by Jody Hedlund
As she started down the steps, pausing at each one, I had to hold myself back from running to her, sweeping her up, and carrying her off. Patience. If I had any hope of stealing her away, I had to have patience. Even then, my task would be more difficult, since the queen would likely be watching Gabriella the closest.
My frustration mounted when the dancing started and guards took their places at every doorway in the room—including the buttery. I stayed in the shadows of the grand hall for the first few dances, studying the entries and the open windows, trying to determine how to accomplish the rescue. But the longer I attempted to map a new route, the more discouraged I grew.
We were trapped. Would I have to fight our way out?
Finally, as the music of a dance came to an end, I strode out into the room, heading for Gabriella. One young man stood with her, a sad smile upon his face. He likely knew as well as everyone else that Gabriella would be chosen, and he’d probably danced with her out of pity.
When I was only steps away, Gabriella glanced up, saying something to her partner but then halting as she caught sight of me. Her beautiful blue eyes widened and filled with both wonder and surprise.
Her lips rounded as if to question my presence there, but I quickly cut her off. “May I have this next dance, my lady?” I couldn’t chance her questioning me about the mine pits and how I happened to escape.
I wasn’t yet sure if news of the revolt had reached the capital city. But it would erelong, if it hadn’t already. When the word spread, I had no wish for anyone to implicate me—at least, not until I had the chance to save Gabriella and kill Grendel.
Before Gabriella could accept my offer, I reached for her hand, clasped it with mine, and then fitted my other hand at her waist. As if on cue, the music began again, and I moved in the steps of the dance. Though I liked the lively traditional dancing of Scania better, Mother had introduced the more elegant dances of the Great Isle into court, giving me no choice but to learn them.
Now as I led Gabriella, I was thankful to my mother for imparting her customs that allowed me to fit in to the gathering.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, staring up at me, still wide-eyed. “How did you get away—?”
I quickly bent in and brushed my lips across hers, hoping to muffle her words from anyone dancing near us. I hadn’t planned on kissing her, hadn’t even thought about what I was doing until my lips meshed with hers.
She responded immediately, almost eagerly. And though everything within me longed to press in and keep on kissing her, I broke away and shifted my mouth to her ear. For several heartbeats, I couldn’t speak, too overcome by her nearness. Finally, I managed a whisper. “Don’t say anything about the mine.”
She nodded imperceptibly.
As I pulled back again to a proper distance, I glanced around to see who might have observed our interaction. The queen, still standing on the balcony above the dance floor, seemed occupied in conversing with two men with tonsured hair rings and long brown habits. I guessed they were monks, perhaps the priests who helped the queen decide which of the maidens would best meet the qualification for her alchemy ingredient?
When I returned my attention to Gabriella, I caught her gazing up at me—at my mouth—with such longing I had to close my eyes and fight the urge to kiss her again, this time thoroughly.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t here to indulge my passions. I’d come to save her life, and that meant I couldn’t afford to make a single mistake.
“I cannot believe you are here,” she whispered. “I feel as though I am in a dream, and I have no wish to wake up from it.”
I opened my eyes to find she was smiling a small, gentle smile. Up close, I could see that her skin was perfect, her features flawless, and her hair gleaming. Yes, she’d been pretty, even in her ragged condition in the mines. But here, now, she was a vision of radiance. This was the way she was meant to be, the way she ought to be from this day forward.
“You look too good to be true.” This time she examined me more openly.
“Ty did his best to make me presentable.”
“He made you incredibly handsome.” The moment the words left her lips, she blushed, and her lashes fell, hiding her eyes.
“It was no easy task.” I tried to keep my tone light to put her at ease.
“’Twas likely no trouble, since you are already so good-looking.” Her cheeks flamed brighter. “I love your eyes most of all.”
As our gazes collided, I wanted to revel in her praise, but I suspected her tongue was loose because she believed her end was near. The imminence of death oft had a way of breaking down reserves and making one say things otherwise hidden.
“Now that you are here, I shall dance with no other.” She slid her free hand over my heart and held it there.
Something in the depths of her eyes told me she cared as deeply about me as I did her. Dare I express myself? What did I have to lose? If her tongue could be so loosened, then why not allow mine to be just as loose? “I want no one else but you, Gabriella.”
Her long lashes fanned up, making her even more beautiful. “And I want no one but you.”
I didn’t care if she’d responded in kind because she didn’t believe we would have any tomorrows left. Regardless, I let her words flow through me, sparking a new plan and giving me the fortitude to do what I knew I must. Though I might not be able to find a way to take her out of the castle, I might be able to stand in her place and sacrifice myself in her stead.
Chapter
16
Gabriella
Vilmar was here, and he wanted me. I tried not to think about how his impassioned words could lead nowhere and that we had no future. Instead I focused on tonight, these dances, this closeness. I would cherish every single second together until the end.
I didn’t care that I was staring at him and memorizing each of his ruggedly handsome features. I didn’t care that I’d gushed over him and revealed how much I adored him. I simply wanted to stay in the circle of his arms, with my hand resting against his heart, feeling his strong and steady lifeblood and letting it lend me his strength.
