The Beggar Princess

by Lidiya Foxglove

  One of the trees bowed its branches down to me in return, although the voice seemed to come from several directions at once. This tree must be acting as representative. “If it’s the princess you wish to see, you must make a promise to the forest.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I would wish to repay you for helping me.”

  “You must promise you will not rest until the Longtooth wolf brothers are dead.”

  “Fine by me,” I said, pacing with impatience. “I don’t intend to rest until they’re dead either way when they’ve stolen my wife.”

  “Travel north and look for the rock that is shaped like a resting rabbit. Look for a drop of blood upon it. Turn west there and you shall find your bride.”

  “A drop of blood?” I demanded. “Is she bleeding?”

  “You will find her alive.”

  That was some consolation, but not enough.

  I followed these directions. By now night was beginning to fall. I forged on. Before long, I smelled woodsmoke, and that drove me to move faster. Then, I saw the glow of a fire, and caught by the glow, my beautiful wife, clad only in her shift, shuddering back from the dark form of a man. She seemed to be all in one piece, but she looked terrified and so vulnerable that I couldn’t contain my rage.

  I drew my sword and braced myself for the fight of my life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Princess Bethany

  I thought Black would notice the knife and threaten me with it, but at that very moment, Jack burst out of the brush. The gleam of his sword catching the firelight, and the striking red of his hair, was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. He went straight for Black, who sprang backward, crouching low. Immediately, he started to change into the form of a wolf, black fur sprouting along his arms and face as his ears and nose lengthened to a snout. His clothes tore around his changing body. It was quite striking to watch. I had never seen such magic and a small part of me was glad to witness it, because I thought I would use it in a story someday.

  Of course, Gray was just a step behind him.

  “Jack!” I hissed, making sure he paid attention to both.

  I’m not sure he was paying attention to me. He was caught up in the fight, swinging his sword at Black as his body was twisting into full wolf form, shaking off his tattered clothes. The wolf dodged the blade, so close that it might have shaved a few hairs off his back, and skirted around to try and jump Jack from behind.

  Now Jack was the one who barely dodged. He twisted just out of the wolf’s lunge, so one paw caught the edge of his shirt and tore it, but not his skin. I strained against my bonds, wishing desperately that I could help.

  Or could I? I noticed the knife, sitting right at my feet. I tried to pick it up with my toes. I was still wearing stockings, which made it difficult. I gritted my teeth and scraped my toes hard against a jagged root sticking up from the ground. I tore my stocking, all right, and tore a cut along the underside of my foot as well. It hurt even more than cutting my finger and I let out a cry that luckily no one noticed amongst the grunts and growls of the fight.

  Jack was fending them off, his weapon flying one way and then the other. He drew first blood when he sliced Gray’s arm. Seeing him fight so well buoyed my own courage. I pushed aside the pain and fidgeted my toes in the dirt, trying to pick up the knife between them.

  I glanced up again just in time to see Jack’s sword point flying forward at Gray, who was turning his head away but was too late to dodge. The blade caught Gray in the chest or stomach somewhere; I couldn’t quite see, but Gray let out a howl of pain and drew back from the fight.

  One down! I lifted my foot up behind me, trying to grab the knife with my hands. I couldn’t see what I was doing. My fingers groped carefully, locating the blade. I shifted it gingerly to my hands and started sawing the rope. It was not a thick rope and didn’t take long to snap, throwing me forward, my stockings stumbling on cold ground. Everything felt a little damp. My foot was still throbbing.

  I looked up just to see Jack strike the black wolf. His fur was so dark that it was hard to see; he was a mass of shadow, making a terrible sound somewhere between a growl and a scream when the blade penetrated his flesh. I suppressed a whoop of relief. Jack was as good with a sword as he was with a chicken stew. We were winning this.

  But then, the injury only seemed to anger the wolf, giving him a fresh burst of strength. He lunged at Jack, knocking him back. Jack shoved the wolf off of him with his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, and then the blade slashed again.

