Island in the Forest

by Jeanne Hardt

  * * *

  Sebastian halted his horse, then turned her to face Jonah, who lagged behind on Cinnamon. The nearer they had come to Black Wood; the slower Jonah had ridden. Actually, he appeared ready to turn and bolt for home.

  They had enjoyed their time together till now. The weather had accommodated them, and once Jonah had relaxed, they had talked like true friends. Jonah had insisted they spar. Even that had been exhilarating in the open fields, far away from the eyes of the kingdom. Sebastian often tired of sparring in the presence of young women who merely wanted to see men sweat.

  Jonah’s expression showed no contentment. Wide-eyed fear replaced ease.

  Sebastian dismounted and gestured with a toss of his head to the forest behind him. “They are trees and nothing more.”

  Jonah hesitated for a moment, then swung to the ground and gave Cinnamon a pat. “Thick, dark, horrid-looking trees,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “If we were in danger, the horses would be restless. Yet they are as calm as ever.” Both mares grazed without care.

  Jonah paced, still mumbling.

  “We shall be fine.” Sebastian peered into the thick woods. Jonah’s nervousness accomplished nothing, aside from dousing some of Sebastian’s excitement. Why should two grown men fear anything?

  Jonah grunted, moved to his horse, and retrieved his cloak. “You had best put yours on as well. I see little light shining through the trees.”

  Sebastian readily complied. He also produced a scythe needed for cutting the underbrush.

  As they neared the entrance to the forest, his heart pounded. Not from fear, but something greater. They would create new stories to tell their children. What could be more thrilling?

  He located an area with fewer trees and ably led Golda inward. Jonah followed with Cinnamon.

  Softwood trees surrounded them. Pines and firs. Gnarly hardwoods were less abundant, but created dark images like those of long-limbed creatures, adding an eeriness to their surroundings.

  Sebastian breathed in the pine scent. An aroma he found pleasing and fresh.

  “These needles are unbearable,” Jonah fussed, pushing a branch to the side. “And my hands are covered in pitch.”

  “You should have worn gloves.” Sebastian remained calm and eased his way through. “Try to see the magnificence here. I have never seen such enormous, healthy trees.”

  “I would much rather be home enjoying the beauty there.”

  Sebastian stopped and faced him. “If you are referring to Allana, you had best hold your tongue. And please, stop complaining. I may change my mind about our agreement, and as prince, order you to speak only when you have something pleasant to say.”

  “I shall attempt to do better. Perhaps we should find a place to make camp and not venture much farther into the wood.”

  Sebastian easily read into Jonah’s words. If they did not go far, he could easily turn and run to the meadow. However, Sebastian was not ready to stop. They had barely gotten into the trees.

  “We will continue on till we find a clearing,” Sebastian said. “Then, we shall make camp.”

  Though unable to comprehend his words, Sebastian listened to Jonah fuss as they pressed forward. He did his best to ignore him.

  A mixture of moss and pine needles covered the forest floor. Squirrels scampered about and raced up the trees as they approached.

  Sebastian grinned.

  Supper . . .

  They would need to find a clearing large enough to build a campfire.

  A stream of light caught Sebastian’s eye, like a finger from the heavens pointing the way. “We shall find our clearing there.”

  After hacking away at underbrush for over an hour, a good rest appealed to him.

  The beam of light danced with dust particles and lit up the small clearing like a lantern. After moving a few heavy rocks, Sebastian kicked at the dirt and smoothed a spot for their shelter.

  “So, you wish to sleep here?” Jonah gazed upward, then moved his head from side-to-side, eyeing their surroundings.

  “Yes. I like it. It feels . . . comfortable.”

  “Comfortable?” Jonah’s lip curled, but he offered no argument. A good thing, too. If he continued to complain, Sebastian might be tempted to send him away.

  They removed the travel packs from their horses and brought out their supplies. A large piece of canvas perfectly folded over a low tree branch, and they used rope and wooden stakes to secure it to the ground. In the event it rained, they would be covered.

