Island in the Forest

by Jeanne Hardt

  “No,” he muttered and shook his head.

  Could King Boden believe his daughter to be the one prophesied? The queen who would reign over all people. The prophecy had been spread throughout the land for centuries. Olivia herself, surely knew of it.

  However, the prophecy stated the queen would bring peace to the lands. Peace had already been attained, brought about by his ancestors. Kings who reigned in Basilia. Men, not women.

  Sebastian beat his fist on the door. He never should have come here.

  Princess Angeline wanted him, and there were bound to be others. He should have taken Jonah’s advice and gone to Oros. After all, one day Sebastian would be high king. Protector of all realms. A princess who had any sense at all would want to be by his side.

  God, it hurts . . .

  He thought for certain Olivia was the answer to all his troubles.

  He traipsed across the floor and fell onto the bed. His heart kept him from denying his feelings for her. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge her. The poor woman had recently been betrayed by a man she thought loved her, yet ultimately hurt her. How could she not be guarded?

  It was wrong to expect her to love and trust him so readily.

  “Ugh!” He raked his hand through his hair, then grabbed a fistful.

  Being furious with himself made matters worse. If he kept wallowing, he would never devise a plan to get through this mess.

  He glanced around the room for some sort of inspiration, though he had already memorized everything in sight, from his hours of pacing. Still, he might have missed something.

  A tall wardrobe stood in the corner. He had not bothered to find out what might be inside, so why not now?

  To his dismay, he discovered only dresses. Nothing helpful at all.

  He chuckled, struck by an insane, but possible idea.

  He thumbed through the garments, searching for the largest. Once he found it, when he held it up to himself, it was much too small. Yet, the skirt might be workable.

  With little regard for the pale-colored fabric, he tore the skirt from the bodice. After widening it, he stepped in, then rolled the top of the fabric into his leggings, holding it in place.

  Looking down at himself, he chuckled harder. “God help me if Jonah sees below my waistline.” He would never hear the end of it.

  Fortune happened to be on his side. A long, hooded cloak hung at the back of the wardrobe.

  He removed the skirt, folded it inside the cloak, then rolled them into a ball.

  Though he prayed he would not need it, he secured his sword in its sheath. If only the king had listened to him, all would be well, and this silly ploy would be unnecessary.

  No. Even then, all would not be well. As much as it pained him, the events that transpired had made him aware of Olivia’s true feelings. Or lack thereof.

  He slung his bow over his back, then tucked the arrow with the letter attached under his tunic.

  He had heard mention of a postern gate and hoped the back exit would not be guarded. It was unlikely. Even so, nothing would keep him from getting to the wall. As much as Olivia had hurt him, he would never allow war to come upon her kingdom.

  Once he secured the bundle of clothes under his arm, he opened his chamber door and gazed down the corridor. No one in sight. He headed in the opposite direction of the great hall. It had to lead to an exit.

  His heart pounded, and oddly, he relished the sensation. This was the adventure he sought. And if all went well, he hoped he might still acquire a bride.

  * * *

  Perhaps it was not the most sensible idea for Olivia to turn to the parent who had seemingly shunned her for as long as she could remember. But, she had no choice. Her father’s decision could not be swayed. And as he had said, her mother could be manipulative, which might work in Olivia’s favor.

  In her illness, her mother had not replaced Lady Rosalie. Only Lady Eloise and Lady Margaret stood at her bedside. To Olivia’s relief, her mother sat upright, sipping a cup of tea.

  Lady Margaret’s eyes shifted downward the moment Olivia entered the room.

  Olivia would speak to her later and assure her that her secret would be kept. And as angry as Olivia currently felt toward her father, she appreciated how he had saved Lady Margaret from embarrassment.

  Olivia cautiously approached her mother, expecting to be told to keep her distance. “You are looking well.”

  “Yes, I am. It is good you have come.” She motioned to the seat beside her bed, then waved her hand and dismissed her ladies.

  They hastened away.

  Olivia sat and folded her hands on her lap. It pleased her to see so much color in her mother’s cheeks. And though she had not been greeted with a smile, she could tell her mother felt much better and would make a full recovery. Even so, she pondered how to gently bring up the issues she needed to discuss.

  Her mother took another sip of tea and peered at her over the rim of the cup. “Your day has been eventful. Has it not?”

  “Yes, Mother. I assume Lady Margaret told you the outcome of the trial?”

  Her mother nodded, then frowned. “Treason is a serious crime. Much more so than misplaced passion.”

  “Then you understand why Father released me from my pledge.”

  “Yes.” Her frown remained. “Tell me about this stranger in our kingdom. Why has your father not removed the man’s head?”

  “Why should he? Sebastian has committed no crime.”

  Her brows rose. “Sebastian, hmm? You speak as though familiar. Be wary, my dear. Evil lies within him.”

  “But—”

  “He committed numerous crimes by crossing the bridge, disrupting our way of life, and bringing evil among us. He is a Basilian, for God’s sake!”

  “You know him not!” Though Olivia felt conflicted about her fondness for him, she had to put her mother at ease and shed light on her false beliefs. “Forgive me for lashing out. Please let me explain.”

