Evermore (The Lost Princesses Book 1)

by Jody Hedlund

Her fingers gripped mine with an almost bruising quality. “You must vow it.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to disappoint this dear woman. She obviously had the hope I would do something—perhaps rise up and become a ruler. She’d likely harbored such a hope all the years she’d taken care of me.

  Even if I was one of the lost princesses, how would I rise up? I was only a young woman, alone except for Mitchell. What difference could the two of us possibly make?

  Aunt Susanna lifted my hand to her lips and placed a kiss there. “Please,” she whispered faintly, “Your Majesty.”

  Her address pierced my chest as surely as the blade of a dagger. The term Majesty was only used when speaking with a king or queen. No longer did she see me as her niece, or even a princess. She was acknowledging me as her ruler, her queen.

  I wanted to shake my head, turn back time, and return to the way things had always been. But as I peered into her eyes, overflowing with love, I couldn’t deny her. I loved and respected her too much. Maybe I couldn’t promise to assert myself and be a ruler. Yet I could vow to serve God, couldn’t I?

  It was my turn to kiss her hand three times.

  The moment I finished, her lashes fell. Her fingers in mine grew limp. And she released a long breath as though her job was finished.

  I lowered her arm to the bed and waited for her to inhale, for the rise and fall of her chest. But with each passing second of stillness, panic crept into my veins.

  I squeezed her hand, but it was lifeless. I shook her by the arm, but she refused to draw a breath.

  “Mitchell!” I cried out. “We must do something to save her!” Even as the words echoed sharply in the silent room, my mind comprehended what my heart would not.

  She was dead.

  Chapter

  3

  Christopher

  I reined in my steed on the crest that overlooked Kentworth Castle. My breath stuck in my chest at the sight of the majestic fortress made of local red sandstone. Its outer bailey wall was thick and crowned with numerous buttresses and towers at strategic locations. The great keep beyond the inner bailey rose tall and stately with enormous corner turrets.

  Home.

  The sight never failed to move me.

  For early June, the land was vibrant against the cloudless blue sky overhead. I inhaled the sweet scent of the bright pink field roses that grew in abandon in the lush meadows. The cadence of locusts rubbing their wings and the hum of bees brought back memories of my childhood, of running the hills barefoot with my kin, swinging our blunt wooden swords, pretending to slay dragons and defending our land from evil.

  How young and naïve we’d been. How little we’d known about the real world and the real evils. And how ignorant we’d been about regret and what a powerful force it could be.

  I swallowed the bitterness at the back of my throat. After a fortnight of secretive travel across Norland, as well as through the Highlands and Iron Hills, I was ready for a hot meal and warm bath. Yet now that Kentworth was in sight, my reins slackened. I couldn’t make myself urge my steed forward.

  As the oldest living son, the castle and land should have belonged to me when Father died. I should have inherited all that belonged to him, including the title of earl. But by leaving Mercia to serve under King Draybane of Norland, I’d made myself an enemy of Ethelwulf.

  Most of the time, I convinced myself the sacrifice had been worth it. But now, with the beauty of my boyhood home spread out before me with all its memories, I couldn’t keep the regrets at bay . . . especially knowing Mother was dead and that I’d missed saying good-bye, just as I’d missing saying good-bye to Father.

  The ache in my chest expanded and pulsed down my arms to my fingers.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d come. By the time Tall John’s missive regarding Mother’s death had reached my post in Norland, her funeral had passed. Nevertheless, I’d petitioned King Draybane for leave so I could return home.

  Why? To check on the Langley holdings? To assure myself all was well with my brother and Adelaide?

  If I was honest, I knew the real reason I’d come was to sever the bond with my past. It was time to officially sign over to Mitchell the earldom and relinquish the grasp of my old life. Perhaps in my deepest of hearts I’d harbored hope I could someday return and live at home again and assume my father’s role in ruling his lands. But I needed to admit that would never happen. Not as long as Ethelwulf was on Mercia’s throne.