Yes, I was curious how he’d escaped the mine. Somehow he must have been able to arrange an early release. Had he come here specifically to see me? Had he figured out my plans?
Though the questions swirled within me, I refrained from asking them. I didn’t want to waste any of our last minutes together worrying. He was safe, and that was what mattered.
As we danced, the sun set, and servants lit more candles throughout the grand hall. After several dances, he leaned closer, pressed his face into my hair, and drew in a deep breath. “When I came to Warwick, I never planned to get involved like this, but I did.”
Came to Warwick? What did he mean?
“You changed everything,” he whispered before I could voice my query. “And no matter what happens, I know I’m doing the right thing.”
My heart lurched with misgiving. “Whatever do you mean?” I pulled back slightly to read his expression.
He didn’t meet my gaze and instead turned his attention to the balcony. “When you leave here tonight, I want you to go with Ty. He’ll take you away from Warwick back to my homeland. There you will never have to worry again.”
My feet stalled. I was thoroughly confused. If he wasn’t from Warwick, then why had he been sentenced to work in the mine?
He stopped dancing too, his focus on the queen.
I cupped his chin and gently turned his head back to me. The blue of his eyes was icy, frozen with determination. “Where is your homeland?”
He hesitated.
“Please tell me.”
“Scania.”
“Then why are you here in Warwick?”
“Ty will explain it to you later.”
“I cannot go with Ty.” I stroked his cheek. Though he’d shaven, a slight layer of stubble remained and was rough beneath my fingers. How could I explain my mission tonight? That I might not survive? �
��Remember the enemy I told you I must kill?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve already discovered your true intentions, Gabriella. And that’s why I’m here tonight. I won’t let you fight Grendel.”
I should have known that by departing from the mine so close to Midsummer’s Eve, he would easily add up everything I’d told him. What I couldn’t have anticipated was that he’d leave and try to stop me. How had he managed to get out?
No matter how he’d done it, he wouldn’t be able to make me change my mind. “Someone must fight. And I would that it be me and not one of the other young maidens.”
“It shall be none of you, ever again,” he whispered fiercely. With that, he released me. Before I could grab him back, he was maneuvering away from me through the swirling nobility, and I lost sight of him.
I stood on my toes, searching frantically, a terrible premonition rising within me. He was planning to do something, and I dreaded what that might be.
“Your Majesty.” His voice boomed above the music and conversation.
As the other dancers slowed to stillness, I glimpsed him at the bottom of the queen’s balcony, his handsome head held high and his broad shoulders straight.
What was he doing addressing the queen? My pulse picked up pace, a warning thrumming through my blood, a warning that his interaction with the queen would only end badly.
As silence descended over the grand hall, the queen, in quiet conversation with the priests who stood on either side of her, paused and glanced down at Vilmar. Irritation flickered across her features, the kind that said she’d hoped to avoid such a scene tonight and was frustrated she must now confront a protestor.
Invariably, such confrontations happened every year. We heard about them after the ball, the rumors regarding one family member or another who experienced a breakdown or went mad. The queen almost always locked such protestors away in the dungeons until after the sacrifice.
Such madness was to be expected from the people who had to forfeit their loved ones in so brutal a custom. Even so, I couldn’t let Vilmar say anything. I pushed through the crowd, desperate to stop him before he put himself at risk.
“Your Majesty,” he said again, his tone filling with authority. “I am Prince Vilmar, son of King Christian of the Holberg kings from the great kingdom of Scania.”
Gasps and murmurs rose into the air around me. But the surprise of the other guests couldn’t compare to my own. My feet slowed to a halt, and every function within my body seemed to cease.
Vilmar was a prince?
I shook my head, trying to deny his words. He’d been a slave in the mine pits. And he’d labored next to the rest of us without any privileges, facing the same dangers and experiencing the same deprivations. How could he be a prince? Was he merely saying so? And for what purpose?
The irritation fled from the queen’s pale face, replaced instead by curiosity. “Prince Vilmar? You are the second son of King Christian?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The queen regarded Vilmar for a long silent moment. “And how does my father’s sister, Queen Joanna fare?”
“She fares well.”
Not only was Vilmar a prince, but he was a cousin to Queen Margery? I scrambled to recall the history of the Great Isle. If I remembered correctly, King Alfred the Peacemaker had secured an alliance with Scania through the marriage of his youngest sister, Joanna. In doing so, he’d put an end to the warring raids of the Scanian people and brought about peace.
The queen continued to scrutinize Vilmar. “You are rumored to be next in line for the kingship.”
Vilmar bowed his head in acknowledgment of the queen’s statement.
My heartbeat pounded harder. I couldn’t begin to make sense of anything the queen and Vilmar were saying. Certainly Vilmar wasn’t in line to become king of one of the Great Isle’s strongest allies. How could he be? He wasn’t royalty. No prince would ever be subjected to the degradation and danger of the mine.
