by Tara Rose
Jumping out of this wagon was going to hurt. She might even break a bone. But then again, she wasn’t going to simply let these people take her. They neared a sharp curve and the wagon slowed. Lucky break. And it was also her best shot at freedom. She had to go now.
She considered trying to jump over the side, but then realized the back of the wagon was a gate that opened. She glanced at the drivers again, but they were too focused on navigating the road in the dim light. She unhooked the back and eased it down, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds.
By the time it hung free she was covered in sweat, but they still hadn’t noticed. As they neared another curve, she rolled out of the back of the wagon and over the gate, praying they wouldn’t hear it or feel it.
* * * *
Roland paced the king’s private sitting room, along with Denver, Archer, Jon, and Samuel. In the next room, Atheron was with the Council and a large contingent of guards, planning their search and rescue mission for Chelsea.
They were also discussing Enfield, and the fact that it was time to stop dicking around and do something about their infiltration inside this castle.
Two of the guards who had been assigned to guard Roland, Archer, Denver, and Chelsea’s suite were missing. Anne and Lawrence were also missing. The men surmised that all four had taken Chelsea, and it had been easy to guess where they were headed.
It was a three- to four-day ride to the Wastelands, assuming dry weather. They had to have rendered her unconscious and taken her still in her nightclothes, because as far as the three princes could tell, none of her personal items were missing, and there were very few signs of a struggle inside Archer’s room. It had happened fast, and all three plus Atheron agreed it had likely been a spur-of-the-moment decision when she surprised them in the room.
They’d told him Chelsea’s concerns of having caught Lawrence once before in Archer’s dresser, and then Atheron asked him what they might be looking for. Archer had finally confessed he’d kept Dalton’s personal journal, after having found it in his brother’s room once Dalton was dead. But he had no idea how Lawrence had found out he had it.
Archer had shown them where he’d placed it, in a hidden compartment in his desk, and it had still been there. Lawrence might have known that Archer had it, but not exactly where he’d placed it in the room. Now, Atheron had it with him in the next room. Archer hadn’t read it yet, and couldn’t explain why he hadn’t turned it over to his king instead of keeping it.
But Roland wasn’t half as concerned by that as he was about Chelsea. He understood Archer’s decision to protect his brother’s personal journal, especially since he was now dead. But the journal might contain names or other information they desperately needed, so the king had taken it.
If Chelsea was hurt, or if her unborn baby was harmed in any way, Roland vowed to personally kill the people responsible. His heart was full of sorrow for her right now. He pictured her terrified and sick, and it made him want to mount a horse and go look for her himself. But Atheron had asked the three to wait until he could convene this emergency meeting of the Council and his most trusted guards, so that was all Roland could do right now. He had to wait.
* * * *
Chelsea lay in the dirt until she could no longer hear the pounding of the horses’ hooves, and then she rose. There was enough daylight to glance around and scan the horizon. She spotted smoke curling, as if from a chimney, and ran toward it as fast as possible in bare feet.
She was hungry, thirsty, and her entire body trembled, but she had to keep going. As she came over a rise in the terrain, a tiny village lay spread out before her. She started crying, then impatiently brushed away the tears and headed for the closest house, praying the people inside it were loyal to King Atheron.
* * * *
Denver watched carefully as Atheron and most of the Council crowded into the sitting room. He wanted to fire off questions, but forced himself to stay still and wait. The looks on their faces gave him hope. These men were ready for a fight. Finally! He wanted to praise the stars in heaven. Even his father and uncle looked determined. It was about damn time they showed some backbone.
“We are at war with Enfield,” said Atheron. Denver had always admired their king for the way he didn’t mince words or dance around an issue, and right now he wanted to jump for joy at this decision.
“I have signed orders to mobilize our army and sent out guards to alert the villages. As for Chelsea, Anne, Lawrence, and the two missing guards, we have plotted the fastest route to the Wastelands, and have sent out men on that route, as well as several alternate ones they might have taken.”
He gazed at Roland, Archer, and Denver in turn. “We will find her. I give you my word.”
Denver bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Then he bowed to his father and uncle. “And thank you, sirs, for seeing that this is the best course with regard to Enfield.”
“And what of the guards and others inside these walls who are not loyal to you?” asked Archer.
Atheron actually grinned, but it was filled with wickedness. Then he held up Dalton’s personal journal. “You truly never read this, did you? That wasn’t a lie.”
“No, Majesty. I did not.” Archer sounded offended that he had even asked.
“Too bad. It has lists of names and dates. Very useful now.”
“I didn’t know…”
Denver clapped him on the back. “It’s all right.”
“But if I had read it, Chelsea might still be here.”
No one could argue that point, but that didn’t mean Archer had to blame himself for this. Denver glanced at his king. “I want to join in the search. We all do.”
Atheron nodded once. “As you should. But I must insist you travel with guards.”
“Agreed,” said Archer.