  “We should gather pine straw to place beneath our blankets,” Sebastian said. “It will give us a soft place to sleep.”

  “Until it pokes through,” Jonah grunted.

  Sebastian shook a finger at him and immediately received an apologetic smile.

  In the center of their campground, they pushed aside all the dry growth, until they reached soil. Then, they placed rocks in a circle around the fresh dirt and stacked smalls sticks and kindling.

  “You build the fire, Jonah.” Sebastian grabbed his bow. “I shall get our supper.”

  “Do you not want me to go with you?”

  “No. Tend the horses. Build a good fire, and I will be back before the sun sets.”

  “But, I—”

  “I shall be fine, and so will you.” Sebastian grasped his shoulder. “Nary a soul is around for miles.”

  “It is not the souls that worry me. Rather, other things.” Jonah looked up at Sebastian, with genuine concern.

  “I am not afraid. And—I am quite hungry.”

  Sebastian secured the sword at his side, tightened the cloak around his neck, and slung the quiver over his shoulder.

  Since he knew Jonah would feel safer staying behind with the horses, Sebastian headed off to see what lay deeper in the forest.

  No more stories. He wanted truth.

  Chapter 5

  “No!” Olivia jerked upright in bed.

  Another nightmare. Rain, swords clashing, and Donovan once again dressed in black.

  Her door creaked open.

  “Your Highness, I heard you scream.”

  The frightened eyes of Rosalie, her maidservant, peeked around the corner of the door.

  “I am fine. Please come in, Rosalie.”

  Dressed in solid white, with a scarf covering most of her long, red hair, Rosalie stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but your scream . . .”

  Olivia lifted her arms over her head, stretched, and yawned. “You have not disturbed me. I needed to rise. I do not want to endure Mother’s scolding today.” She laughed softly and smiled.

  Rosalie crept closer to the bed, wringing her hands. “I’m glad you are not angry. And since I am here, Highness, may I speak to you about something of a sensitive nature?”

  Though seventeen, Rosalie resembled a girl of twelve. Tiny and with a shape like that of a boy. She had tended Olivia long enough to gain her trust, and they often spoke as friends.

  Olivia patted the corner of her bed. “What is troubling you?”

  Rosalie sat. “I fear you may be—well—misled.”

  “Misled?”

  Rosalie turned her back to Olivia. “I do not know how to say this.” Her voice trembled.

  The unusual tone twisted Olivia’s insides. “You can speak openly to me about anything.”

  “But I do not want to hurt you!” Rosalie whipped around. Tears welled in her eyes. “I care about you a great deal, and what he is doing is unthinkable.”

  “What who is doing?” Her tension did not ease. Honestly, she felt as if she might be sick.

  “The baker’s son. Donovan.” After saying his name, Rosalie blubbered into a loud bawl and covered her face with her hands.

  Olivia held her stomach, breathed deeply, and prayed she was still dreaming. How could anyone know of her involvement with Donovan?

  She pinched her eyes tightly shut, counted to ten, then opened them again. Rosalie sat before her, sobbing
like a child.

  She dreaded what her maid had to say, but Olivia needed to know. To do so, she had to calm her.

  Olivia gently pulled Rosalie’s hands away from her damp cheeks, then had her rest them in her lap. Rosalie continued to sniffle, all the while nervously biting her bottom lip.

  Olivia looked into her eyes. “Tell me what you know.”

  After sucking in large amounts of air, Rosalie licked her lips and sighed. “Donovan’s brother, Dane, and I are . . .” She wrung her hands so hard her skin turned red. “We are involved.”

  In Olivia’s opinion, Dane was not the best choice in men and known to be slightly dim-witted. However, commoners could choose whomever they pleased.

  “Go on . . .” Olivia could not calm her racing heart.

  “Last night, he spoke of you. He told me he had seen you and Donovan kissing.”

  Just as Olivia had feared. It must have been Dane who had walked away with Donovan after their memorable kiss. Olivia held her hand to her lips. Had he intended them to be seen?

