Salvation by the Sea: The Tale of the Innkeeper's Maid (Fairetellings Book 4)

by Kristen Reed

  Salvation by the Sea

  The Tale of the Innkeeper’s Maid

  Kristen Reed

  Salvation by the Sea: The Tale of the Innkeeper’s Maid by Kristen Reed

  Copyright © 2017 Kristen Reed

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Front Cover Photo Credit: © Aliaksei Lasevich / Adobe Stock

  Other Tiles by Kristen Reed

  The Fairetellings Series

  The Jilted Bride: A Footnote to Cinderella’s Happiness

  Eirwen’s Dream: Inside Snow White’s Sleeping Mind

  Ingrid’s Engagement: How A Beauty Tamed A Beast

  Salvation by the Sea: The Tale of the Innkeeper’s Maid

  The Beginnings Series

  Out of the Garden

  Five Nights With Pharaoh

  The Clara Robinson Series

  The Way of Escape

  Chapter 1

  Serenity washed over Muirigan as the cool sea foam tickled her bare toes, which she wiggled in excitement at the prospect of swimming in the Nerida Sea early Friday morning. Lifting her face to the sky in a moment of wordless anticipation, the maid thanked God for giving her a place to swim undisturbed. In her private paradise, Muirigan shunned the cumbersome bathing gowns women donned at public beaches. Instead, she could cut through the churning surf wearing the black and white sleeveless top and knee-length shorts Mr. Hansen gave her for her twenty-second birthday earlier that year. The aged innkeeper slipped the garments to her in secret with a wink. After all, his sweet, traditional wife would have lovingly berated him had she known about the scandalous men’s swimwear.

  But was it scandalous if no one could see her wearing it?

  Opening her hunter green eyes as a contended smile spread across her bronzed face, Muirigan skipped toward the surf. Once the chilly waters were deep enough, she began swimming. The mere thought of letting the salty water envelop her body terrified Muirigan the first time her father gave her a swimming lesson. However, with her increased proficiency came greater affection for the mighty sea and the bittersweet nostalgia it inspired.

  For years, the waters separating Muirigan’s homeland, Villriket, from Schlagefilde were more of a home to her than the places where she laid her head at night. During her darkest moments, she counted the tiny crabs and shimmering fish as her only friends. Since then, God called Christoffer and Andrea Hansen to protect and nurture her. Still, the unparalleled hardship that defined the year before they became her caretakers left scars on Muirigan’s spirit that no warm bed or compassionate smile could ever fully erase. The sea had been her shelter and the river had been her refuge until she encountered the sweet old innkeeper and his wife, who took her in as both a maid and a surrogate daughter.

  Her arms burning from exertion, Muirigan made her way to the shoal where she habitually rested and perched herself on the strip of sand. Crossing her legs underneath her, she untied the ribbon around her wrist so she could braid her amber locks—a task she was too delightfully distracted to do upon arriving at the shore. As she plaited her sopping mane, an object floating in the water grabbed her attention. Muirigan’s eyes rested on a piece of driftwood the size of a door about a furlong off. When the surf caused the marine debris to rotate clockwise, she spotted something atop the driftwood.

  Or rather someone.

  Springing into action with her hair halfway undone, Muirigan dove back into the sea. She propelled herself through the water as quickly as she could, hoping with every passing second that the poor soul still lived. Upon reaching the driftwood, Muirigan placed her hands on the plank and kicked her legs as hard as she could to push the person ashore. Luckily, the man was less than fifty feet from the beach, so some of the young woman’s vigor still remained by the time they were safely on dry land.

  Panting with exertion but determined to save the man’s life, Muirigan rolled him from his side to his back. Her panting turned into a gasp upon recognizing someone she hadn’t seen in six years. His face bore several virtually imperceptible scars and a few days’ worth of stubble while a huge knot and an ugly purple bruise marred his forehead. Nevertheless, she would have recognized her childhood best friend anywhere. Though she heard rumors of his ferocity on and off the battlefield over the years, she couldn’t find a trace of aggression on his almost angelic face. Muirigan could tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest that he was breathing and felt his pulse pounding fiercely in his neck. Alas, his unconscious state still made her chest tighten with worry.

  “Hal,” she whispered. “Please wake up. I don’t know how I’ll bring you back to the inn by myself.”

  Startling his attentive savior, the prince opened his blue eyes for a moment and gawked at the stunned young woman. Muirigan’s heart leapt and she bit her quivering bottom lip to keep from sobbing as an onslaught of emotion crashed into her. Shame, excitement, affection, and dread wrestled for control of her heart as Halvard reached up with his brow furrowed in confusion. However, when his eyes fluttered shut and his hand fell to his side again before he could caress her tanned cheek, fierce resolve overrode the multitude of sentiments swirling within her.

  As she scanned the vicinity for something—anything—to transport Halvard to safety with, Muirigan’s eyes fell upon an old rope. In seconds, she scrambled to her feet and shot across the beach to seize the blessed cord, periodically looking back to see if the unconscious prince had awakened again. Once she grasped the frayed rope safely in her hands, she flitted back over to her childhood friend and tied it around the plank. Muirigan left a few yards free and used it to pull the makeshift stretcher back up the hill to the inn.