  Her mother eyed her briefly, then fluttered her hand. “Very well.”

  Olivia calmed herself and proceeded to tell how and why Sebastian had come into Padrida. Her mother’s reaction to the knowledge of his presence should not have surprised her. Everyone in Padrida—down to the smallest of children—had been taught to fear the outside world and the evil it held. The queen was no different. Her mother believed evil could manifest itself within someone and be spread to others by their presence alone.

  Olivia had not come to her mother’s bedchamber for this particular conversation, even though Sebastian had been part of her reason for wanting to speak with her.

  “Mother?” Olivia stared at her hands, still neatly folded in her lap. “I wish to discuss something else.”

  “Go on . . .”

  Olivia breathed deeply. “I understand why you have never been fond of me.” She slowly lifted her eyes.

  Her mother’s offense showed in every part of her rigid body. Her scowl said the most. “How could you speak so? I have made certain you have everything—the finest gowns, food, servants—”

  “Mother, please.” Olivia took hold of her hand. “I want to speak openly. I know about the baker and how difficult it was for you when Donovan was born. How much it hurt.”

  “Your father has loose lips.” She jerked her hand away. “Why did he tell you?”

  “He wanted me to understand your reasoning for insisting I name Donovan as suitor.” Olivia choked back tears. “I am sorry your life has not been what you wished for. I understand because I, too, feel trapped in my life. Sebastian would have given me freedom, but Father has forbidden us to leave Padrida.” She lowered her head and closed her eyes. “I shall never be happy again.”

  She startled when her mother’s hand moved over the top of her head.

  “My dear . . .” Her mother gasped.

  Olivia looked up to see what had alarmed her, and found her mother fighting tears of her own. No longer appearing angry, she gazed at Olivia with pity. “You are no longe
r a little girl. Only a woman’s heart could comprehend such things.”

  “I have never been so confused, Mother. I believe I love Sebastian, but I am afraid. Donovan hurt me so badly that—”

  Her mother pressed her fingers against Olivia’s lips. “Can you forgive me for having you name him?”

  Olivia moved into her arms. For once, her mother made her feel needed and loved. “Of course, I forgive you. I never fully understood, until now.” She rested her head against her mother’s bosom, finally comforted in her embrace. “How can you bear to see . . . him.” She peered toward her mother’s window, which had always faced the baker’s cottage.

  Before the truth came to light, Olivia never thought it odd, assuming her mother savored the scent of freshly baked bread. And yet, knowing the truth, she thought her mother had purposely chosen this particular chamber to be near the man she loved.

  Her mother pushed back her covers, stood, then walked to the window and placed her hand against the glass. “It only hurt when I saw him with her. His red-haired wife. When she died, I considered going to him. However, I could not create scandal, and an indiscretion of such nature would not have gone unnoticed. I love him to this day.” She turned from the window. “I also love your father.”

  “How can you give your heart to two men?”

  “One holds it from afar. The other keeps it near. I would not wish this misery on any woman.”

  The last words Olivia had spoken to Sebastian resonated through her mind. I do not care and I do not know. Neither was true. Her words had come out in anger and frustration, but had been directed at the wrong man.

  Truthfully, she did care and she would never have gone away with Sebastian’s manservant. And not because he was a servant. Only because he was not Sebastian.

  How could she have been so cruel to let him walk away, hurt? Simply thinking about it pained her own heart.

  “Mother?” Olivia’s dry throat made speaking difficult. “How will I know for certain when I am in love? Truly in love?”

  Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and faced her. “Listen to your heart. When love is real, you will feel more alive than ever before. Even in your dreams. And you will physically ache to be with him. No matter the cost.”

  “And yet, you cast aside love for Father.”

  “I was a foolish girl who wanted to wear a crown.” She swung her legs onto the bed, then covered herself with the blankets. “I need rest.”

  Olivia gave her a final hug, then kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.” She headed for the door, but stopped before going out. “Mother?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I love you.” Olivia rushed from the room.

  She had to find Sebastian, before it was too late.

  Chapter 23

  As Sebastian approached the postern gate, his fear came to fruition. The passageway was guarded, but to his good fortune had only one sentry—the small middle-aged man in desperate need of a barber. His hair partially covered his eyes. Sebastian had seen him at the front door earlier in the day.

  Odd for the king to put someone with his diminutive stature in such an important post. However, Sebastian had learned never to underestimate the strength of any man, no matter their size.

  Sebastian prepared for a confrontation and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  The guard drew his own blade and tossed his graying hair from his eyes. “Stop where you are, Basilian Prince.” His words were by no means, friendly.

  Though tempted to run the man through, Sebastian had another plan. A dead guard would add fuel to the king’s fire, and if Sebastian hoped to accomplish his task, he needed to stay in the king’s favor.

  Sebastian eased closer to the man, smiling all the while. “By any chance, are you . . .?” He looked upward as if trying to recall the man’s name. “Damn. The name Princess Olivia told me has escaped my mind.” He tapped his chin and shook his head.

  The guard watched every move he made. “Gerard?”

  Sebastian victoriously raised his hands in the air. “Yes! Gerard the guard. How I ever forgot that is beyond me. The princess described you perfectly.” The man stood a little taller, seemingly falling for his ploy.

