Evermore (The Lost Princesses Book 1)

by Jody Hedlund

  Because of its secure position, King Draybane made Brechness his primary residence. He had several other castles throughout Norland where he dwelled from time to time. But I’d gained word from a passing vessel that the king was currently in Brechness, confirming my own knowledge of where I’d expected him to be.

  I inhaled the salty air and savored the mist rising up from the waves splashing against the bow. Even in early July, Brechness was cooler than most places due to its far northern location as well as the cold winds blowing in from the ocean.

  During our voyage, I’d expected to encounter any number of Ethelwulf’s ships that still roamed the East Sea preying on merchant vessels. After countless battles on both land and sea against Ethelwulf’s raiders, I’d been prepared to fight them as I had the past years of serving King Draybane.

  However, we’d had no trouble as we’d sailed, seeing only one of his ships from a distance. Now I was anxious to dock and set my feet on solid ground. Though I’d seen little of Adelaide over the past week of traveling, I had no doubt she was ready to land as well.

  Due to seasickness, she’d been confined to her berth most of the trip. Lady Sybil, the wife of one of the older noblemen accompanying us, had become one of her ladies-in-waiting and gave me frequent reports on Adelaide’s condition.

  I glanced starboard to the second ship. Many of the noblemen who’d joined us had brought their families to Norland fearing retribution from Ethelwulf once he learned they’d left with the queen. While some of the single young knights had opposed the additional passengers, Adelaide had insisted that any knight who fought for her would be allowed to protect his family in any manner he saw fit.

  Her continued compassion won the hearts of not only the noblemen but their wives and children. Many of the women vied to serve her, to become trusted ladies-in-waiting. Rather than picking the most beautiful and poised of the noblewomen to be her attendants, as was Mercia’s tradition, Adelaide chose the oldest, wisest, and most experienced at life.

  “My lord,” came Lady Sybil’s voice behind me.

  I spun to find the petite but graceful woman wearing court attire with her graying hair pulled up into an elegant knot. Her face was plain and marred by pockmarks from a childhood disease. But because Adelaide had proven she valued the woman’s inner beauty more than her outward, Lady Sybil had become a devoted servant for life.

  I bowed my head. “Lady Sybil, is the queen ready to disembark?”

  “She requests proper attire, my lord.”

  I smiled. “Then she is finally agreeing to put aside her armor when she meets King Draybane?”

  Lady Sybil returned my smile. She was my co-conspirator in my efforts to convince Adelaide to present herself like royalty rather than a knight for her visit to King Draybane’s court. “It has taken some persuading, my lord. But she sees the wisdom in it.”

  “Then she has relinquished her notion to participate in King Draybane’s tournament?” I’d made the mistake of mentioning I wanted to reach Brechness before the Summer Bounty Festival. The king of Norland always had a tournament to celebrate the occasion, and I knew the purse of gold he gave the winner would be helpful to our cause.

  “She has made no more mention of it.”

  “Excellent.” I exhaled another breath, this one of relief. Mitchell may have given in to her every whim to join in mock battles and jousting tournaments and other contests. But I was not my brother. And I would not allow Adelaide to partake in such activities, not even if I had to lock her away myself.

  At the thought of Mitchell, sadness gripped my heart. We had buried him over a fortnight ago on the same day we’d recovered him from Captain Theobald. Though we’d pursued the captain, we’d been too late. He and his remaining guards had ridden swiftly and had found security behind Delsworth gates before we could overtake them.

  Knowing our forces were yet too small for an offensive attack against Delsworth, Adelaide had agreed with her newly-formed council to withdraw from Mercia and join with the rebels already living in Norland.

  Her main concern was that Ethelwulf would no longer search for her, but instead would pursue and capture her sisters. If he couldn’t make her queen, then what was to stop him from forcing one of the other princesses into a marriage with his son? Or perhaps even use the other princesses to bait Adelaide back to Mercia to do his bidding?