* * * *
Chelsea drank tea and ate the eggs and toast the kind couple had made for her. They had left the house only for moments, and returned with the village mayor, who had listened to Chelsea’s story with an astonished face. The man had then sent his personal messenger straight to the castle, and told him not to leave until he had delivered the note to the king himself, or to Prince Roland, Archer, or Denver.
Chelsea had wanted to borrow a horse and return, but the couple plus the mayor insisted she was not well enough to travel on her own, and that she would be safer if she waited for them to come to her. The woman gave her a dress to wear, and then Chelsea had confessed to her that she was pregnant.
“Oh, what joyful news. You are the first woman from the other world then.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“We must keep anyone else from knowing you are here. There are Enfield spies everywhere.”
“Thank you.”
As the morning dragged on, Chelsea paced the tiny house, wishing she could do something other than wait. Where were her princes right now? Were they in the castle, or had they gone out to look for her? How would they find her if they were out in the woods searching?
What would happen when Anne, Lawrence, and the two guards she guessed had been either driving the wagon or on horseback realized she was gone? Would they turn back to the castle? What if they found Roland, Archer, and Denver before they received word from this village?
She was making herself sick with worry over the myriad of scenarios that could play out, and because she was so helpless here. She couldn’t go back on her own and she couldn’t send word to them in any other way than had already been done. She had no choice but to wait, and the uncertainty was killing her.
* * * *
Archer rode next to Roland and Denver, with guards surrounding the three of them. He let the others focus on where they were going. He was angry. Angry at his dead brother, angry at the Council for not taking this more seriously before now, angry at the guards who had knelt before their king and sworn an oath to be obedient and loyal until death and then betrayed that oath, and angry at the servants who had betrayed them.
But most of all, he was angry at himself for not turning that personal journal over to Atheron months ago when he’d taken it from his brother’s room, the afternoon of Dalton’s execution. If he had, or at least if he’d read it, none of this would have happened. They’d have had names and dates, and would have prevented Anne and Lawrence from ever being assigned to them. Chelsea would be in their suite right now, where she belonged.
And Molly wouldn’t have died. The triplets’ many indiscretions and crimes would have been discovered before that had occurred. So many events of the past few months would have been prevented if he hadn’t been so hell bent on saving a dead man’s reputation.
This was his fault. And if anything happened to Chelsea or to her unborn child, that would be on his head, too. And he’d never forgive himself for it. He didn’t deserve his title or his rank because he’d failed them all, but especially Chelsea. The girl he’d chosen.
“Sire, someone approaches from the west.”
They stopped their horses at the guard’s voice, and Archer watched a lone rider sprint toward them. When he was within shouting distance, he stopped his horse. “Your Highnesses, I am a messenger from the village of Canfield. I have news of a woman named Chelsea from the other world.”
Chapter Sixteen
Chelsea heard the sound of multiple horses approaching, and tried to run outside but the couple stopped her. When they glanced out the windows, the woman screamed and Chelsea thought she’d die of fright.
The door burst open, and there stood Anne and Lawrence. The two guards that Chelsea recognized as the ones who had drugged her last night were right behind them.
She refused to show them fear. “The king knows you’re missing and where you were taking me. A messenger has already been sent to the castle. They’ll be here any minute. You have no chance of getting away with this.”
Anne smirked. “You’re a brave one, Miss, aren’t you? But you’re wrong about what the king knows. If he knew anything, he never would have put me and my husband in service to you and your dear princes.”
What?
“Shut up, you ignorant bitch,” muttered Lawrence, giving Anne a death glare.
Oh, so she wasn’t supposed to divulge that fact, was she?
“I don’t care if you’re married to your horse,” said Chelsea. “You need to give yourselves up or you’ll wind up dead.”
“No,” said Lawrence, his grin so full of evil that a nasty shiver ran down Chelsea’s spine. “The only dead people in this house will very soon be you, and the people who were foolish enough to give you shelter. But first, I think me and these here guards will have some fun with you. Did you think we weren’t listening all those nights you and your princes were in one of their rooms? You enjoy a good hard fucking, don’t you, Miss? We’ll give that to you now.”
Chelsea screamed as Lawrence pulled a pistol out from inside his jacket and shot the woman who had given her clothing, food, and shelter in the chest. Then one of the guards shot her husband, and Chelsea fell to her knees, her hands over her mouth. They didn’t deserve to die. All they’d done was help her, like any villager loyal to their king would have done.
She glared at Lawrence, forcing herself to stand again and face him. “I will kill you myself for doing that. And you will not touch me! I belong to three princes!”
“You belong to no one way out here, Miss.”
As he advanced toward her, the smell of blood from the gaping holes in the couple reached her nostrils, and she retched. The movement allowed him to grab her around the waist, but Chelsea jabbed him with her elbow, connecting with his groin. He yelled and released his grip on her, so she ran for the back door.