  Rosalie’s face paled. “Is it true, Your Highness? Did you kiss him?”

  What harm could there be in telling the truth? After all, as princess she could choose whomever she pleased. Eventually the kingdom would know of their feelings for one another. Donovan loved her wholeheartedly, and perhaps the time had come to tell him she felt the same.

  She sat tall and smiled broadly. “Yes, I kissed him, and it was wonderful.”

  Rosalie burst into another fit of tears, sobbing harder than ever.

  Olivia gaped at her. “Why are you crying?” She patted Rosalie’s leg, trying to get her attention.

  “Be . . . Because last night while Dane and I were together in the woods . . .” Rosalie sucked in a large amount of air. “Donovan was there with Lady Justine. Kissing her like a familiar lover.”

  Olivia froze, unable to breathe. Rosalie had to be mistaken. Donovan loved her, not Justine. Justine was merely one of her mother’s ladies—a woman bound to the queen.

  The lady with the long lashes, ebony hair, perfectly smooth white skin, and voluptuous bosom.

  “Are you certain it was Donovan?” Olivia choked out the words.

  Rosalie’s head bobbed up and down. “And . . . there is more.”

  More? Olivia could not withstand much more.

  She pinched her lips together and breathed heavily through her nose. Though she wanted to tell Rosalie to keep whatever else she had heard to herself, she needed to know everything. No matter how painful.

  “Donovan told Dane he intends to be king. He kissed you to prove himself to his brother. Your Highness, he is not the man you believe him to be. I assure you, he means you harm.”

  “Harm? I understand he wanted to show Dane my interest in him, but why harm me if he wishes to wed me?”

  “You do not understand. He intends to marry you, but the only way he could rule would be through your death. Your blood will make you queen. Your death would have all eyes turn to him as a leader. As king.”

  Olivia clutched her chest. “My death?” She stared into nothingness. Numb to the bone. “Of course. Otherwise, he would be a mere prince. My husband and nothing more.” She spoke void of feeling, then shut her eyes.

  Almost immediately, she popped them open again. “No,” she whispered. Tears came of their own will. She had saved herself for that one special kiss . . . “It cannot be true.”

  With a gentleness she had never displayed before, Rosalie took Olivia’s hand and held it. “I am telling you what I truthfully heard and saw. I care about you. So, please, be wary. Look beyond his outward appearance and view what lies beneath.”

  Rosalie leaned forward and kissed Olivia’s cheek. “I’m sorry.” She stood erect, and with tears still running down her freckled cheeks, left the room.

  As if a dark cloud had covered her and smothered her in a foul stench, Olivia curled into a ball and pulled her blankets up high around her.

  Her nightmares had known the truth.

  * * *

  Depression kept Olivia in her bed well into the afternoon. Her mother sent Rosalie to check on her, and Olivia instructed Rosalie to tell the queen that her woman’s time had come upon her and she needed rest. No further interruptions came.

  When she finally managed to creep from her bed and dress, she made her way to the wall. She stood beside the gate and stared past the bridge to the other side, wishing now more than ever she could run free.

  Movement?

  Her heart leapt. She rarely saw anything but birds, and whatever this might be was much larger.

  She reached into her cloak and removed a spyglass her father had given her when she was a little girl. He had hoped it would appease her need for looking outside the kingdom.

  She raised the instrument to her right eye and closed her left. Expecting to see a large deer, or perhaps a bear, she gasped and fell to her knees.

  A man.

  Her heart thumped. She considered screaming, but that would bring the guards. They might pierce him with an arrow and ruin any chance she had to learn the man’s identity and reason for coming.

  So close. A complete stranger. Something she had never seen before.

  After swallowing the enormous lump in her throat, she inched upward until her head poked just above the wall. Before peering out, she gazed around Padrida, hoping and praying no one would come.

  She rested the spyglass against the stone wall, fearing she might drop it out of utter excitement.