  Halvard had grown considerably in musculature since they parted years before, which made dragging him the half-mile from the beach to her caretakers’ establishment quite the chore. Nevertheless, Muirigan’s concern for the fallen prince made the rope burn in her hands and pain in her arms almost unnoticeable.

  When she reached the inn at long last, Muirigan slammed the back door open to haul Halvard inside. The commotion caught Andrea’s attention right away and nearly made the portly old woman drop the spoon she used to stir her famous stew.

  “Good heavens, child! What are you wearing?”

  “Never mind what I’m wearing! I just found Hal—Prince Halvard floating in the sea, and he’s out cold.”

  Andrea abandoned her dish and hollered for her husband’s aid as she helped Muirigan bring the prince into the inn. In the space of five minutes, the trio carried the young man into their finest room. There, Christoffer examined him using the medical expertise he picked up during his days in the army. After confirming that the raven-haired prince suffered from a simple knock to the head and a low-grade fever, he tasked Muirigan with washing his waterlogged military uniform.

  Muirigan complied without hesitation, admitting to herself that her hovering wouldn’t help Halvard’s prognosis. Thus, she dedicated herself to scrubbing the royal’s clothing clean and prayed to God for his recovery every time he crossed her mind, which left her praying ceaselessly for ha
lf an hour. The maid, whose fingertips were shriveled like currants from her chores, crept over to Halvard’s room the instant she finished hanging the blue and yellow uniform by the fireplace to dry. Upon crossing the threshold, Muirigan’s eyes widened and she staggered backward into the doorframe.

  Prince Halvard was awake.

  The handsome prince lie in the modestly comfortable bed staring at the ceiling with his hands balled into fists at his sides. The sapphire blanket Andrea tucked him in with made his steely blue eyes look much darker than usual … an observation Muirigan made when he shifted his attention from the ceiling to his seaside savior the moment she appeared in the doorway.

  Averting her gaze and giving a genuine curtsy for the first time in years, Muirigan berated herself for not asking her caretakers about Halvard’s health before rushing to his room. The prince’s expression softened, but neither of them uttered a word. Several ragged breaths passed through Muirigan’s lips and perspiration moistened her brow as distress crept into her hammering heart. As much as she adored Halvard in her youth, he was higher above her now than when she enjoyed the privilege of being a viscount’s daughter. Since then, she’d sunk lower than the servants who scrubbed the decks of his ships and cleaned his toilet at the palace.

  God, please don’t let him recognize me, she prayed, quaking under his silent scrutiny.

  “Are you the one who saved me?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “I remembered seeing a girl, but I didn’t know if you were a hallucination or if some mermaid rescued me from the deep. Now, I can see that I was wrong on both accounts. Where did you find me?”

  “Floating in the water.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “I dragged you on the plank you were drifting on, Your Highness.”

  Halvard turned his blue eyes to the window, which faced the sea.

  “That’s at least half a mile. You must be stronger than an ox,” the prince marveled.

  Unsure of how to respond to Halvard’s unusual compliment, Muirigan chose to keep her mouth shut.

  “Is Christoffer your father?”

  “No, Your Highness.”

  “Well, you obviously know who I am, but I don’t know your name. What—”

  “I brought you some stew, Your Highness,” Andrea proclaimed as she crossed the threshold with a tray.

  Thanking God for her guardian’s interruption, Muirigan slipped away and fled downstairs to the front desk. There, she found Christoffer checking in two new guests. After the newlyweds vacated the lobby to find their room, Muirigan emerged from the shadows, receiving a warm smile from the innkeeper.

  “I sent Endre to the palace to alert King Viggo that his brother is in our care. The prince told me that he was sailing home after finishing his latest voyage with the army. Apparently, the storm that rolled in earlier this morning tore his ship apart. By the time word of your gallantry reaches the king’s ears, you’ll be a hero!”

  “The king wouldn’t come here himself, would he?”

  “No, of course not. He’ll send someone he trusts to fetch his convalescing brother.”

  Muirigan raked an unsteady hand through her damp amber locks as a sigh passed through her lips.

  “We haven’t breathed a word to him about you,” he assured the young woman, placing a meaty hand on top of hers. “Your story is yours to tell. Andrea and I won’t tell it for you.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I …”

  When a sob threatened to escape from Muirigan’s throat, she paused to take a deep breath. Her chin quivered and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she searched her soul for the right words to say and the composure to voice them without falling apart.

  “I’d just rather him think I’m dead. That’s probably what he’s believed for the past six years, and I don’t want to disappoint him by ruining his memories and opinion of me.”

  Christoffer leaned in and kissed Muirigan’s forehead as a solitary tear snaked down her cheek, and he wiped it away before she had a chance to. Though she kept her eyes downcast, the kindhearted old man intently gazed at the young woman who he’d loved as a daughter for the past five years.

  Andrea had never been able to carry child to term, so the couple made peace with not being parents in their youth. However, God blessed them with the privilege of meeting the brokenhearted young woman standing in front of him. Most of his peers would have cast her aside without hesitation, but he loved her as if his blood ran through her veins. Helping Muirigan rediscover the dignity the world’s cruelty robbed her of and watching her blossom before his eyes had been one of his life’s greatest joys.