  A distant falcon in the sky drew my attention. It soared effortlessly, its long, smoky wings framing a bare chest. With its dark hood and cape, I recognized it as a peregrine and guessed either Mitchell or Adelaide was hunting. Or perhaps both.

  I veered my steed in the direction of the falcon but then hesitated. How would they feel upon seeing me? Would they loathe me for my absence during Mother’s suffering? Or would they open their arms in welcome?

  As the peregrine swooped and began plunging downward at a steep angle, I urged my mount down the hill. Although the huntsman wasn’t visible, I’d hunted with my siblings oft enough to know they were likely awaiting the falcon’s return by Finham Brook.

  The bird dove out of my vision but then flapped upward a short while later with a small hare in its talons.

  “Adelaide,” I said aloud, unable to contain my proud grin. Only my little cousin had worked hard to train her falcon to catch more than small fowl. Mitchell hadn’t had the patience for the extra work.

  My excitement mounted as I drew near the brook, but I pulled up short in surprise when I arrived and no one was there. I slid from my horse and bent to examine hoofprints in the mud along the marshy bank. Two horses. The tracks were fresh and told of a hasty departure away from the brook into the woodland.

  On foot, I led my steed, following the easy trail. Had the hunters rushed off after a new prey? I trailed the two horses a hundred paces into the woodland before the prints disappeared. I frowned and studied the thick hardwoods and leafy shrubs for any sign of the hunters. But I could see nothing—no faint prints, snapped twigs, crushed leaves, or broken blades of grass.

  How could two horses simply vanish?

  I released my horse’s reins and crouched. Pushing aside a thin layer of windfall, I once more caught a glimpse of the tracks. In that instant, I realized I’d lowered my guard. My mare whinnied a soft warning. But before I could rise, a blade bit into the tender unprotected skin at my throat.

  I froze. And I calculated as much information as I could. The arm encircling my chain mail hood was slender of build. The leather falcon glove was not overly large. And the boot that was just in my vision was small too.

  I could easily overcome this foe. But what of the other man? Where was he?

  The cracking of branches to the rear of my captor gave me my answer. The weight of his footsteps told me the man was much larger but was still several paces away. I had to act now if I had any attempt at getting away.

  I clasped the hand holding the blade against my throat and jerked hard, intending to flip the man over my shoulder to land in front of me. Before I could complete the move, he swiftly pressed a second dagger into my back thigh below my chain mail hauberk. The cutting edge pierced through my hose, forcing me to stand motionless once again.

  I held my breath, my mind scrambling for a new plan. My opponent might be small but was apparently well trained. With the dagger firmly in place again at my throat and at my thigh, I couldn’t move without drawing blood, and my captor knew it.

  “Who are you and what is your business?” came a commanding but distinctly feminine voice.

  Chagrin burned in my chest. Had a woman bested me?

  “Why are you on Langley land?”

  The demanding tone sounded vaguely familiar. “Adelaide?” I asked. “Is that you?”

  The knife faltered, and I realized at once it was my cousin. I took advantage of the brief lag in her attentiveness, jabbed the weapon from her hand at my throat, and swung around in a swift kick, knocking her feet fr
om the ground so that she landed on her back. I rapidly stepped on her wrist and dislodged the other dagger.

  My behavior was inappropriate toward a girl—that I knew. But this was Adelaide. I’d always treated her and Mitchell the same. And since she’d been the one to initiate the attack, surely a little wrestling in return would do no harm.

  Before I could say anything or shove the dagger out of her reach, she kicked her legs around and slammed them into the back of my knees directly into the reflexive weak spot so that I buckled. My hold on her wrist fell away. In that small second, she retrieved her dagger and thrust it at my throat before my knees could hit the forest floor.

  This time she yanked off my chain mail hood, grabbed the short plait of my hair at the back of my neck, and used it to twist my head, giving me no choice but to look at her. I found myself peering up into a face shadowed by a deep hood. Even so, I immediately recognized her eyes, which were the color of moorland sky at eventide. The blue was prettier than I remembered.

