Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  She shivered as the shadows deepened outside the high, grated window, located at eye level. The early spring air still wielded a sharp chill. Despite the breeze, the small dungeon chamber reeked of human waste, proof it hadn’t been cleaned since the last person spent time here, but she was already growing used to the smell. Stench was the least of her troubles.

  As Sophie paced the dungeon cell, she prayed for Duchess Ermengard, since the book of Saint Luke told her to love her enemies. It was a difficult task, she had to admit. But the verses also said that God would someday put her enemies under her feet. She supposed she needed to be righteous for God to do that, so she continued praying for her enemy.

  Duchess Ermengard was an unhappy person, given to vengeful speeches and angry outbursts, and Sophie shuddered to think how the duchess would be punished if the injustices perpetrated by her — especially all the cruel things she had done to the innocent people who served her — were discovered. Trying to kill defenseless puppies was the least of her offenses. Sophie had heard whisperings of people the duchess had murdered over the years, often with poison the duchess concocted herself. And she had killed at least one servant Sophie knew of, a servant who had attempted to leave Hohendorf without the duchess’s permission.

  The duchess’s sins spread yet farther. She had destroyed the castle’s chapel when Sophie was only seven years old, and she’d done away with the village priest. Sophie wasn’t sure if the duchess had killed him, but she must have, or he would have told someone what she’d done. The church in Hohendorf had been vandalized and looted, but many people, including Sophie, still went there to pray. She could still see the young priest’s face, could still recall his reverent look when he spoke of Jesus the Christ and his love for mankind, his sacrificial suffering.

  One of the maids had rescued an illuminated, transcribed portion of the Holy Writ that had been destroyed when the duchess burned the chapel. The rescued pages contained the book of Saint Luke, or most of it. Sophie had kept this precious portion of the Bible hidden ever since, and only took it out when she was certain none of the duchess’s spies were about. She wished she had it now so she could read it. In truth, she practically had the whole portion memorized.

  The familiarity had come in part because she often had to read it aloud to the other servants, as she was the only one who could decipher its words. The priest had secretly begun teaching her Latin when she was five years old, claiming it was because she was the last surviving member of a noble family, though she still didn’t know what he’d meant by that or who her parents were. She had long ago decided the priest must have been mistaken — what noble parents would leave their daughter in such a dreary and hopeless demesne, and as the lowest servant of such an evil duchess?

  Facing the small window, Sophie let her mind travel. She was standing in the middle of a sunlight-drenched meadow, situated in a safe, spacious, warm land far away from the duchess and her evil intentions. She was free. No one was yelling at her or belittling her or locking her in a dungeon.

  Sophie wasn’t sure if she had dreamed the vision of her standing in the sunny meadow, or if it was a vision from God. All her life, as far back as she could remember, she had lived on the hill of Hohendorf, at Hohendorf Castle, where the dense forest surrounded the stone castle and blocked out the sun. Sophie had never experienced an open field. Each day was dominated by the gloom and shadow of the forest. In fact, when Sophie felt oppressed by her surroundings, she recalled the time she had been allowed into an upper tower to help clean. There, through one of the windows, she had seen the village below, at the base of the castle hill, and had gotten a far-off glimpse of a sun-soaked meadow. For a moment, in front of the window, she had felt the sun flooding her from head to toe. It had seemed like heaven, and she had wanted to experience that again.

  Of course, as a servant, it was a sin to run away from one’s mistress. But would Sophie not actually be saving the duchess by escaping? By leaving the duchess’s service, she was keeping the duchess from further sin — the mistreatment of an innocent person. And Sophie was innocent, for she had always tried to be a good servant to the duchess. No, that wasn’t true. She had sometimes done things she knew the duchess wouldn’t like. Things that had led to her standing in this cell now — saving the drowning puppies and sneaking food to Roslind when she was in the dungeon.

  When Sophie was younger, she’d thought if she were good enough and behaved well enough, the duchess would come to love her, or at least treat her better. But she had eventually come to realize that her efforts were wasted on the duchess.

