Arranged: An Array Novel (Book #1)

by Hazel Grace

∞∞∞

  “I need you to go,” an unfamiliar voice grated. It sounded hazy and far away, but I couldn’t open my eyes, overcast with drowsiness. “She may die, and I won’t have you hovering over her like a damn lovesick dog.”

  “And I’m just supposed to trust you?” Sam snapped.

  Discomfort shot through me as large hands grasped my left arm. I groaned, silencing the voice for a moment. The hand squeezed gently, traveled down to my elbow, and rubbed it, as if trying to comfort me.

  “Sam, we need to let the doctor do his work,” Ben insisted.

  “She is in pain! I won’t leave her like this. Especially with someone who says he is the king’s son,” Sam replied sharply.

  George?

  “I’ll throw you out by your ass if you don’t get the hell out of here,” the stranger stated harshly.

  “C’mon, Sam,” Ben implored.

  “I’ll be back, Ava,” I heard Sam say close to my ear.

  I wanted to answer him, to tell him that I was fine, but my body wasn’t responsive. The soft caresses didn’t stop along my forearm as I heard a door close. And before I could focus on who was with me, the darkness took over again.

  ∞∞∞

  Tink. Tink. Tink. The sound of water hitting metal brought me out of the weary blackness. Opening my eyes was a challenge all on its own; like weights had been placed on my face. My neck and shoulders were stiff, like my body hadn’t moved in years. As soon as my eyes complied with opening, I saw candlelight dancing over a wooden ceiling. I squinted. This wasn’t my bedroom; mine had a water spot in the center by a beam. Save for the methodical drip, drip, drip, my surroundings were deathly silent.

  Easing my head to my left, soreness greeted me. My hand immediately went to my shoulder, a white bandage coiled around my shoulder and chest.

  So, the arrow wasn’t a dream.

  A small red dot stained the bandage, and I flexed my fingers and toes to see how much injury I was afflicted with.

  Not too bad.

  A clank sounded in the room, and I moved my head carefully, my eyes locking onto a man with broad shoulders hunched over a small table. Playing with a deck of cards, the light from the fireplace flickered over what looked like dark hair and a square chin. He appeared to be a younger man.

  I bit my lip, wanting to ask him where Sam and Ben were, but not knowing yet if he was a friend or foe. I’d never seen him before, so I kept my mouth shut. He could possibly be my lookout to keep me from escaping. With my injury, I wasn’t going to go anywhere fast.

  Bide my time, build my strength, then make an escape.

  As though he read my mind, the man’s eyes fastened on mine, and he smiled. “You’re awake.” He pushed his chair back, and my body seized with fear as he approached. He was burly beneath his white shirt. Placing a candle on the nearby table, he sat beside me on a small chair.

  “How do you feel?” His voice was deep, yet soft.

  I struggled to find my own voice for a moment.

  “Like a stampede of horses trampled on me,” I replied softly. He leaned toward the floor and picked up a black bottle.

  “I need to put this on your forehead,” he advised. He raised a brow. “Do you mind?”

  “What is it for?”

  He pointed at my head. “The nasty cut on your forehead.” Not waiting for my permission, he applied the substance, which instantly made my skin burn. I hissed, and he winced. “I’m sorry, my Lady. I wouldn’t do it unless the doctor insisted. Though, I’m starting to question if he was really a doctor.”

  “I am too,” I seethed through clenched teeth. He gave me a small smile as he screwed the cap back on the bottle, then stood.

  “You must be thirsty,” he said, making his way back to the table. As he dipped a wooden mug into a bucket of water, my mind pleaded with my mouth to ask him where Sam, Ben, and Charlie were. Creaking of wood panels announced the stranger coming back, and I peered back at him. Setting down the mug on the small table next to my cot, he held out his large hand for me to take.

  “I promise I won’t bite,” he told me with a grin. I complied as he placed his other palm behind my back, slowly pulling me into a sitting position. Releasing the hand that held mine, he pulled the covers over me. Noticing my clothes for the first time, I saw I was dressed in a man’s shirt.

