by Kristen Reed
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Viggo interjected.
“Please let me finish, Your Majesty,” she begged. “I know that you owe me nothing after I’ve deceived you, but I must tell the entire truth.”
The king gestured for Muirigan to speak. She faced Halvard and continued her story, trying not to shrink away under the livid prince’s glower.
“Five years ago, a man beat me badly. As I ran away from him, I collided with Christoffer and Andrea Hansen. They took me in, nursed me back to health, and gave me a chance to support myself without sacrificing my dignity. When I rescued you, I couldn’t fathom telling you the truth, but my recent dishonesty is just as sinful as my past transgressions. There’s no excuse for my lies. Will you forgive me?”
A hush fell upon the solemn assembly as Muirigan and the others waited expectantly for Halvard’s response. With every silent second, she begged God to soften the prince’s heart and inspire compassion rather than fury. After several tense heartbeats, Halvard finally opened his mouth to speak, and Muirigan held her breath in anticipation of his response.
“Leave the palace immediately.”
“Halvard, it’s not safe—”
Without turning his eyes from Muirigan, Halvard held up his hand and silenced Ingrid.
“I don’t care whether you go back to the inn or to the streets, but you are no longer welcome here,” he continued. “You’ve lied to all of us, and I will not subject anyone to your treachery anymore. If I ever see you at court again, I will have you arrested, and don’t even think about keeping my sister-in-law’s dress or her jewels. Those were meant for the honest maid who saved my life, not a liar who abused my gratitude.”
Muirigan didn’t even bother wiping away the tears that streamed down her flushed cheeks as she removed the necklace and earrings. She held them out to the prince, and he plucked them from her palm, not letting his hand linger on hers for longer than required. Though she still bore the bruises from her earlier interaction with Torvald, Halvard’s evasive act and sharp words pierced her soul far more than the count’s violence.
“I will escort the whore to her room and make sure she doesn’t steal anything,” Torvald volunteered.
“That won’t be necessary,” Viggo said. “Return to the ball and do not repeat this matter to anyone. If word about this gets out, we’ll know exactly who to blame.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The count bowed and exited the room, and Muirigan instinctively recoiled when he passed. Once Torvald was gone, she addressed the three royals once more, her soft voice barely audible above the revelry across the hall.
“Thank you for your undeserved mercy and hospitality. I am truly sorry for deceiving you, and I will leave with no more than what I came with before the hour is over.”
The instant Muirigan left the room, the queen moved from her husband’s side to close the door behind the maid. The loud thud and click resounded with a heartbreaking finality. A chill ran through Muirigan’s body and she hugged her arms to herself, remembering both the count’s hands on her in that same room earlier in the day and the way Halvard had immediately distanced himself from her upon learning the truth about her past and present sins.
As Muirigan moved through the palace, the gravity of all of her mistakes weighed on her weary shoulders. Despite Torvald’s retaliation, Muirigan knew that she had no one to blame but herself, and the mirthful sounds of the ball echoing down the corridor called to mind the acceptance and redemption that she enjoyed barely a taste of before her own folly ripped it from her hands.
Trudging to her room, Muirigan asked God to fill her bereft soul with the hope required to heal not from bruises inflicted by a cruel man’s hands but from the agony of a broken heart inspired by a wronged prince’s righteous anger.
After shedding the fair-haired queen’s luxurious clothes, Muirigan slipped into one of her unimpressive dresses. Without delay, she threw the few belongings she brought to the palace into her bag and slipped out of the palace through the servants’ entrance. Upon reaching the stables, the maid found a servant already preparing to walk her horse to the palace.
Muirigan wasted no time mounting the horse and beginning her journey back to the Hansens’ inn. Though she would have felt confident riding back to her humble seaside home alone by daylight, fear crept into her heart as the ball’s merry music diminished with every miserable minute. The only sounds Muirigan heard as she moved deeper into the forest were leaves quietly crunching under her horse’s hooves, owls hooting in the moonlight, and nocturnal creatures scurrying in the underbrush.
Once she crossed the river that marked the halfway point between the palace and the inn, her ears pricked up. Something much larger than mice was moving through the darkness. Muirigan stopped for a moment, straining to discern the source of the sound, but silence descended again the instant she halted her journey. When she ventured forward a few feet, the sound began again. Whoever was traveling that night clearly wanted to remain undetected.
And Muirigan needed to evade the scoundrel at all costs.
In an instant, Muirigan spurred her horse on from an easy trot into a fierce gallop and took off down the road. The sound of multiple horses’ hooves pounding against the soft ground roared in her ears. Though she kept her eyes focused ahead, men on horseback riding through the trees on either side of her came into view. Suddenly wishing that she had the presence of mind to camp out near the palace instead of venturing into the darkness alone, Muirigan begged for God to protect her from the nefarious bandits.