  I thought Jack would have had an easier time with Gray out of the way, but Black seemed more ferocious when he fought alone. He growled, saliva dripping from his jaws. The sound was oddly human, not just the growl of an animal, but someone with a true anger. I felt as if I could hear his words. He hated elves and humans.

  I wondered if he might have a point. Wolves were shunned. But they also couldn’t be trusted to control themselves, so what else could we do?

  Gray turned human again. He was naked now, and bleeding. He grabbed up his torn shirt and pressed it to his wound, and edged toward the warmth of the fire.

  My eyes darted between him and Jack. I wasn’t sure what to do. The black wolf was fast, dodging the sword and snapping his teeth at tender flesh. I saw the wolves look at each other. Black was driving the fight toward Gray. They would catch Jack between them.

  “Jack, don’t get too close to the fire!” I cried, hurrying toward the fray with my knife.

  Jack glanced at me. Gray picked up a spoonful of hot applesauce. “I learned this one from you, girl,” he said with a laugh.

  Before Gray could sling the hot applesauce at Jack, I lunged at him with my knife, plunging into his hand. This was what my heroines would have done.

  He dropped the spoon. Blood immediately poured from the wound. I drew back, alarmed at the sight. This was not what my heroines would have done; they were braver than I was, and I paid the price. Gray reached for me with his bloody, mangled hand, catching my own hand and bringing it to his mouth.

  “I’ll taste you yet,” he growled, sinking his teeth into my flesh. As he bit me, he transformed back into a wolf again, his teeth digging deeper. I had never felt such pain, but the shock was worse. I felt him ripping through my hand. He’s going to eat me!

  “Get off of her, ye wolf bastard!” Jack drove a sword into the wolf’s back, and his mouth went slack around my hand as his eyes dulled. Jack had killed him with a blade to the heart. The ground seemed to rumble ominously with the sound of death.

  “Jack!” I cried, “Don’t worry about me!” Black was still just behind him.

  Jack turned, muscles straining as he whipped the sword out of the dead wolf and barely managed to fend off the beast as he leaped again. Carefully, I extracted my hand from the wolf’s mouth.

  But the rumbling wasn’t actually the sound of death. It was men running toward us—soldiers. A dozen or so elven warriors burst into the wolves’ camp, and Black was struck down with an axe, his head rolling to the ground. It happened so fast that I actually screamed as if I felt sorry for him. Then I looked at my mangled hand—my writing hand!—and I didn’t feel sorry for him after all. They both would have killed us, if they had the chance.

  I snatched up a scrap of the clothing that had torn away from the wolves when they transformed, and quickly wrapped it around my hand. I didn’t want to look any more. I thought I had seen my own bones. The pain was starting to make me feel a little light-headed.

  “Your majesty!” one of them shouted, going to Jack’s side. “Thank the gods we’ve found you! Going off alone like that!”

  “I had to save my queen,” he said. “I couldn’t wait for you; it would’ve been too late.”

  “Queen?” I gasped. I thought I hadn’t heard right. Maybe the pain was making me hallucinate.

  “I am your King Thrushbeard.”

  “Thrushbeard?” one of the men asked.

  “A joke between us, aye, lass?” A ghost of a
smile crossed his expression. “I am your king, Brennus of Mardoon, and you are my queen. Our marriage is true.”

  “But—ohhh, but—”

  I would have to ask questions later.

  For now, I think I needed to faint. It’s what my heroines would have done—once it was all over.

  Chapter Nineteen

  King Brennus

  I caught Bethany as she collapsed. Her body felt small and fragile in my arms, even limp as it was. “Her hand,” I said, seeing the blood soaked through the coarse cloth tied around it.

  One of my men—Aberin, who had some basic field medical skill—took the hand and unwrapped it. I shut my eyes in a long, pained blink. “Oh, lass,” I breathed, even though she couldn’t hear me. I hardly wanted to ask Aberin’s opinion, fearing the worst, but I forced myself. “How does it look?”

