by Paige Elwood
They headed west towards King Benak’s territory. It had been years since Sarah had ridden a horse, but she had no time to be nervous, and after a few minutes it began to feel as natural to her as running. The cart rattled behind her and juddered over rocks in the road, making her a little apprehensive, but Henry had stuffed it full of hay to stop any accidental combustion. Barring any huge collisions, they should be safe.
“How far is it to the border?” she asked the King, who was galloping beside her.
“Less than an hour,” he replied. He eyed Sarah. “You are not like any other woman I have ever met.”
Sarah grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They galloped as fast as they could, racing towards the border. Sarah didn’t need to ask how far again — she could tell they were approaching by the change in her ring. It hummed to life as they raced towards the border, heating up and sending a tingling sensation through her whole body.
The king gave the signal for them to slow down, and they came to a halt just before the edge of the woodland they were riding through. Beyond the trees, Sarah could see the orange glow of campfires crackling and hear the sounds of men laughing.
“Can you see how many there are?” she whispered to the King.
“No,” he said. “I’ve sent two men to investigate.”
They arranged themselves behind the trees, ready to charge at a moment’s notice. Sarah sat on a large rock, tapping her foot impatiently. She needed to do something. Sitting around waiting was just letting her nerves build.
A rustling in the trees had her head whipping round, and Cedric emerged with another guard in tow. They made a beeline for the King, and Sarah strained to hear the conversation.
“Looks like about a hundred men,” Cedric said.
“All King Benak’s?” the King said.
Cedric scratched his chin. “About thirty of them are Lord Novak’s, sire.”
“What!” the King spluttered. “What are his men doing here?”
“Lord Novak appears to have led the mission, Sire,” Cedric said.
“That traitor! I’ll have his head for this!”
“Did you see Max?” Sarah asked. Lord Novak’s betrayal could be dealt with later. Max was her only concern right now.
“No. We think they’re holding him near Novak’s tent as that’s where most of the guards are clustered, but we couldn’t get close enough.” Cedric turned to the King. “What are your orders, sire?”
“We’ll storm them tonight, when some of the guards are asleep. They outnumber us two to one, so we’ll have to wait.”
“We can’t wait and watch forever,” Sarah said. “The longer Max is in there, the more danger he’s in.”
Sarah thought for a moment. “OK, so we don’t know for sure where he is. But could we identify a few spots in the camp where we know that he isn’t?”
“Why?”
“Because we can target those spots with the fireballs,” she said. “The fire will send the guards running to investigate, and we can take advantage of the confusion and get in there and find Max.”
The king tilted his head, thinking. “That would work. Cedric, can you identify any areas we know are clear?”
“Yes, the west corner is definitely clear, and this section here,” he pointed, “around that large oak tree.”
“Are there any areas on the other side?” Sarah asked. “Ideally, we want to confuse and separate the guards by attacking a few points.”
“We’ll go and investigate,” Cedric said, waving for his companion to follow him.
Sarah unpacked the Onager carefully with the help of two stocky guards, and she positioned it between two trees with a clear line of sight to the camp. She wished Max were here — he had a much better understanding of the distance settings on the lever. She crouched, inspecting the lever and thinking back to the afternoon they’d spent in the field, testing it.
The vessels were definitely lighter than the rocks they’d tested with, so she’d need to adjust it slightly. She slid the adjuster down until she’d set it to the farthest slot. Fingers crossed that was the right one, she thought, turning it to aim at the first point that Cedric had specified.
They waited what felt like an age, but eventually Cedric and his fellow guard returned, with two more spots that they were certain were not being used to hold Max. Sarah felt sick with nerves, but she loaded the first fireball onto the Onager and took a shaky breath.
She closed her eyes and pulled the lever, cracking one eye open to watch the descent of the vessel. It landed on target with a puff of blue flame that soon turned to a bright orange glow. She released her breath, relief swamping her. She quickly loaded the second and aimed and fired. She rapidly followed it up with the third and fourth. True to Max’s word, the Onager was easy to use, and the entire assault took only minutes.
Shouts of confusion were coming from the camp, and King James’s guards had already started to descend on them. Sarah hopped onto her horse and raced down the embankment.
“You can’t… “the King shouted after her, but Sarah ignored him. She was going to find to Max — she couldn’t sit here and wait. She needed to do something. The camp came closer and closer as she sped along, and her ring became more and more alive as she got closer. He was still here, and he was still alive. As long as the ring was telling her he was alive, she’d keep looking for him.
She barreled through a cluster of fighting men without stopping to look back and raced into the center of the camp. She spotted him almost immediately, on his knees outside a large central tent, a knife held to his throat by a tall, graying man with beady black eyes and a hooked nose like a vulture’s beak.
Sarah moved cautiously towards him, her eyes on the dagger, glinting orange from the fires raging around the edges of the camp. “Let him go!” she yelled.
Max’s eyes widened, warning her to get away, but there was no way she was going to leave without him.
The man laughed. “And why would I do that, girl?”
“Because you can’t win.”