  But then, Gerard tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. “Why did the princess mention me by name?”

  “Because . . .” Sebastian alleviated all space between them and put his arm over Gerard’s shoulder. “She told me the queen’s lady . . . Oh, bother. There I go again, forgetting names. She has long . . .” Sebastian circled his head with his hand, implying hair.

  “Red hair?” Gerard gulped.

  “Yes!” Sebastian slapped him on the back.

  “The Lady Margaret?” Gerard’s face turned to putty.

  “Exactly. The Lady Margaret.” This could not have gone better. “I see you are fond of her. I do apologize, but I have always had difficulty remembering names. I am certain you understand that being unfamiliar with most everyone here makes it even more difficult.”

  Gerard stepped to the side and wrinkled his nose. “What does Lady Margaret want with me?”

  Sebastian grinned. “She finds you favorable. The princess is currently indisposed, but she asked that I find you and send you to the Lady’s chamber. Lady Margaret has been pining for you, but did not know how to make her feelings known.”

  Gerard’s chest noticeably rose and fell. His heart rate had to have increased tenfold, because his face glowed brilliant red.

  The man licked his lips, then gestured to the door. “I—I cannot go to her. The king would see me shackled if I leave my post.”

  “Then let me stay for you.”

  “You?” Gerard’s brows dipped toward his nose. “We were told to watch you. How do I know you won’t go out the door?” He shuffled backward and plastered himself against it, as if finally realizing he had not been guarding it well.

  Sebastian frowned and shook his head, then placed his hand to his heart. “I cannot take the risk. You know very well that your people wish me dead. The moment I step foot from the castle, I will surely be taken down by an archer. I appreciate your concern, but I am no fool.”

  And just as his mother’s brows danced when heavy in thought, Gerard’s did the same. Obviously from thoughts of Lady Margaret. One day, Sebastian would have to see her to gain full comprehension of Gerard’s dilemma.

  The man nervously licked his lips, then sheathed his sword. “You will stay here until I return?”

  “You have my word.” Sebastian bowed at the waist.

  A grin emerged on the poor little man’s disheveled hair-covered face, and he took a large step away from his post.

  Sebastian casually extended his foot. It caught Gerard’s, tripped him, and brought him down.

  Hard.

  He fell face-first onto the floor and painfully grunted. Before he could pick himself up again, Sebastian dropped the bundle of clothing from beneath his arm and drew his sword. With both hands firmly grasping it, he drove the hilt against Gerard’s head.

  His body went limp.

  Sebastian knelt beside him. “Forgive me,” he whispered, then felt the man’s neck for a pulse.

  Good. Out cold, but not dead.

  To Sebastian’s added fortune, no other person had appeared in the hallway. He dragged Gerard to the side of the wall least likely to be seen and pushed his body close against it.

  Sebastian had little time to accomplish the rest of his task. The blow to the head would keep Gerard quiet for a short while. However, he would eventually wake up suffering from a terrible headache, and with any luck, no memory of their conversation.

  Sebastian quickly unfolded his bundle and dressed. He wound the scarf around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. The skirt was long enough to cover his boots. Once he put on the cloak, the hood not only covered his head, but helped secure the scarf in place.

  He pushed the door open and stepped through. It took him only a moment to get his bearings and know which direction to go t
o reach the bridge. The sun dipped low in the sky. If Jonah had already gone, Sebastian had little hope of keeping peace.

  He took slow, graceful steps. Long, manly strides would give him away, or at least draw suspicion. He checked his bow and arrow, still in place beneath his costume.

  Danger surrounded him, yet he chuckled. Perhaps from anxiety, or from the thought that one day he might be able to tell his children he dressed like a woman to save their mother.

  His heart thumped. He wanted it to be so.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted a man far off. He seemed to be looking in Sebastian’s direction, but made no movement toward him.

  As Sebastian crossed the meadow to the wall, he found himself completely alone. Exactly what he had hoped for. No one was in sight. He could not have executed a better plan, although he wished he had the spyglass he had left with Jonah.

  Even so, when he reached the wall, he had no difficulty seeing to the other side. There was movement in the brush, then Jonah appeared holding the spyglass pressed to his eye.

  Sebastian threw off the hood, unwound the scarf, then waved at him.

  “Your Highness!” Even from afar, the relief in his voice was evident.

  Sebastian wasted no time raising his bow and sent the arrow flying. “Read the letter! Then take it to the king!”

  The arrow landed several feet from Jonah, and Sebastian breathed easier. Olivia’s father may not approve of the contents of the letter, but the old bridge needed to be rebuilt.

  Sadly, if the Basilian men arrived and were met with hostility, war would ensue.

  Jonah pulled the arrow from the ground. “Are you well?” A slight quiver came through in his shouted words.

  “Yes! Now go!”

  Unsure which of them was more relieved, Sebastian redressed himself, then moved from the wall. If Jonah happened to be watching, he would question the odd attire. Once he read the final line of the letter, all his worries would be cast aside.

  I guarantee your knighthood, would keep Jonah content until he had Allana’s hand.