  So far, we’d heard no word of Ethelwulf discovering the princesses, which meant Mitchell had most likely not revealed their locations to Captain Theobald. At least we prayed he hadn’t and that the twin princesses would remain safe until we could send men to secretively retrieve them—if we could find them in the places Sister Katherine had divulged to us.

  Lady Sybil steadied herself against the mast of the swaying ship. “The queen has agreed to the suggestion to have several new gowns created once we arrive at King Draybane’s castle. She says she will await her presentation to the king and court until she is properly attired.”

  “Thank you for exerting your womanly influence upon the queen, my lady.”

  Lady Sybil bowed and then retreated toward the cabin where Adelaide had confined herself. A deep longing cinched inside my gut. I wanted to follow Lady Sybil, enter Adelaide’s room, and gather her into my arms. I’d already done so once around the knights, the day Firmin had fallen onto Adelaide after saving her from Captain Theobald’s knife.

  As a reward for saving her life, Adelaide had given Firmin the position of captain of her elite guard. He and the other elite guards were aboard the second ship. After being in service to a cruel master, one who used fear to retain their loyalty, they’d eagerly pledged their lives and loyalty to Adelaide. They were slower to accept me and my commands. But at least they trusted and loved Adelaide.

  No one had mentioned my passionate embrace with Adelaide. Mayhap the noblemen wouldn’t be so bold as to ask me about the nature of my relationship with Adelaide. And mayhap they wouldn’t outright condemn me for being her closest friend and advisor. But I could sense the disapproval from some of the older noblemen, the ones who expected their queen would marry nothing less than royalty.

  I tried to cling to my resolve not to care what anyone else thought, but I also didn’t want to hurt her reputation or position in any way. Besides, I’d confessed my love for her, and she hadn’t responded. Granted, I’d picked a lousy time to tell her. Even so, she’d given me no more indication she reciprocated.

  Perhaps once she watched me in the tournament, once she saw me fight, I would win her favor and heart. Perhaps then we’d be able to talk openly about our relationship again.

  Even as I plotted how I might find more time with her, my sense of duty told me I had to let her go. If she didn’t love me and considered me nothing more than a passing infatuation, then I’d be wise to keep from stirring emotions where there should be none.

  Whatever the case, I had to inform King Draybane I couldn’t accept his offer of marriage to his daughter. I couldn’t marry one woman, no matter how favorable the match, when I was completely in love with someone else.

  Adelaide

  “This is the last measurement, Your Majesty,” Lady Sybil assured me.

  I stood on a stepstool at the center of the large chamber King Draybane had provided, wearing my simple linen undergarments. The dressmaker and her assistants seemed oblivious to my state of undress and had drawn up designs for new gowns, shifts, and nightgowns.

  With half the morning spent, I’d allowed Lady Sybil and my other ladies-in-waiting to assume I was merely anxious to be finished with the poking and prodding and preening. In truth, the jousting tournament had started, and I had to sneak away soon, or I’d miss my chance to participate.

  I understood why Christopher didn’t want me to joust. But I wasn’t in Norland to win a purse of gold. Rather, I was here to impress King Draybane and persuade him to loan us supplies for our war against King Ethelwulf. Since we had no treasure or coffers to draw from, at the very least, we needed his financial support.
At best, we hoped he’d be willing to lend us his army.

  Though I would put off my official appearance at court until I had an appropriate gown, I’d met the king last evening when we rowed ashore and climbed dozens of stairs. He’d been waiting for us in the gatehouse of his magnificent Brechness royal residence that graced the bluffs. A short, stout man with a round face made rounder by his full head of curly red hair, he greeted me with exclamations of how much I looked like my beautiful mother. Attired in the only garments I’d brought along—my men’s tunic and breeches covered by chain mail—he surely exaggerated my beauty. Nonetheless, I’d accepted his praise graciously.

  The king had enveloped Christopher in a fatherly hug and then proceeded to speak at length and with pride of Christopher’s many feats and daring deeds. With such high adulation, I’d finally understood why the king had offered Christopher his youngest daughter’s hand in marriage.