  “It was all we had,” he informed me. “It’s mine; your gown was soaked with blood. I have some pants and socks for you as well.”

  He handed over the water; the cool liquid felt wonderful against my dry lips and parched mouth. My eyes closed, as I promised never to take water for granted again.

  “Drink it slowly,” he instructed.

  The man walked over to the fireplace and quickly came back holding a steaming bowl and bread. Sitting back in the chair across from me, he watched me take another sip of water. His eyes looked icy blue and his skin was dark, like copper.

  “Better?” he questioned.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said, handing him back the cup.

  “Hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Doc said you should eat something when you wake up,” he insisted.

  “I’m never hungry when I first wake up,” I told him. I didn’t want food; I wanted answers. Answers I was too afraid to know.

  He shrugged and crossed his arms. “Fair enough.”

  I swallowed, my throat still dry. “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  I raised a brow. “A friend is someone I know.”

  “Edward said you were smart,” he noted.

  “Where are Sam and Ben?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Outside. I sent the younger one to sleep with my men out there. He wouldn’t stop pacing the floor and bothering the doctor.”

  “So, you work for the king. King Edward?”

  “I do.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Prove it.”

  He briefly chuckled. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

  “I want to see them,” I ordered.

  “All right.” Walking over to the door, he called for a “John,” said a few words, and returned to me. “Better?”

  “Not yet. Where is Charlie? And Mrs. Reynolds and the children?”

  He furrowed his brows. “Who?”

  “They were all at the orphanage. Was anyone else killed?”

  “I was told only five people perished. Some guards were injured but they will be fine.”

  “Could you find out for me? The five that died, and those injured?” I pleaded.

  “Of course I will.” He looked at me a moment longer, went to the door to speak with John again, then returned to me. “All set. I will hear something back soon.”

  I gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  “You are safe,” he assured me. “I promise no harm will come to you.” I wouldn’t believe him until I saw Sam and Ben walking around freely. “Are you up for a game of cards?” He held up the deck.

  “I think I can muddle through it.”

  He slid over a stool in front of my cot and started to shuffle. “I must warn you, though, I am good.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” I played cards with the Harris brothers all the time, often walking away with the majority of little trinkets and coins we’d gamble with. “How did you find us?”

  He shifted in his chair and placed the deck down. “I was tracking the men who were following you, and saw the three of you in the distance. So, my men and I pursued.”

  “So you were the ones I heard screaming behind us?”

  He shook his head. “No. Those were…the men trying to kill you.”

  Trying to kill you.

  I swallowed. “Kill me?”

  He nodded.

  “So, you saved us?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Sam and Ben? They are safe?”

  He handed me the stack of cards. “Yes. No slipping cards in your blanket now.”

  “I pride myself on my ability, sir,” I coun
tered, looking up at him from the cards. “It takes a special skill to win fairly.”

  His lips quirked up in a grin, and he crossed his arms. “And what shall we play for?”

  Before I got to answer, the door slammed open, causing me to jump. Discomfort shot though my shoulder, and I looked over to see Sam staring at me, as if I were some risen ghost.

  “Sam!” I bellowed in relief.

  “You’re up,” he stated. Before I could tell him to relax, Ben entered.

  “A!” he exclaimed, pushing Sam out of his way. He quickly walked over and examined me. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine; a little sore,” I replied.

  “I’m so happy you are awake,” Sam replied. “You were unconscious for four days. The doctor said—”

  “Four days?” I interrupted, and Sam nodded. “Holy sh—”

  “He was pacing outside the damn door for all four of them,” the stranger grumbled.

  Sam glared at him. “Ah, yes. I see you’ve had the misfortune of meeting the King’s bastard, Lord Garrett Cranfield.”

  I slowly looked back at the stranger.

  George’s oldest brother.

  I watched both men exchange haughty frowns, like children, as the idea sauntered through my head.

  The man who saved my life was my fake fiancé’s brother.