“I beg to differ,” he said. “I have all the might of King Benak behind me. What do you have?”
“Brains,” she said.
Chapter 41
Max saw the first fireball hit but didn’t know what it was. Confusion reigned in the camp as another and another hit the perimeters of the camp. They scattered like ants, looking for water to douse the flames, and trying to identify where the attack was coming from.
This was his chance! He sat up, ready to free his feet, but a cold, bony hand gripped his throat. Seconds later, her felt the bite of steel against his skin. Novak.
“Your father is cleverer than I had thought,” he said into Max’s ear. “But he can’t win this war.”
Max froze. He could free his feet but not his hands, and Novak could open his throat before he’d even had a chance to stand. Adrenaline coursed through him, and his mind raced. There had to be a way to get out of this. A flash of white caught his eye, and for a moment her thought he was hallucinating. Sarah approached on an enormous white horse, and Max belatedly felt the ring humming on his finger. It had been heating up for a while, but he’d been so distracted by his predicament and trying to escape that he hadn’t even registered what it meant.
His mind put the pieces together quickly. It was Sarah that had caused the fires — she’d somehow found a way to create the fireballs! Pride swelled in his chest even as the dagger bit further into his skin. Novak’s bony hand had him by the hair, yanking his head back to expose the vulnerable flesh. He tried to make eye contact with Sarah, to somehow communicate his plan. But Sarah’s eyes were firmly on Novak, assessing the situation.
She looked wild, beautiful, and fierce astride the horse, facing down Max’s captor. His heart pounded with both fear and pride for her. She finally made eye contact, and he used his hands to subtly point at his feet. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he knew she’d understood.
Novak taun
ted her, and Max edged his feet apart, loosening the ropes further and further until his feet were free. Suddenly, Sarah reared her horse and galloped around the back of the tent. Max felt Novak’s grip tighten on his hair, and then slacken in confusion as Sarah rode past him. Max took advantage of the momentary distraction and the loosened grip to get to his feet. He used his elbow to knock Novak out of the way, and ran as fast as he could, hands still bound, around the tent.
Sarah was waiting, and she helped him onto the back of her horse before speeding off, galloping out of the camp and up the embankment. Arrows whizzed past them as the guards tried to stop their escape, but none of them found their target.
When they reached the woods, she stopped the horse and helped him down, embracing him tightly. He felt the wetness of her tears against his neck.
“Hey, we’re safe, why are you crying?”
“I was so scared that I was going to lose you.”
He wanted to touch her cheek, but his hands were still bound in front of his body. He held them out. “You couldn’t give me a hand here, could you?” he asked.
She rummaged around and found a knife in one of the discarded knapsacks around the area. She cut through his ropes carefully, and he grimaced as circulation rushed back to the area.
“Did I hurt you?” she said, brow furrowed in concern.
“No,” he assured her, reaching out and stroking her cheek. “You could never hurt me.”
They watched the battle below, Sarah’s back pressed into his chest and his arms around her. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he breathed in the comforting scent of her. She always smelled like flowers and fresh air. His father’s guards were holding their ground, meaning that King Benak’s guards couldn’t get past them.
They observed for a few minutes, making sure that his father and his guards were all concentrated in the same area. When they had established that to be the case, they loaded the Onager with one of the six remaining fireballs and bombarded the camp with flames.
By the fourth fireball, Benak’s guards retreated and his father’s army, satisfied of their victory, returned to their own makeshift camp. Max watched as his father approached on horseback and cautiously dismounted, moving towards where he and Sarah stood.
“I owe you an apology,” he started. Max gawked, having never had an apology for anything from his father. “I was hasty in banishing Sarah, and now I’ve witnessed her bravery, I don’t think that I could ever consider her unworthy again. Even if she was a commoner, I’d be hard pressed to refuse you both now.”
“Thank you,” Max said, snaking an arm around Sarah’s waist and pulling her to him. “It means a lot.” He paused, his father’s words sinking in. “What do you mean if she was a commoner?”
Sarah grinned. “Well, as it happens, I’m actually a wealthy and titled landowner, Your Highness.” She gave him a mock curtsey.
“Why did you never say anything?” he asked.
“I needed to find the proof,” she said. “Which is what I was doing while you were out getting yourself kidnapped and causing havoc!”
He laughed. “That wasn’t my actual plan, but yes, sorry about that!”
“I’m just relieved that you’re safe,” she said, leaning against his chest.
“Me too,” his father added.
Chapter 42
They rode through the night, the journey back to the castle seeming faster than the journey to the border. By the time they streamed through the castle gates, it was breakfast time. A loud growl from Max’s direction startled her and she looked at him, shocked.
“Sorry,” he laughed. “I’m starving!”
They burst into the castle, laughing and talking, and the Queen came running from the throne room at the sound of their arrival. She ran straight to Max, cupping his face in her hands and gazing up at him, inspecting him for signs of damage. “Thank God you’re alright,” she breathed, tears of relief streaming down her face.