  I’d never begrudged praise to those who deserved it. But the king’s esteem of Christopher had kept me awake throughout the night. When dawn broke, I’d realized how weak and inconsequential I must seem in comparison to a skilled warrior and dynamic leader such as Christopher. If I’d been a man, would King Draybane offer Mercia his support more readily? If I’d been a man, would the rebels be willing to follow me for who I was and not merely because of Christopher’s leadership?

  I’d been praying for wisdom again and realized the joust would prove I was a strong woman, one equal to any man. The only problem was I had to make sure I didn’t face Christopher in any of the early rounds. He’d recognize Roland, brought ashore last night along with some of our other horses. Even with the caparison that covered the bay roan’s body and the chanfron protecting his head, I couldn’t take any chances.

  I’d given Firmin the task of secretly securing a nobleman’s name and place in the tournament. At dawn, my new captain of the guard had assured me he’d found a sick young nobleman, Lord Vaughn, who’d agreed to let a substitute ride in his stead using his name and coat of arms.

  “I thank you for your assistance,” I said to the dressmaker as she finally removed the last pinned sleeve from my arm. “You are most kind to willingly put aside all of your other projects to work on mine.”

  The woman curtsied and fumbled through a response before backing away. I didn’t have the means to pay for the gowns yet. But apparently, Christopher had amassed a significant fortune from his raids on Ethelwulf’s ships, and he’d commissioned the dressmaker on my behalf.

  Was my poverty one more weakness in King Draybane’s eyes? Perhaps I should have insisted on finding King Solomon’s treasure before leaving Mercia.

  I shook off the doubts. I was here in Norland, and now I would make the best of the situation. And I would do my utmost to show I was a worthy queen.

  Lady Sybil and the other noblewomen made a move to follow me to my private chamber, but I halted in the doorway. “I do not wish to be disturbed for the next two hours.”

  They bowed their heads in deference to my order. When Lady Sybil lifted hers, her keen eyes held questions. What she lacked in size, she more than made up for with her intelligence. It was one of the reasons I’d liked her. She had proven knowledgeable about many things, including all I’d needed to learn about court life not only in Mercia but also Norland. Additionally, she had a tactful and kind way of conveying information so I didn’t feel incompetent.

  I closed the door of my private chamber behind me and walked across the room past the richly canopied bed to the other exit. As I opened the door and found Firmin standing in the servants’ quarters, I let the tension ease from my muscles.

  “Your Majesty.” He held out a sack that contained my armor, hopefully freshly oiled and ready to don.

  I nodded my gratitude. “How much time do I have?”

  “Lord Vaughn is next.”

  “I shall need to get into my armor with all haste.” A thrill shot through me. It had been too long since I’d jousted. The last one had been at Lord Mortimer’s tournament before Aunt Susanna died.

  Much had changed in the passing months. This would be my first tournament without Mitchell. As I pictured his thin, aristocratic face, his warm brown eyes, and quirky grin, tears rose swiftly. We’d made a good team. And I would miss conspiring with him.

  I blinked back the moisture and straightened my shoulders. “This tournament is for you, Mitchell,” I whispered. “In honor of your memory. May it live on forever.”

  Chapter

  23

  Adelaide

  My breath was hot inside the great helm, and rivulets of sweat ran down my forehead into my eyes. I blinked away the perspiration and attempted to calm my anxious thoughts and settle my nerves.

  Beneath me, Roland whinnied, sensing my unease.

  After three days of jousting as Lord Vaughn, I’d reached the final competition. To escape from my chambers, I deceived Lady Sybil and the other ladies-in-waiting on several occasions. I’d been late to one of my jousts because of another dress fitting. And my return had been delayed so that I’d neglected to wipe the dust and sweat from my face before greeting the ladies.

  I had the feeling Lady Sybil had figured out what I was doing and where I was going. To my surprise, she hadn’t said anything to me. More importantly, she hadn’t notified Christopher, though I was fairly certain she reported to him daily.