  “How are you, cousin?” I gave her what I hoped was my most charming grin.

  Her eyes narrowed, and the knife remained at my throat. She examined me, taking in the fortnights’ worth of dark stubble covering my chin and jaw, the grit lining the grooves of my face, and the strands of my dark hair that had come loose since I’d last tied it back.

  “It is I, Christopher,” I clarified lest she try to harm me further. She would put up a good fight, as she had already, but I could disarm her and bring her into submission eventually.

  Slowly, she released her hold at my neck and dropped the blade. I rubbed at the nick and came away with blood on my glove.

  Behind Adelaide stood Tall John, my father’s faithful steward. The falcon was perched on his arm, and a full sack lay slung across his back, likely the kill the bird had brought them. The old steward was still as thin as a sapling, with overlong arms and legs. From beneath his coif, strands of his hair had begun to turn brown-gray, the color of a winter woodland. But his eyes were unchanged, kind and alert. And at the sight of me, they filled with recognition.

  “I see you are already planning a feast for my arrival,” I said, turning back to Adelaide. “I hope you have at least one grouse in the lot. My mouth is watering in anticipation of a roasted leg.”

  Adelaide didn’t respond to my mirth. Instead, she relieved Tall John of the sack. Then, with quick, nimble steps, she started away from me.

  Tall John crossed to me, bowed, and extended a hand to help me to my feet. “It is good to see you, my lord.”

  “It is good to see you too.” I squeezed his hand at his welcome. I probably deserved a rebuff from him too. But thankfully, he was extending grace. “My gratitude for sending me word regarding Mother’s passing.”

  He bowed his head. “You have just arrived, my lord?”

  “Yes, just.” My gaze trailed Adelaide. “Is Mitchell hunting with you?”

  “He’s away to Delsworth for a fortnight.”

  “And he left Adelaide home alone?”

  “She’s old enough to fend for herself, as you can attest.”

  I tried to assess her more carefully, but her long cloak prevented me from seeing anything but her outline. When I’d left, she’d been but a wisp of a girl. She couldn’t be grown up already, could she?

  I jogged after her, easily catching up. “Adelaide.”

  She lengthened her stride. The horses were ahead, tied to a maple. If I didn’t stop her now before she reached her horse, I would lose this opportunity to speak with her privately. I grabbed her arm and spun her around, giving her no choice but to face me. In the same motion, I threw back her hood so I could see her clearly.

  Standing before me was not the girl I’d once known and played with. Instead, a stunningly beautiful woman met my gaze with her chin lifted and eyes blazing. I took a step back, though why I was surprised, I knew not. I should have expected maturity in her appearance.

  She scowled at me, but nothing, not even a frown, could mar her loveliness. In fact, if anything, the liveliness of her anger lit her expression and exposed the high cheekbones that curved into a dainty chin. Her nose was narrower and more elegant than I’d remembered and her lips most definitely fuller.

  “Do I meet your approval?” she asked, her tone cool and edged with steel.

  I finished appraising her, noting the color of her hair remained unchanged. She’d pulled it back into a braid, but loose wisps framed her face—golden, like a fine, pale palomino, but thicker and luxurious in a way it had never been as a young girl.

  “I hardly recognize you.”

  “That is what happens when you abandon your family for so long.”

  Her sharp words pierced me. So she was angry at me, not just for missing my mother’s funeral but much more.

  I wished I could apologize for leaving Langley. But I’d gone over that agonizing day a hundred times. Each time I’d concluded I’d had no choice but to follow my conscience. Father might have been able to make a deal with the devil and pledge his loyalty to Ethelwulf, but I never would. I’d rather die than sell my soul.

  Even so, I regretted arguing with Father. I’d flung heated declarations at him that had been borne of my immaturity. I’d said many things I wish I could retract. But it was too late. He was gone, and the words would forever remain imbedded in my memory.

  And apparently in Adelaide’s.