  Still, because of what the Bible said and what the priest had told her, Sophie stopped herself from taking petty revenge on the duchess like some of the servants did when they spit in her food or spoke hate-filled curses against her under their breath. The priest had once told her — this she remembered clearly — that God loved the merciful and pure of heart. The priest had also said that she must never hate anyone. Hate was of the devil, and love was of God. So even though the duchess had locked Sophie in this horrid dungeon with the rats and the filth — all because she had saved some puppies — and punished her for every perceived slight, Sophie must not hate her. And, Sophie reasoned, since she was the servant the duchess hated the most, leaving the duchess’s service was the greatest gift of mercy she could bestow on her mistress.

  “Jesus,” she whispered. Just saying his name comforted her as she came to accept that she was going to be locked in for two days and nights. Two days was a long time to go without food or water, so daunting a thought Sophie had to clutch the cross to her chest and pray more fervently.

  “Sophie.”

  She looked up, squinting at the window. A hand was there, holding an apple. She hurried over and found Roslind kneeling on the ground outside, which was level with the window.

  “You shouldn’t be here!” Sophie grabbed the apple through the bars. “Make haste! Get away before the guards see you. I couldn’t bear for you to get in trouble.”

  “No one is around.” Roslind peered in through the bars. “Your lip looks swollen. Did someone hit you?”

  “It is nothing. It barely hurts.” Further evidence of the duchess’s sins. “I’m glad you came and am thankful for the apple, but you really must go unless you want to join me in here.”

  “All right, Sophie. I’ll be praying for you.”

  Sophie smiled at her and waved at her to go.

  Roslind smiled back and called, “Good-bye, sister!” as she ran off.

  Both Sophie and Roslind were orphans and had no siblings that they knew of, but they and the other servants were their own family.

  Sophie bit into the apple, hoping to eat it before the rats smelled food.

  The apple tasted sweet, though it was a trifle shriveled, left over from the previous autumn. Sophie wrapped her arm around herself while she ate the entire thing, then threw the stem and core out the window.

  She stared out at the trees that shielded the setting sun, and a chill that had little to do with the cool air nipped at her heart. Her constant prayer was that God would provide a way of escape. Somehow, some way, she would have to flee, and she sensed it would be soon. She was old enough, a grown woman at seventeen years old. It was time she attempted what no one as yet had ever accomplished — escape from Duchess Ermengard and Hohendorf Castle.

  She hated to leave behind her “family,” the other servants she loved. Sophie often daydreamed ways to save them all. Sometimes she thought of ideas that seemed almost possible, and other times her ideas were farfetched — finding a magic pond that granted wishes, or encountering a brave knight who offered to save her and her friends from the duchess.

  But daydreaming would do her no good. She must start planning.

  If she were to marry a free man, her husband could take her away. But the duchess would never allow that. Could she hide amidst the traveling merchants’ wares? No, guards searched each cart as it left the Hohendorf gates.

  As she pond
ered each potential mode of escape, the rats became bolder, skittering out of the dark corners of the dungeon and watching her, their beady eyes shining in the dark room. Sophie forced herself to ignore them.

  As the sun began to set, she noticed someone else approaching her window. “Mama Petra!”

  The cook, Petra, lifted her skirt and ran the rest of the way, falling to her knees by the window.

  “Here, Sophie. Some bread and cheese for you. Eat it quickly. And a stick to keep the rats away.”

  Petra shoved the things at her through the bars. Sophie grabbed the food but couldn’t catch the stick before it clattered to the stone floor. She almost laughed.

  “Oh, Petra, you mustn’t be seen! I couldn’t bear it if you were punished for helping me.”

  “Nonsense, child.” Petra stuffed her hand through the bars and squeezed Sophie’s arm. “I would do much more for you, my dear.”

  Sophie saw tears in Petra’s eyes as her bottom lip quivered. Then Petra jumped to her feet and hurried away.