Muirigan’s pursuers broke through the tree line and intensified their hunt. Her heart sank when she saw that she wasn’t being chased by one or two men but by five hooded blackguards.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” one ordered, leveling a revolver at her.
Muirigan reluctantly forced her horse to come to a halt, but her mind still raced and her deafening heartbeat drowned out the woods’ once peaceful nocturnal melody. The robbers had been wise in monitoring the road that the royal family’s guests would be traveling for the ball. Yet they chose a poor target in a downtrodden servant whose pockets were as empty as her heart was broken.
“I don’t have anything to give you but patched up clothing and a few measly krones,” she quaked. “I’m a poor maid not a noblewoman.”
“That may be, but you’re the poor maid we were asked to apprehend.”
Did the king decide to have me arrested?
“On whose authority?” she asked.
“The Count of Alfhilde.”
Muirigan’s face blanched and her mouth parched. If the she’d married the despicable count, she would have been miserable for the rest of her life. Still, their acquaintances at court and the Hansens might have kept him in check. However, as Torvald’s captive, no one would know how he treated her, and he wouldn’t suffer any consequences for his wickedness.
Torvald would be able to do whatever he wanted.
“No … I can’t … Please don’t do this,” she panted. “You don’t know what kind of man he is!”
“We know that he pays well. Now, come with—”
Sensing Muirigan’s distress, her horse bolted down the road again. The count’s men spurred on their steeds and gave chase, but their pursuit barely lasted a minute.
A gunshot rang out in the night as soon as the first man could aim his revolver. The bullet hit Muirigan’s horse in his left hind leg, and the animal violently tumbled to the ground, throwing her from his back as he fell. The maid landed several yards away, hitting her head on a tree’s gnarled root. Before Muirigan could gather her wits about her, impenetrable darkness swallowed up the world, leaving her utterly defenseless to prevent her own abduction.
Chapter 7
Agony assaulted Muirigan’s senses before she even opened her eyes. Though she was tempted to surrender to her lethargy and escape her pain by drifting off again, the maid was determined to rouse from her unwanted, unnatural slumber.
Pushing herself into a sitting position, Muirigan squinted at the dark room. Uneasy as she felt, Muirigan was grateful that Torvald’s henchman at least dumped her in a bedroom as opposed to somewhere foul and uncomfortable.
Muirigan climbed out of the bed and stumbled into the wall, groaning as the throbbing in her head worsened. Instead of attempting to make her way to the door, which seemed torturously far away, she turned to the window and cast her eyes downward.
Groaning inwardly, her spirits sank upon seeing that she was far too high off the ground to jump or climb down without harming herself. They lowered even more when she realized that it was too dark for her to discern any landmarks in the distance. While it was entirely possible that the count had her delivered to his home in Alfhilde, she also knew that he owned several other properties in Villriket.
And no one would be searching for her at any of them.
God help me, she begged, struggling for air as she fought the panic that threatened to devour her. Please don’t leave me at this man’s mercy!
Soft footsteps silenced Muirigan’s prayers, and she frantically glanced around the room for anything she could use as a weapon. Her darting eyes settled on a hand painted vase filled with roses. Lord Torvald had evidently forgotten her feistiness when he chose her gilded cage, and she silently thanked God for his absentmindedness.
Not wanting the nefarious nobleman to corner her, Muirigan staggered to the center of the bedroom and stood her ground with the vase behind her. If the Count of Alfhilde insisted on hurting her again, she wouldn’t be the only one walking away from their encounter in pain. When the door opened, Muirigan stiffened in anticipation of her confrontation with the count, but her aggression turned into bewilderment when a stranger entered.
The shadow-shrouded man began to speak, but Muirigan closed her ears to his lies. Nothing he said would convince her to make peace with being the count’s captive. Instead, her eyes swept over him from head to foot to see if he carried a gun like Torvald’s other men had. The instant she ascertained that the henchman was unarmed, Muirigan summoned the little strength she had, hurled the vase in his direction, and clumsily sprinted for the door.
The maid darted into the hallway and swayed as the brilliant lights stung her eyes and bile rose in her throat. Swearing at the electric lighting under her breath, Muirigan threw her arm over her eyes and attempted to stumble down the hall. Fixing her eyes on the ground, she blinked constantly in an effort to shake her accursed double vision.
I’ll never escape at this rate, she feared. I’ll be trapped here forever!
When the low rumble of masculine voices ahead reached Muirigan’s ears, she whirled around, hoping with her whole heart that she could find a way to escape before she was apprehended. Unluckily, one booming voice rang out more clearly than the others.
“Get her back in that room!”