  “I am sorry about Mother,” I offered, somehow needing to bridge this gap with her. “I came as soon as I received the news. I only wish I had known she was ill so I could have come sooner.”

  “Would you truly have come sooner, Christopher?” Again her tone cut me to the quick.

  “Then you think so little of me to imagine I would not try to help Mother in her time of need.”

  She met my gaze frankly. The turmoil in the depths of her wide-open blue eyes reached inside and wrenched my heart in a tight grip. “Why are you here, my lord?”

  I considered telling her I had come to offer my condolences. But I could see that not only had she grown into a beautiful woman but an intelligent one as well. I sensed she would see past any excuse I offered, that I might as well tell her the truth. “I am here to sever my rights to Kentworth once and for all.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes. And perhaps disappointment. Was she disillusioned with me and with whom I’d become? At times I was disappointed in myself—that I had not been the kind of son, brother, or cousin my family had wanted. Even now, I was not the type of man Adelaide could respect and admire.

  However, like everything else I’d given up, I would have to sacrifice her admiration in order to maintain integrity and honor. For without either, how could I live with myself? In the meantime, while I was home, I could do my best to repair the relationship with my cousin, could I not? Mayhap, by the time I left, we would at least be friends again. I could strive after that.

  “Since you have come to see Mitchell,” she said at last, striding again toward her horse, “you will be indisposed awaiting his arrival home. Whatever will you do having to tarry three days this time instead of one?”

  Her sharp jab was well aimed. But my remorse at her verbal sparring waned. Instead, frustration slipped in to replace it. Adelaide had always been stubborn and willful. Clearly, she was more so now that she was full grown.

  I stalked after her. If she’d been a child, I would have thrashed her for her disrespect. After all, I was her elder and superior. And I was still the Earl of Langley, at least until Mitchell returned home.

  When she reached her mare, she stood with her back to me tying the sack of game to her saddle. Her motions were swift and sharp, her back as stiff as a pike.

  I was tempted to whip her around and demand that she look at me, that she try to understand my perspective. But the truth was I loved my cousin too much to command her affection. I wanted it of her own volition. I wanted her to look at me with the adoration and devotion that had always been present when we’d been younger. For as far back as I coul
d remember, Adelaide had respected me and even attempted to be like me, much the same way Mitchell had. I had already lost Mitchell’s affection, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Adelaide’s now as well.

  Though we were no longer children at play and much had happened over the years to change us, I wished for the uncomplicated innocence of those days when she—and Mitchell—still regarded me as someone to admire rather than loathe.

  I laid a hand on her shoulder. “Adelaide, please.” My voice was soft and pleading. “I see I have hurt you. And it pains me greatly. I beg your forgiveness so I might regain your love.”

  Her fingers stilled against the strings of her bag. After a moment, she lowered her head and her shoulders slackened. I lifted my hand and combed back wayward strands of her hair the breeze had teased free. They were like the finest silk against my callused fingers, and I couldn’t keep from brushing them again.

  She leaned into my hand.

  Slowly, gently, I turned her. She didn’t resist. And when I pulled her into my embrace, she relaxed, letting herself fall against me. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her close. With the solidness and warmth of her against me, I pressed my face into her head and breathed her in. Everything about her reminded me of my boyhood, of home, of my parents, of the life I’d once had here.

  “Oh, Adelaide,” I murmured. “How I have missed home.”

  At my admission, she slid her arms around my torso and returned my embrace. My chest constricted with the regrets and sorrows I’d privately nursed these past years. I nuzzled my nose into her hair and let myself imagine for just a moment she was Mother, that Mother was hugging me and forgiving me too.

  After a moment, I pressed a kiss against her brow and pulled back without fully releasing her to examine her expression and to ensure myself she was indeed willing to forgive me. This time, when she peered up at me, the haughtiness was gone. Vulnerability softened her features. Sadness filled her eyes, darkening them. I knew she, too, was thinking about Mother, that her grief was still deep.