  “I don’t think she’ll lose it,” Aberin said. “We must get her to a healer as soon as we can.”

  “Well, that’s bloody obvious,” I snapped, angry at myself for letting her be hurt. She had tried to fight for me, but she was no fighter. Nor was she a cook, a gardener, a maid, or a keeper of chickens.

  But she was brave. And a brave girl could not be too selfish to be a good queen. I kissed her head and settled her into my arms. Hopefully, all could be put right when I got her home.

  “The horses are back by the river,” said Eldavar, a lanky archer with dark red curls. “You go on. Gaius and I are going to search their camp, to see if we find evidence of anything else they might have plotted or done.”

  I nodded. “That’s wise.”

  We walked back to the river. Some of the men carried torches, lighting the way. The moon was full, and yet hardly a speck of light penetrated the tree cover. If only elves had the keen night vision of goblins and darklings, but we were meant to live in the green and gold light of our forests, not the shadows.

  When we reached the riverbank, as I was climbing onto a horse and Aberin lifted Bethany up for me to hold against me, her head flopping, I heard the whispery voice of the trees again.

  “You have defeated two. One brother remains. Do not forget your debts, o king of the elves.”

  “One brother remains?” I cried, with that most terrible of realizations—that I had let myself be tricked into a promise while I was worrying over Bethany. “Where is he?”

  “He dwells far to the north and far to the west, in the land of the blue stag.”

  “Is that where these thieves came from? Well, I’ll send my men after him right away.”

  “The forests will offer you no trees until you find him.”

  “Oh, I’ll find him,” I said. “Have no worry over that.” Damn wolves. Just when you think you’ve kept the forest safe, they have to start something up again and you realize it was never safe at all.

  “We wish you well.”

  “Oh, aye,” I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Elves loved and honored the forest, but my father always did tell me, you could never forget that it is full of dangers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Princess Bethany

  When I woke, I was on a horse, on King Brennus’ road. My husband’s road, I realized, remembering what had happened. Or was all of that a dream?

  And I was in horrible pain. My hand was on fire.

  His arms were around me. He smoothed a hand over my hair, soothing me. A cloak was draped over me, and I pulled it closer with my good hand. “Shh, lass…ah, I wish you had not woken, but we’ll be home soon.”

  “Brennus?” I said, more to confirm my memories than anything else.

  “Aye,” he said. “Brennus. You’re queen of the wood elves now, so try your best to hang on until we’re safe behind castle walls. You’ll want to keep a scrap of dignity as we travel the roads, I imagine.”

  My god, that meant I really was a queen, and the man holding me really was King Brennus himself, master of a grand castle and a beautiful city and a fine forest. A few days ago, that might have pleased me more. Right now, it seemed far away.

  I was just glad to be alive.

  “You worried me, lass,” he said. “I thought I might lose you when I couldn’t find your trail. Please tell me…they didn’t touch you, did they? Because if they did, I’ll tear off their bloody balls and mount them to my wall.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about my hand. “No,” I said. “I believe you came just in time. And—I think it’s a little late for that. Besides, that would be the last thing I’d want to look at on the wall…”

  “What did they want with you all those hours?”

  “I made them applesauce,” I said, and I couldn’t help smiling, even through the pain. “I told them it was magical. I peeled apples, and scrubbed their horribly dirty dishes, and swept the floors, and stirred the pot. And when all that was done, and they tied me to the tree, I told them a story. I did everything I could…everything you meant for me to do from the beginning.”

  “That was never how I wished it to go.”

  “Of course it wasn’t. But it placed everything in a new light.”

  I understood Brennus a little more now. When we had first come to town and encountered the beggar, no wonder he showed sympathy to her. She was one of his own people, and his compassion for her was real. And he really did know how to cook and clean and tend his own horses. It was a world away from how I had been taught that kings should be.