  “Thank you, God,” Sophie whispered. “Thank you for Mama Petra and Roslind.”

  She set about to eat her food as quickly as she could. If she got rid of the evidence, perhaps her friends wouldn’t get caught and punished for helping her. Although it seemed as if Duchess Ermengard had eyes everywhere and could see through the very walls.

  The sound of a key grating in the door lock made her jerk away from the window. She shrank into the dark corner, clutching the half-eaten food to her chest.

  The door creaked open and something came sailing through it, landing on the floor. Then the door slammed shut again, the key grating once more.

  Sophie crept over to see what had been thrown in.

  A blanket of gray wool. She picked it up. It smelled clean, so she wrapped it around her shoulders, unable to hold back the smile on her face. “Who could have done this?” she whispered to herself. Most likely, the old guard Walther. Sophie had helped care for his sick child when everyone else was too afraid to come near, frightened of catching the strange fever that had been accompanied by a rash. Sophie suspected he had a soft heart for her because of it.

  The scratching of the rats came closer, reminding her to eat. She bit into the hunk of cheese, then her bread. It was still fresh and soft. She sighed as she chewed.

  “Sophie.” This time a large, dark form knelt at the window.

  Lorencz. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized him. He’d paid a lot of attention to her lately, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

  And now he was kneeling by the dungeon window, calling her name.

  Ever on her guard around anyone connected to Duchess Ermengard, Sophie asked stiffly, “What do you want?”

  She heard a confidant laugh. “Come and see.”

  Slowly, Sophie stepped closer, dropping the blanket to the floor and flipping her apron up over her food to hide it.

  As he watched her, she studied his face, which was hard and flinty, with sharp angles. A short, stubbly, light-colored beard covered his chin and jaw, and a small scar cut a line under one eye. But he was undeniably handsome, especially a moment later when he flashed his smile, showing perfect, white teeth.

  “See what I brought you?” He held out a flask.

  “What is it?” She shouldn’t let him think she trusted him.

  “Some wine. I heard you were here and thought you may need the refreshment. I know the duchess forbid you to have water, but she never said anything about other ways to quench your thirst.”

  Sophie stared at the flask. She had no desire to indebt herself to him by accepting his gift, but two days and nights without anything to drink was a dreadful thought. Still, she made no move to receive it. She wasn’t dying of thirst yet.

  “Perhaps I can convince the duchess to let you out after one day instead of two.” He quirked his eyebrows up.

  Sophie chewed her lip. Why was he being kind to her and offering to help? Or was he pretending? Sophie had learned early in life that she was unprotected in this cruel world, and the way to survive was to be suspicious of everyone’s motives and intentions until proven otherwise, especially if they had more power and freedom than she had.

  “Will you accept my gift?” He held the wine flask up to the bars.

  Sophie hesitated. She reasoned that perhaps this was God’s way of providing. Perhaps God had sent him. She would like to believe this man was the answer to her prayers. But she didn’t dare; a deep part of her warned that his gift came from an ulterior motive.

  Then she remembered the pain of thirst, the sharp, raw ache in her throat after one day without water, the horror and desperation of the second day.

  Sophie slowly reached her hand toward the window. Lorencz slipped the flask through the bars into her open palm.

  “Thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure. Have I told you how comely you are?”

  “Once or twice.” She forced a hard, sarcastic edge into her voice.

  “You should go for a picnic with me tomorrow.”

  “Even if I were to agree, that would be impossible. I will still be in this dungeon tomorrow.” She tapped one of the bars for emphasis.

  “Not if I get you released early.”

  “How do you plan to manage that?”

  “I have my ways.” His eyes flashed mischievously.

  “A personal favorite of the duchess, are you?”

  “You might say that.” His voice was deep and smooth.

  “I see.”

  “I like you, Sophie. You’re not like the other servant girls.”

  “You’re wrong. I am exactly like the other servant girls.” Poor, orphaned, and powerless against her mistress.

