend whispered.
The words were so unexpected that I tripped and would have fallen except that Benedict held out a steadying hand.
“Marry?” I squeaked.
“Aye, marry.”
“Hush.” I glanced to the rear of the group, where Vilmar hiked with Ty. Hopefully, he was too far back to have heard Curly. Even so, the stone passageway was narrow, and every sound echoed.
“He be a good man and a good fit for ye.”
“I have no plans to wed.” I shifted my bucket from one arm to the other, the weight bending me over as it did everyone else.
“Ye must, so when he’s done serving his six months and his family releases him, he can be taking ye with him.”
“No one ever leaves the mine pits.”
“Ye will. With him.”
I climbed for several more paces, trying to process Curly’s words. Was he insinuating I use Vilmar to escape back to civilization? And was such a thing even possible? Would the overseers and guards allow me to go with him if we were husband and wife? They liked me well enough that they just might. And would they let Alice and Benedict accompany me?
The very idea that I might be able to save Alice and Benedict from this nig
htmare sparked hope inside me. I’d already asked Vilmar to help free my faithful servants once he was restored to his family. And though he told me he’d try, we both knew he had no guarantees. Would the chances be greater if I married him?
Though I didn’t know much about where he planned to live, I could beseech him to take us somewhere far away from Queen Margery and her cruelty and evil practices, someplace safe where she’d never find us.
But if I did so, I’d have to abandon my chance to put an end to the yearly sacrifice to the terrible beast. And I couldn’t do that, not when I could save countless young women in the years to come, and not when I had the chance of bringing slavery in the mine pits to an end. Without the maidens, no more jewels would grow, and the slaves wouldn’t be needed.
“I cannot,” I whispered to Curly.
“Ye can and ye will.” His voice turned hard, a tone I’d heard him take with others when he was determined to get his way. But he didn’t know my plans to bring an end to Warwick’s most dreaded custom.
“I shall not use him.”
“Ye’ll not be using when he cares about ye like he does.”
My thoughts returned to earlier when we’d been training and he’d held me as though he cherished me. The remembrance of his arms surrounding me warmed my insides, and I still felt the imprint of his lips against my head.
“And ye cannot deny ye care about him in return.”
Of course I couldn’t deny it, not after the past few weeks of keeping up our charade. Even without the pretense, I couldn’t deny I liked him. I hadn’t been lying when I admitted I admired him exceptionally. It was the truth. Even so, marriage wasn’t the answer.
“We cannot get married, Curly.”
“People get married all the time in Slave Town. In fact, I’m planning to ask Molly to marry me erelong”