“I’m here in Warwick for my Testing.” His voice rang with a disconcerting authority I hadn’t heard there before.
What was this Testing? I wanted to push my way to the forefront of the crowd and demand that Vilmar explain himself, tell me the truth about who he was and his purpose in Warwick. If he truly was a prince as he claimed, then he’d been lying to me all these weeks.
“Ah yes, the Testing,” the queen replied. “So Scania still insists on its barbaric and antiquated way of determining its king?”
“It cannot be as barbaric as your yearly custom of sacrificing a maiden to Grendel.” Vilmar’s accusation was met with stony silence.
His words from moments ago came back to me, his response to my desire to fight Grendel so none of the other women would have to: “It shall be none of you, ever again.”
Suddenly I began to tremble. What was he planning?
“As you know,” he continued, “Grendel is one of the berserkers who used to inhabit the land of Scania. When my father waged war to capture the madmen, Grendel escaped from his knights and came to dwell here.”
“Yes,” the queen replied. “’Tis the story I am told.”
“Then you will conclude, as I have, that my family is partly to blame for Grendel’s reign of terror in your land.”
“Your family is mostly to blame.”
Of course the queen would agree. Then she needn’t accept responsibility for perpetuating the sacrifices over the years.
Vilmar bowed his head once more, clearly accepting the blame, although he knew from all I’d told him of the queen’s true reason for allowing the sacrifices to continue.
“Since we are in agreement,” Vilmar continued, “then you would do my family and country a great honor by allowing me the chance to slay the beast.”
A cry of protest rose swiftly within me, and I started forward again, fraught with the need to end Vilmar’s conversation with the queen. And yet, even as I stumbled closer, my chest ached with an undeniable truth.
I must allow Vilmar to face Grendel.
He had a better chance of slaying the monster and bringing an end to the queen’s alchemy ritual than I did. How could I oppose his offer when it could save many lives in the years to come?
I pressed my fist against my mouth to stifle the objection. Anything I might say would only stem from selfish motives—primarily because I cared for Vilmar and didn’t want to see him confront so great a danger. But also because all along, I’d wanted to get even with the queen and seek revenge for my father’s death.
The queen was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “You are noble to request to atone for King Christian’s mistakes. But over the years, many strong warriors and great knights have attempted to slay Grendel, and no one has prevailed.”
“Their failures are of no consequence to me.”
“Yes, but your failure and subsequent death will have consequences for me, quite possibly angering Scania at the loss of so valuable a prince.”
I suspected the queen didn’t truly care if she angered Scania. She was merely attempting to sway Vilmar away from his quest so she need not fear losing Grendel.
“Your Majesty, let these noble people here in your grand hall be our witnesses. If I must sacrifice my life in an attempt to end Grendel’s, then all will know I did so freely. Thus, you and your kingdom will not be held responsible for my death.”
As the excited whispers and murmurs increased around the room, the queen would be left with no choice but to allow Vilmar the opportunity to fight Grendel. The people were looking for a hero, someone to rescue them from the monster. She couldn’t deny them this chance, not without making herself look calloused and unconcerned.
As if coming to the same conclusion, the queen bowed her head to Vilmar. “My guests here tonight shall be our witnesses.”
“If I lose, my country cannot take revenge. So long as you grant me one wish . . .”
The queen lifted her head and met Vilmar’s gaze levelly. Her eyes were cold and would have m
ade any other person shiver in fear. “And what wish is that, Your Highness?”
“You will allow me to choose a bride from amongst these fair maidens and marry her before going to fight.”
At his declaration, my breath caught in my lungs. A bride? Did he mean me? But how could he? I was no longer a wealthy heiress with a substantial dowry. Even if I regained my riches from the duchess—which was doubtful—I didn’t belong to a family of importance who could provide a political alliance for Scania. In fact, I was a nobody with nothing. Surely his country would disapprove of him taking me as a bride.
“If you live,” the queen said contemptuously, “you will be made king and will have a royal bride chosen for you.”
“By agreeing to fight the berserker, I earn the right to choose my own bride.”
She paused for several heartbeats. “The law in our country states a maiden must reach the age of twenty before being allowed to marry. Therefore, you cannot marry any woman present tonight, not until she reaches the legal age.”
“Very well. Then we shall become betrothed.”
The queen opened her mouth as if to argue with Vilmar further. Then she shrugged. “If that is what you wish, who am I to convince you otherwise?”
“Then let all the people here testify to our agreement.”
“Very well.”
Vilmar’s instructions from earlier—especially those having to do with Ty taking me to Scania—made more sense in light of the revelation that he was a prince. Whether he won or lost the battle with Grendel, he wanted to offer me a safe future, and what better way than to become married or betrothed? Perhaps he was worried the queen would never allow me to have my freedom, not if there was a chance I could reveal the secret ingredient of her alchemy.
But the queen didn’t know my father had told me the secret, did she?
As if I’d spoken aloud, the queen’s attention shifted to me and her eyes narrowed. “Prince Vilmar, you have danced with only one maiden this night. Is Lady Haleigh your choice of a bride?”