  Ava

  Chapter 1

  Bampshire, Telliva

  “Papa!” I called. Seated at his massive oak desk, I looked over the inventory reports and bills I’d received this morning. I cringed inwardly at the amount of paper I had to review as I sipped my coffee. Papa’s trading business, Barlow’s Barters, had been booming so rapidly lately that I was certain we’d need more help.

  Papa walked through the study door, carrying a sandwich in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. He was chewing and grinning at me as he took a seat in one of the empty chairs before me, making it squeak.

  “I see you’ve been sweet talking Mrs. Reynolds...again,” I said, quirking a brow.

  “That woman is a marvel in the kitchen,” Papa replied with a chuckle. “She will bring you lunch in a moment.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, frowning down at the paper I held. “Papa, a trader from Corteneza is charging us way too much on sugarcane; it’s preposterous. We can find someone in Burkmore, or at least someone else in Corteneza.”

  “We’ve been dealing with them for nearly two years, Ava. I can’t break long-term relationships so suddenly.” He took another bite of his sandwich.

  “Then we renegotiate. This is a competitive business.”

  He nodded. “As you wish, my dear. Draw up new terms, and we’ll skim through them together.”

  “I’ll also consider some other traders, just as a back-up,” I added.

  He raised his glass. “You never go without a back-up, my dear, in anything.”

  I nodded. Papa was right. After being sent to the orphanage without a say, I had a need to control what I could.

  Our butler entered the room, carrying a large box. “Lady Ava, the item you requested from the attic.”

  “Wonderful, thank you, Brooks,” I replied, moving papers aside for him to set it down.

  “Would there be anything else, my Lady?” Brooks drawled in a monotone voice.

  I shook my head. “No, that’ll be it, thank you.”

  Wiping the box of dust, I sighed. It had been three years since I'd been detained in the orphanage, and despite spending four years there, everything from that time was right before me, wrapped in worn cardboard and years of dust. Mixed memories filled this box, happy and glum; the doleful ones were the reason I hid them away in the attic. I didn’t want to reminisce and needed closure.

  “Why did you have the box brought down, my dear?” Papa asked.

  “Henry and Sarah asked me to bring some of the stories I wrote for them today,” I replied.

  I’d seen to it the twelve children from the orphanage came with me to Bampshire. They lived in a newly-furnished orphanage, thanks to Papa’s pocketbook, where I could appraise their well-being and schooling. The idea of deserting them had made me anxious when I was sent back home.

  “Tell the little lads I’ll bring them fishing next week if they have a mind to go,” Papa commented.

  I skimmed through stacks of miscellaneous papers and peered up at him. “Then you better be ready because you already know they’ll all have a mind to go.” I laughed, returning my focus to my belongings. Old stories, drawings of stick people with families. I smiled as every single one brought back a recollection of each child. Each one so unique, each one wanting something different.

  Opening up another piece of paper, I stiffened. Waves of nostalgia filtered through my memory, and I reclined in the chair. I’d read and studied this letter so many times, I knew it by heart. The message sent me into despair and confusion. I reread it like it was the first time I’d seen it.

  Lady Ava,

  This letter is to inform you that the agreed terms of our engagement have been annulled. You may return home to live your life as you please. Best wishes.

  Sincerely,

  His Royal Highness, George Brandon

  While the world saw our engagement, George and I had a confidence of our own. We’d arranged to break our betrothal when I turned eighteen, to save us both. Our agreement had protected me from a loveless and selfish marriage, and George from the opportunist, Lady Natalie Dawson, who was fourteen years his senior.

  I glanced up and provided a weak smile. “I found George’s letter.”

  Papa sat quietly for a moment, setting down his plate. “You kept it?” I nodded, folding the letter back up. “He didn’t do it to hurt your feelings,” Papa assured me. “It was to keep you from harm.”

  I know why he created the note, but it didn’t make the soreness of my emotions go away. The foreign way George spoke to me in that letter had taken me aback. It was as though I’d imagined it all.