  She adjusted the glass and brought him into focus. Definitely a man. He appeared tall, well structured, and . . .

  He, too, had a spyglass that happened to be directed at her.

  Oh, mercy . . .

  She dropped out of view. Unfortunately, she believed he had seen her.

  “Good day, m’lady!”

  His words left no doubt of her suspicions.

  Her throat completely dried. She had no idea what to do.

  Though the distance across the gorge was large, this was the narrowest point. If someone yelled loud enough, their voice could be heard, and it echoed through the canyon. Fortunately, the courtyard was far enough away, no one there could hear him.

  “Are you there?” His booming baritone voice filled her ears.

  All her life, she had wanted to know what was out there, and this stranger likely had the answer. So why hesitate?

  She stood fully upright and mustered her courage. “Good day, sir!” At least her voice had not trembled.

  “How do I cross?” He screamed the question.

  Frantically, she waved her arm. “No! You cannot!” She looked again through the spyglass. His foot rested on the bridge. “Stop! It is forbidden to cross!”

  This would not do. They would draw attention if they kept yelling at one another.

  She peered once more through the instrument, praying he had taken her warning to heart.

  He shook his head and stepped back.

  Good.

  Though a stranger, the man was certainly handsome. He had hair darker than Donovan’s and just as thick.

  Oh, my.

  He was looking at her again.

  She lowered the glass and coyly tilted her head. Oddly, she felt a bit like a showpiece and stood, using the best posture imaginable. For some unknown reason, she wanted to impress him.

  “I do not understand!” he yelled again.

  He needed to leave, or they would both be found out. The last thing she wanted was his blood on her hands.

  “Please, you must go!”

  Even from afar, she could tell his head was shaking, his confusion apparent. Maybe if she walked away, he would leave.

  Since she felt an urgency to protect him, she took a step from the wall.

  “Wait!”

  She stopped and turned to face him.

  He reached out his hand. “Tell me your name!”

  “Olivia!” She screamed it without a second thought.

  “I am Sebastian!”


  Her heart fluttered. Such a kind name, and now, he was no longer a stranger.

  When she raised the spyglass again, he had vanished, like a dream.

  Slightly numb, she trudged to the castle. Anger from Donovan’s betrayal had been replaced by curiosity over this man.

  Sebastian . . .

  Perhaps he would return.

  * * *

  Sebastian made his way to the safety of the trees. Lost in thought, he took his time. He was in no hurry to get back to Jonah.

  After leaving him to hunt for squirrels, Sebastian never dreamed he would stumble onto something like this. The woman had been terrified.

  He had heard the sound of a rushing river and moved toward it, intending to collect fresh water. When he had pushed aside some dense shrubbery, it revealed a low-lying castle far off, set on what looked like an island in the forest. A deep canyon surrounded it with no apparent way across.

  Curiosity had him circle around till he had found the bridge. One that had obviously gone unused for decades. The decayed wood had missing planks and holes scattered about. A miracle in itself it still stood.

  When he had raised his spyglass to examine the bridge on the far side of the gorge, she had come into focus. A woman who compared in beauty to his mother.

  Olivia.

  His adventure had become more than he could have imagined. Yet none of it made sense. How could a kingdom set off from the rest of the world ever survive?

  Olivia appeared to be in good health. Her features showed no sign of undernourishment. Though he had only seen her face, she seemed terribly frightened, as well as beautiful.

  Darkness would soon set in, and he needed to return to Jonah. His friend would never forgive him being left alone in the dark, with owls screeching and wolves howling.

  Sebastian managed to shoot a rabbit—a much tastier meal than squirrel. Prize in hand, he hastened back to camp.

  The scent of wood smoke led him there.

  “Your Highness!” Jonah yelled with a relieved sigh. Discomfort must have dismissed their agreement.

  “Here.” Sebastian held the rabbit by its ears. “I killed it. You may do the rest.”

  Without hesitation, Jonah grabbed it and pulled out his knife. “I brought salt. Are you pleased?”