  I had always thought it was beneath me to do dirty work and that princesses should have everything.

  I felt like a fool. I had been so wrong. Nothing mattered except this—having breath in my body, and him beside me. I was never going to miss my jewels or my furniture, but I would miss him fiercely the next time he left my sight. And all the while that King Brennus had been cooking meals for me, he was never my servant. All the while, he had been making me his.

  “You played quite a trick on me, back at my father’s castle,” I said. “Your beard is gone.”

  “Beards do come and go,” he said.

  “But—one minute you were there in the hall and the next minute—”

  “Aye, I had to be quick about my disguise. My manservant shaved me and cut my hair shorter right there in the hall and I already had my beggar clothes on beneath my court ones. I drew a few odd looks in the process, I’ll say that.”

  “I don’t understand…you planned all this from the beginning? But how did you know I was Lady Whittenstone?”

  “I didn’t. Your father invited me to meet you, but I came to your court hoping to find Lady Whittenstone. I didn’t know who she would be. When I saw the mark of a writer on your hands and exchanged words with your sharp tongue, I knew. But if I told you straight off, you’d turn your nose up at me, you made that clear. I’ve read all your books, milady, and I know just what sort of thing stirs your fancies, don’t I? You don’t like things to go easily for you. So I offered your father an agreement in secret.”

  A fresh wave of pain rolled through me, and I moaned. Brennus clutched my good hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice turning rough with regret. “I won’t forgive myself for this…”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “Those wolves simply had a vendetta against people. The black one went to school in Arindora when he was young, and he was not treated well, but then he said he killed some of the boys at school.”

  “I vaguely recall such an incident,” Brennus said. “Must’ve been ten years back.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I think he must have been a strange wolf.”

  “You feel sorry for him, don’t you, even with all he might have done.”

  “He wanted to learn, when wolves don’t go to school,” I said. “I wanted to write novels, when women don’t write such things. I understood that part of him, and once you understand one thing about a person, it’s hard not to feel funny when they’re dead. Though I don’t regret it.”

  Brennus nodded. “It will be your choice, now, if you want to keep your stories secret.”
/>   I smiled weakly. “I’ll have to see how much your court likes gossip.”

  When we reached the castle, it was the dead of night. I had slipped in and out of consciousness, the pain in my hand overwhelming everything. One minute I was blinking awake, seeing the silhouette of the castle against the moonlit sky. The next minute, Brennus was carrying me down a dim hallway. A few people in long brown robes met us, asking him what had happened. I was soothed by the low murmur of his voice, speaking to them. The heavy cloak that had sheltered me on the ride was cast aside and I was placed in bed, cradled by pillows.

  I screamed as they unwrapped the dirty scrap of cloth from my head. Fibers clung to dried blood. The pain was unbearable. I thrashed, Brennus clutching my other hand.

  “I need the white tincture,” the eldest robed man said, pointing toward a shelf. “And for the gods’ sake, let’s give the girl some brandy.”

  A bottle was placed to my lips, and I drank, coughing as alcohol burned down my throat. I had barely recovered when he put drops of the tincture on my hand, the strong smelling liquid like torture on my open wound. The old man called for poultices, cool leaves pressed to the skin, and then a younger woman took my hand and asked for quiet.

  She sang strange spell words in a beautiful voice, and for the first time I started to feel truly better. I sighed. As the pain abated, the relief was so wonderful that I thought maybe it would be all right after all.

  The young woman looked over me, at Brennus.

  “Will she be all right?” he asked.

  She paused, and looked at me. “The good news is, she will not lose the hand. But it will take a very long time to heal fully. There is no way around that. And…it might not be as it was.”

  “But—!” I cried. “I need my hand…”

  “Some things you may have to learn to do with your left,” she said. “A few things you may not do again. But, my lady…you are our queen now, and all of us will be happy to help you with anything you need.” She patted my shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s such a poor welcome.”