  “I know now, Papa,” I replied.

  Papa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yet you still look rattled from it, three years later.”

  “No.”

  “You are; it’s written all over your face,” Papa indicated.

  I brought a hand to my cheek, as if it would wipe away any inkling that Papa was right. I had every right to be rattled by it. My best friend hadn’t contacted me for seven years, save for this letter.

  “Papa, I’m fine,” I said firmly. “I promise. It’s not as though I haven’t any friends here.” I stood up, keeping a few stories on the desk and closing the box. “And speaking of friends, Eve is meeting me at the orphanage, so I must be off. Please tell Mrs. Reynolds there’s no need to bring me lunch.” I rounded the desk and placed a small kiss on Papa’s shiny head. “See you at dinner.”

  I walked toward the door, then immediately turned around when I realized that I’d forgotten the stories. Reaching over Papa, I retrieved them and planted another kiss on his head.

  “Have a good day, Papa!” I called, walking out into the foyer. Taking my lavender shawl off the coat rack, I wrapped it snug around my shoulders. I put the stories in my dress pocket and made for the door.

  Warm spring air brushed my skin as I hopped down the four steps to the sideway. The familiar sounds of birds singing and wheels rattling off cobblestone streets filtered through the breeze. I put my hand in my dress pocket, feeling for the crisp edges of the letter; the one from George. It may have brought back sour memories, but it created some comfort for me because it was still the last piece of him I had left.

  ∞∞∞

  “He does it on purpose, Ava,” Eve growled as we left the orphanage. “He tries to vex me every chance he gets. When I say ‘draw,’ he makes paper swans. When I say ‘Henry, we need to read,’ he pretends to forget the words. Are you sure you didn’t mean to leave him back at the other orphanage?”

  I let out a soft gasp, placing my hand on my chest. “Why, Evelyn Pratt, that is the meanest
thing I’ve ever heard you say!”

  Eve raised a brow and rolled her eyes. “Don’t over-exaggerate, first of all. Secondly, that’s not the meanest thing you’ve heard me say. Why, I remember saying, just last week, that Lady Josephine better start glancing in a mirror from time to time, lest men identify her as a man with that mustache she’s displaying.”

  I burst into fits of laughter and held my stomach to try and control them.

  “You’re truly horrible,” I told her. “When Henry acts up, he wants attention. That means he likes you.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “He makes me feel blessed that I am an only child.”

  We passed the only bakery in town and my stomach growled, making me regret not eating lunch.

  “I appreciate you coming with me,” I said. “The girls love you. Harriet loves when you sing to her, and Sarah says she wants to be you when she grows up.” I noticed Eve smile. “I couldn’t teach them all by myself, so thank you.”

  Eve patted me on the back. “No, thank Femme Fatale for me, because she gave me the patience to deal with the little…darlings.”

  I chuckled. “Oh yes, I thank my lucky constellations for you every day, Eve. Who else would have taught me how to summon a man with a fan?”

  “You’re an ungrateful brat, Ava Barlow,” Eve grumbled with a smirk. “I heard that Madame Gray’s boutique has new colored fabric and patterns. I think we should stop there first.”

  I groaned. “So she can charge us a horse and carriage for something we could easily buy at Mr. Ryan’s shop?”

  “She makes sophisticated gowns and lingerie for ladies of our—”

  “Just because her name has ‘Madame’ in front of it,” I interrupted, “doesn’t mean her dresses are exclusive. They are expensive.”

  Eve huffed and pushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Fine, we’ll go to Mr. Ryan’s.” She scoffed. “But I warn you, I will complain the whole time if he doesn’t have what I need.”

  “Who are you trying to impress so much?” I probed. If Eve were interested in someone of the opposite sex, it would be a miracle. She was beyond the word picky.

  “Sadly, none,” she admitted. “Every man in Bampshire is an absolute bore.” She hushed and tugged on my sleeve. “Speaking of a bore, but a handsome one, look who’s coming our way.”