  I was relieved Christopher had been eliminated from the tournament in the last course. Otherwise, I would have been jousting against him in the finals, something I wasn’t sure I could have done. Likewise, he’d never knowingly fight against me.

  I cannot bear to lose the woman I love.

  His declaration came rushing back as it oft did. Even though he’d made no mention of his love again, even though he’d likely only spoken the words because he’d been in a state of panic, and even though he hadn’t acted upon the words and probably never would, I still savored them. Much more than I ought to.

  Firmin had coated Roland with charcoal to turn him into a black horse. In spite of the disguise, I feared Christopher, who would be standing alongside the list with some of the other knights, would see through my charade and stop me. I could only pray I had the chance to show a little of my strength and prowess before he unmasked me.

  “Are you ready, my lord?” the squire asked as he placed the oak lance in my gauntlet glove. While I’d wanted Firmin to be at my side, I’d realized such a move would cause suspicion. Instead, I’d used Lord Vaughn’s squire.

  I gripped the weapon and nodded, refraining from speaking so he wouldn’t hear my voice. The squire knew I wasn’t his master, but I’d disguised my true identity. I hadn’t wanted my gender to interfere with his devotion to me, which had increased with every battle I’d won. He’d taken extra care to make sure my horse was well shod and outfitted, my weapons readied, and my armor in perfect condition.

  Even now, I sensed his awe and respect for my skills.

  With my spurs jangling and Roland’s armor clanking, I rode to my end of the list just as my opponent did the same. At the sight of us, the crowds broke into exuberant cheering and whistling.

  Out of my narrow eye slit, I caught a glimpse of the king and queen and their courtiers seated within the royal pavilion at the center of the corded off field. Several other smaller, yet no less elaborate, pavilions provided seating for the nobility. No one expected the queen of Mercia to be in attendance since tonight I was due to make my first grand appearance at the ball the king of Norland was holding in my honor. One of my new gowns was finally complete, and I needed to return to my chambers with all haste to allow Lady Sybil and the others to begin preparations for the big evening.

  I could sense the gazes of the other knights upon me and my opponent, sizing us up, likely placing wagers on which of us would win. I guessed Christopher was doing the same, and although I was tempted to glance in his direction, I forced myself to stare straight ahead. I didn’t want him recognizing me before the first round began and chance his
interfering with the competition.

  Instead, I focused on my rival and whispered a prayer: “God, You know what I have longed for—a discerning heart to govern the people and distinguish right from wrong. I have not asked for wealth or strength, only wisdom. May You grant that wisdom today.”

  As my opponent lifted his lance high into the air, I did likewise to signal my readiness. Then I couched my lance into my armpit and prepared for the ride.

  A bugle call silenced the crowds and was our signal to begin the joust. Roland lowered his head and moved forward with a fluidness I loved. I bent into him, giving in to the oneness I felt with him during these moments. His pace quickened, and I focused on his rhythm, making it my own.

  I trained my sights on my challenger’s cuirass, the part of his armor above his heart. I secured my lance and urged Roland to move faster. From the steadiness of my rival’s charge coupled with the bulk of his frame, I guessed I required more speed if I had any chance of winning.

  My breath quickened, and I braced myself for impact. With his long arms, my opponent’s lance hit my chest first. In the moment of his collision, I thrust hard against him, letting Roland’s speed provide the momentum I needed.

  Splinters flew into the air even as I jolted backward. My head snapped, my bones jarred, and my teeth rattled. I felt myself slipping to one side of my saddle. As if sensing my dilemma, Roland swayed in the opposite direction, which gave me the ability to right myself upon my saddle.

  By the time I reached the end of the list, I was firmly in place, the reins gripped tightly in my hand. Only then did I turn and notice that my opponent and I had both split our lances and yet had remained upon our steeds, which meant we were tied.

  Out of my eye slit, I caught sight of my squire racing toward me with a fresh lance. At the same time, I detected a commotion among the knights along the side of the list. “No!” one of them was shouting. “Do not give her the lance.”