She made it outside, but when she tried to run out into the street to call for help, the two guards intercepted her. One of them grabbed her and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She almost threw up from the wave of dizziness racing through her, but hung on long enough to punch him hard in the lower back, right over his left kidney.
He yelled in pain, but instead of simply releasing her, he threw her on the ground, and the force of landing on her back knocked the wind out of her. Once she recovered she tried to sit up, but he was on top of her. The other one had already taken his dick out of his breeches.
Her mind refused to believe this was possible. They were not going to rape her, right here in someone’s yard. She had been chosen by three princes. Who were these men that they had turned on their king this way?
Or were they citizens of Enfield?
Hot fear rose up in her, followed by bile, and she managed to turn her head to the side before she puked.
The guard jumped off her, swearing, and she would have laughed as she realized she’d vomited more on him more than on the ground, but she was so weak she couldn’t even hold her head up.
The sound of horses’ hooves reached her ears, and at first she thought it was the villagers, but then a familiar voice rang out just before more gunshots fired. She covered her ears and turned over because she was going to puke again.
* * * *
Roland was almost sick to his stomach at the sight of two guards, their cocks exposed, standing over Chelsea. He didn’t think. He merely drew his pistol and fired. He hit one, and as the other one fell, he glanced to his left. Archer had drawn his gun, too, and his face was red with anger. He’d never seen his friend so full of outrage, but he certainly couldn’t blame him.
Denver fired off a shot, and Lawrence dropped in his tracks. Two of the guards that had been riding with them were now on foot, chasing Anne across the front yard, and when they caught her she pulled a knife. Roland watched in disbelief as she cut the arm of one of the guards. She never had the chance to try for the other because he drew his pistol and shot her right in the head.
Roland dismounted and ran toward Chelsea, his heart overflowing with fear for her. If she was hurt, he’d ride to the Wastelands, find every one Lawrence’s family members, and kill them all, one by one. Slowly. No quick pistol shots for any of them. That was too merciful.
* * * *
Denver helped Roland carry Chelsea into the house. When they passed a couple who had both been shot, Chelsea began to cry. She mumbled incoherent words about tea, eggs, and shelter, and then she said something about Lawrence and Anne being married.
They laid her on the bed in the only bedroom, and asked the guards to remove the dead couple from the house and try to find out what had happened. Denver held her as she cried, while Roland found a wash cloth so they could clean the vomit off her.
When Archer came into the room, he told them that the couple was outside, and their neighbors were giving the guards accounts of Enfield spies having been wandering around the villages for weeks. “Is she okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Denver. “We need to get her to the castle.”
“I’ve sent a few of the guards to find a wagon we can borrow. She can’t ride like this.”
Denver told Archer that was a good idea, and then once they had procured a wagon, they helped her into the back of it and Denver crawled in with her. Archer and Roland rode with them, and they took a few guards along, but the rest stayed behind in Canfield to clean up the mess that Anne and Lawrence had caused.
When they returned to the castle, they’d tell their king everything. He would make things right in Canfield. But Denver’s first priority was making sure that Chelsea and her unborn child were okay.
* * * *
Archer sat next to Chelsea and held her as she described for Atheron and the Council what had happened from the time she’d woken up early this morning to when she’d thrown up the second time, just as Roland, Archer, and Denver rode into Canfield.
Coupled with what they had learned from the citizens of that village, there were more Enfield spies in the countryside than any of them had known. And Lawrence and Anne had already been married when Lawrence became Denver’s valet.
They had gone to the Wastelands two years ago, separately
, and been married there. They were sent back to the castle to pretend to be loyal to Ashdown, and to gather information for Enfield. It had been a stroke of luck that Anne had been chosen to become Chelsea’s maid.
As for Dalton’s personal journal, they only guessed that Archer had it because Lawrence had gone to Dalton’s room the evening of his execution to find it, knowing what was in it, and knowing how dangerous it would be to their cause should it fall into the wrong hands, but it had already been removed from the room.
The same healer that had told them Chelsea was with child was now still in the room, and had just finished looking over Chelsea. He proclaimed she was fine, but had then stressed how important it was to keep her well fed and hydrated.
Atheron’s servants were currently in the process of moving her belongings, along with those of Roland, Archer, and Denver to a suite closer to the king’s and queen’s. This way, Chelsea could be watched more closely. Roland, Archer, and Denver had agreed it was best for all of them.
“What happens now?” asked Archer.
“Our army is being dispersed to the villages,” said Atheron. “We will gather as many of the names in your brother’s journal as we can find, and try to keep any more of our citizens from being killed.”
“Will you invade Enfield?” asked Chelsea.
“That will be my last resort. I’m still hoping for a better solution.”
“Are we safe here in the meantime?”
Atheron smiled at her. “Yes. The castle has been swept clean of every Council member, guard, and servant who was spying for and loyal to Enfield.”
She glanced up into Archer’s face. “How many were there?”
He hesitated a second, but she was part of this now. She’d nearly been raped over it. She had a right to know. “Fifty-two.”