  “No, there’s something special about you.” He leaned his shoulder against the stone casing around the window, giving her a lopsided grin, his eyes focused on her face. “You have” — he sighed — “a beauty that is quite rare. Any man would be proud to have you for a wife.”

  Sophie snorted and was glad she had allowed the rude sound to come forth. She wanted him to know she didn’t trust him, that she believed his mention of marriage was a ruse. He was hoping to fool her into trusting him.

  “Why don’t you trust me, Sophie? Don’t you believe that I like you? That you’ve stirred this hard heart of mine?”

  So he admits his heart is hard. “Maybe I don’t trust you because I’ve heard it all before. Maybe you’re not the first to lie to me … to attempt to lead me astray.”

  Lorencz laughed out loud. Sophie resisted the urge to shush him. She supposed it wouldn’t matter if he did get caught, seeing as he was immune to the duchess’s rules and above punishment. Still chuckling, his gaze returned to her face, and she tried hard to find sincerity in his expression. Was it possible that he was willing to help free her from Duchess Ermengard’s clutches? Unfortunately, there was a wily, secretive glint in his eyes that made such hopes seem foolish.

  Still, it was tempting to throw off caution and tell him she’d love to go on a picnic with him, just so he would get her out of her cell. Perhaps she should agree. Why not?

  Why not? For many reasons.

  Though his laughter had ceased completely, he continued to smile at her in a way that made her feel funny inside. His half grin, his confident look, and the obvious strength in his broad chest and shoulders appealed to her much more than they should have. If anyone could help her escape the duchess, it was surely this man.

  He leaned into the bars, only a foot away from her. She took a half step back.

  “Come with me,” he whispered, his brown eyes mesmerizing her, like an invisible string holding her to him. “I promise not to lead you astray on our first picnic together.” His mouth twisted in a grin.

  Sophie’s heart thumped hard against her chest. He was handsome, yes, and he had singled her out, but he was dangerous. She had to keep telling herself that.

  “Very well, then. If you can get me out, I’ll go with you.”

  Sophie imm
ediately regretted her words.

  Lorencz jumped to his feet. He swept the leather cap from his head and bowed low. “Fare well, then, my lady.”

  He was mocking her now. He chuckled as he strode away.

  She shuddered at the commitment she now couldn’t rescind, even as a surge of hope rose inside her.

  Chapter

  3

  Valten had stared down the tip of a lance and had been confronted with broadsword and battle-ax, but those tournament games seemed like a child’s playacting. His betrothed alive? And in danger? If there were any small possibility that she was his betrothed, he had to go and rescue her. But how? He couldn’t go anywhere with a broken leg.

  “We must find out if this Sophie is Duke Baldewin’s daughter. It wouldn’t be right to ignore the woman’s claims.” Valten clenched his hand into a fist and met his father’s gaze. “I would leave today if I could sit a horse.”

  “I know, son.” His father thoughtfully rubbed his jaw.

  Valten glanced at Gabe, who stood in the background, looking as deep in thought as Valten felt. Surely Gabe wasn’t concerned with this business? Valten felt a twinge of resentment at his little brother even being allowed in on the discussion. After all, Gabe was no warrior. What could he do? And it wasn’t his betrothed in question. It was Valten’s. Or, rather, she might be.

  “I would go and take a few knights with me,” Duke Wilhelm said, “but I have that emissary coming from King Sigismund in two days. It is too late to put him off.”

  Gabe stared steadily at Valten, then at his father. Valten knew that look. His little brother was about to propose something foolhardy.

  “You must send me, Father. I can find the girl.” Gabe was twenty years old, only two years younger than Valten, but in Valten’s eyes Gabe was still a mere boy — an irresponsible, reckless boy who often overestimated his charm and the trouble it could get him out of.

  Valten stifled a laugh, which came out as a snort. “Come now, Gabe. You know …” Valten shook his head at him.

  “What? You can’t go, Father can’t go, but I can.”