  “You could never disappoint anyone, my little mermaid. You’re sweet, humble, and incredibly selfless in ways that most young women with your breeding aren’t,” the innkeeper countered. “I’ve always wondered at your preoccupation with the sea and the fact that you come alive whenever you’re near it. Now, I can see that God instilled that love in your heart so you could develop the might and skill necessary to save our prince’s life. You dove into the sea and overexerted yourself to rescue a man you’re terrified of facing, and you have the rope burn and weary eyes to prove it. If the prince expresses anything but gratitude to you, we should be disappointed in him.”

  Since Muirigan couldn’t bring herself to truly believe Christoffer’s heartfelt admonishment, she forced herself to meet his kind hazel eyes with a ghost of a smile.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I need to finish tending to my duties about the inn, so don’t worry about alerting me when His Highness’ escorts arrive.”

  “All right, sweetheart.”

  With her guardian’s approval, Muirigan slipped into the dining area to begin clearing away dishes and cleaning tables. For the next two hours, she passionately devoted herself to her duties as a maid. Muirigan picked up after guests, washed bedding, tended to the fire, and cleaned the kitchen until her physical exhaustion exceeded her emotional turmoil. As expected, the inn buzzed with activity and guests poked their heads outside of their rooms and windows when a carriage flanked by a dozen guards wearing blue and yellow Villriketian military uniforms arrived.

  Instead of satiating her own curiosity, Muirigan hid away in the guest room she was cleaning. From there, she peered out through the slightly ajar door as two men came to help Halvard to the carriage. The young prince initially refused to use their stretcher, but his protestation gave way to grudging compliance when he tried to stand on his own and lost his balance after a few shaky steps. Tucking away his injured pride, Halvard reclined on the stretcher and did his best to avoid acknowledging the voyeuristic crowd of commoners that gaped at him from their doorways.

  Once the men carried Halvard out of sight, Muirigan hastened to the window to make sure his voyage back to the royal palace began without incident. When the men transporting Halvard reached the carriage, one of them helped him stand up. As soon as the prince stood, he fixed his eyes on Muirigan. The maid froze—rendered immobile by fear as Halvard’s pained expression softened once more. He held her wide-eyed stare for several breaths before his escort urged him on. After giving Muirigan a slight bow, Halvard let the guard help him into the carriage.

  Within moments, the prince began his journey back to the safety and luxury of his palace in Havetkongen. Watching Halvard’s carriage depart, Muirigan prayed for a safe journey and a miraculous recovery. Only when the traveling party disappeared down the road did she turn from the window and resume her duties. However, no amount of scrubbing the Hansens’ newly purchased toilets could take her mind off the young prince.

  Reconnecting with her former friend would likely bring infinitely more humiliation than happiness, yet her rebellious, fluttering heart desired nothing more than to see him again.

  Chapter 2

  In the days that followed, Muirigan’s fear that Halvard would return to the inn invaded her every thought. Thankfully, her guardians’ constant encouragement eventu
ally helped Muirigan overcome her distress and take comfort in the normalcy of her life. The Tuesday after the prince’s departure, she finally visited the beach again. For over an hour, she washed away her fears and rediscovered shame in the peaceful strip of sand and sea that no one frequented but her.

  Once she finished her dip in the water, Muirigan felt invigorated and at ease. She picked up the women’s swimsuit Andrea gave her after the prince left, soaked it in the salty water, and pulled it on over the men’s swimwear she donned for her early morning swim. Upon making herself presentable by Andrea’s standards, Muirigan grabbed her discarded shoes and strolled back to the inn, humming a merry tune she once enjoyed playing on her parents’ piano.

  As she neared the business establishment she called home, Muirigan noticed an unusually elegant carriage parked in the front and Christoffer standing on the porch. After seeing her approach from afar, the innkeeper hurried over to her with his gray eyebrows drawn together in concern.

  “Lady Liesel Achterberg, the Countess of Vakrevet, is here to see you, Muirigan.”

  Muirigan’s tanned skin visibly blanched upon hearing Christoffer’s news, but she reminded herself that the countess could simply be delivering a reward for her unforeseen heroism. If the prince wanted to berate her for concealing her identity, he would have come himself or sent a more intimidating messenger. The queen’s closest friend and royal secretary visiting instead of armed guards was a blessing.

  Or at least that’s what she told herself.

  “All right. Please let her ladyship know that I will be down to speak with her as soon as I’m presentable,” she replied, her voice quaking despite her best efforts to appear composed. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  Christoffer nodded and gave Muirigan a pat on her shoulder before returning to his unexpected guest. Once the innkeeper disappeared inside the inn, the maid was tempted to hide at the beach or somewhere in town until the countess grew impatient and left. Yet she halfheartedly acknowledged that she couldn’t leave Christoffer and Andrea to contend with a high-ranking guest alone. If she did, they’d be shamed before the royal emissary, and she owed it to them to face the countess and preserve their honor … even if doing so brought her profound discomfort.