His stomach growled again. “Apart from being starving,” he said.
“Come, come,” she pulled him by the hand. “It’s time for breakfast.”
* * *
She turned to her ladies’ maid, who was always beside her like a shadow. “Please, tell the cook to make the finest breakfast he’s ever made. And bring bread immediately!” The maid scurried off to fulfill her wishes.
Sarah was feeling hungry too, and she started to make her way to the kitchen to see if the staff breakfast was being served yet.
“Where are you going?” a gravelly voice boomed after her.
“Breakfast,” she said, confused. Then she remembered that she didn’t actually work at the castle anymore. “Would that be alright, I mean, I’m starving and…”
The King laughed, a deep, belly chuckle, and Sarah was confused. “My dear, you may certainly eat breakfast here, but I insist that you eat it with us.”
Tears of joy pricked Sarah’s eyes. “Really?” she said.
“Of course!” he laughed. “If you’re going to be the Princess of the castle, you can’t really be eating breakfast in the kitchen! I know you like to break a few rules, but this is one I absolutely insist on!”
Sarah smiled and took the arm the King was offering. Her reality suddenly took her breath away. She was going to marry a real, live Prince!
Breakfast in the royal dining room was a much different affair. She took her seat next to Max, who squeezed her knee as she sat. The bread was already laid out, and it was followed by course after course of meats, cheeses, and fruits. By the time she’d finished eating, she was fit to burst!
“So, James,” Max’s mother said when they’d eaten their fill and the servants were collecting the leftovers. “I suppose we should arrange for another betrothal ceremony.”
Max grinned. “The sooner the better.”
“Then we’ll arrange it for next month,” his father said.
Sarah almost choked on her water. “So soon?”
“Yes,” the King said. “The kingdom needs stability, and to see that my son is settled down with a noblewoman.”
Max squeezed her hand. “If that’s ok with you?”
Joyful tears spilled down her cheeks and she squeezed his hand back. “Of course that’s ok with me,” she whispered. “Oh! I do have one small request.”
“Just name it,” the King said. Sarah explained what she wanted.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. Sarah was given a beautiful bedchamber in the guest wing that must have been three times the size of her old room. It had enormous doors that opened out onto a stone balcony overlooking the courtyard, the biggest four poster bed that Sarah had ever seen, and perhaps her favorite thing — an enormous, roll-top bath.
Sarah sighed at the sight of the bath. It had been so long since she’d had the luxury of relaxing in a nice, hot bath. The Queen ordered her personal maids to attend to Sarah, and she watched as they filled Sarah’s bath with hot water.
“We’ll need to appoint you your own ladies’ maid,” the Queen said.
“Can I choose them?” Sarah asked.
“You can,” the Queen said, “but I know a few delightful young ladies who would be excellent for the task.”
Sarah smiled. “I’m sure they would be, but I have someone specific in mind.”
Half an hour later, Agata wandered into her room, eyes as wide as saucers. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Positive,” Sarah said. “I wouldn’t have anybody else for the job.”
“But a princess should be attended to by an actual lady,” Agata said.
“Ahh, well. The thing about that,” Sarah said, holding out an envelope to her.
Agata took it but looked embarrassed. “I can’t read,” she reminded her.
Sarah nodded. “We’ll get you a tutor. But that envelope contains a legal document signing my land and titles over to you. You are now officially a landowner!”
Agata screamed in delight, making Sarah jump in surprise
. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself!”
“Well, if you’re up to the job, I’m going to need a fancy dress and shoes for my betrothal next month,” Sarah said.
Agata grinned. “I know exactly what to ask the tailor for.”
Agata left to arrange her dress, and Sarah soaked in the tub for almost an hour until her feet were wrinkly. She lathered with the lavender-scented soap that the maids had left, and relaxed into the hot water, her tense muscles turning to jelly.
She climbed out, wrapped herself in a bath linen, and combed through her wet hair, occasionally pausing and looking around her room in disbelief. She was engaged to a Prince! The ring on her hand hummed pleasantly as she blotted her hair with a spare linen.
When Agata returned, she was carrying two new dresses.
“Surely I only need one?” Sarah said, looking at the dresses. They were beautiful, a deep forest green and a purple one similar to the dress she’d been given by the Queen. They weren’t quite what she’d hoped for, though. She tried to keep a happy smile on her face and was startled by the sound of Agata laughing.
“Your face!” Agata giggled. “Don’t worry, these aren’t for the betrothal. I just thought a Princess to be should have more nice dresses than just hand-me-downs from the Queen.”
Sarah beamed. “I’m that easy to read?”
“Yes,” Agata laughed. “Don’t worry. Your betrothal dress is very, very special. I promise. It’s going to take him a couple of weeks to make it.”
She laid out the two new dresses on the bed and turned to Sarah, hands on hips. “Now, let’s get you dressed like the lady you are.”
Chapter 43
The next few weeks passed in a blur of royal banquets, lessons from the Queen on royal medieval etiquette, and glorious time spent with Max without them having to hide or worry about who might see them.