Desperation filling her thundering heart, Muirigan scrambled down the hallway, focusing on her feet and the midnight blue carpet. Unfortunately, in casting her eyes downward, she failed to notice someone standing in her path. By the time the man’s boots came into view, Muirigan had drawn too close to evade her captor. A pair of strong hands seized her arms, and a sob escaped her parched throat as utter hopelessness overwhelmed her.
“Please let me go! Don’t make me do this. I swear I—”
“Muirigan.”
Slowly lifting her eyes from the ground, she beheld Halvard standing before her and swayed both from shock and genuine dizziness. Before Muirigan could lose her footing, the prince swept her into his arms. With little effort, he carried her back into the room as several whispering servants watched from down the corridor. Though Muirigan’s head swam with pain and confusion, she felt secure in the prince’s strong arms. A million questions passed through her mind, but she could scarcely grasp one inquiry long enough to put her thoughts into words.
Once inside the room, Halvard gently set Muirigan on the bed and stepped back. He watched her from several yards away, stroking his chin and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The man she hurled the vase at came forward and introduced himself as the royal physician, Dr. Nilsen. The wizened man began to examine Muirigan, so she tore her gaze away from Halvard to answer his diagnostic questions. His relentless scrutiny exhausted her, but the skilled practitioner eventually withdrew, satisfied with his analysis of her symptoms. He joined Halvard on the other side of the room and quietly divulged his findings. After delivering his hushed report, the doctor bowed and exited the room, leaving the two childhood friends alone.
Halvard took a seat beside Muirigan’s bed, but the maid’s heavy eyelids lowered and shut out the world before either of them could utter a word.
Muirigan’s heart swelled with gratitude the next morning upon realizing that someone had the presence of mind to shut out the bright sunlight. However, her spirits sank when she saw that Halvard no longer occupied the chair beside her. Though the prince had been tender toward her the night before, he no doubt felt as if he’d performed his duty and was no longer needed.
But I’m safe, she reminded herself. God, I don’t know who saved me from Torvald or how, but thank you for sending me a savior.
Whether the royal family allowed her to remain in the palace until she was fully restored or sent her on her way back to the Hansens in the next hour, she was grateful for their intervention. She violated their trust and abused their hospitality. Despite her duplicity, they ensured that a doctor examined her and provided another comfortable room where she could rest in lieu of casting her out. Halvard threatened to arrest her if she returned, but he demonstrated compassion in her moment of need instead of derision. While she mourned being separated from him again upon her likely imminent departure, Muirigan thanked the Lord for giving her such magnanimous rulers.
As Muirigan considered how blessed she and the people of Villriket were, a familiar face appeared in the door.
“How are you feeling?” Liesel inquired.
“Grateful, my lady. Not just to be safe, but that you would even deign to speak with me.”
The countess stepped into the room shaking her head and sat in Halvard’s empty seat.
“Of course I would speak with you!”
“Do you know what happened at the ball last night?”
“Yes, but I’m not angry with you. I’ve borne the weight of other people’s judgment enough to understand why you would want to conceal your past. My skin tells my story to the world before I open my mouth. While I’m not ashamed of being born a slave or the way I look, I know people look down on me for it. They’ll smile and compliment me to my face when our paths cross, but I seldom receive personal invitations. I can understand why you hid the truth if you feared the same treatment.”
Muirigan’s mind turned back to their afternoon on the beach and she remembered Lisbet’s coldness toward Liesel. She assumed that Torvald’s daughter was in the minority in terms of her rudeness. It grieved her to hear that she was just one of many who spurned the beautiful countess.
“I’m sorry … I knew there were still some small minded people in Villriket, but I didn’t realize how greatly their prejudice affected you even with your new position.”
“Well, I know I can’t change their hearts, so I rarely speak about it. I don’t want to soil Ingrid’s opinions of her friends, but I’ll speak freely if she asks me about a person or situation directly.”
“How does she respond when you tell her these things?”
Liesel’s full lips curved into an amused smile.
“The queen is quite passionate about standing up for what’s right. She usually gets riled up and starts trying to think of ways to help … enlighten the other courtiers. Ingrid had a similar reaction after you left last night.”
“How so?”
“She and the king both rebuked Halvard for being so harsh to you, but he stormed away before they could finish. We thought he fled somewhere else on the property to cool off since
he was absent for the remainder of the ball. I’m sure you can imagine how perplexed we were when he returned carrying you and shouting for Dr. Nilsen.”
“The prince saved me?”
“Yes, but I haven’t spoken with him since he returned. I halfway expected to find him in here, but I suppose he finally found a bed to sleep in.”
Muirigan furrowed her brow, so Liesel pressed on to alleviate her confusion.
“Halvard brought you straight to his room when he came back last night. He insisted that you not be moved until you were well enough to walk on your own. I’ve never seen him so worried before.”
The maid tore her eyes away from Liesel to take in the room with fresh eyes. Though the bedchamber was as refined as the others in the palace, she picked up on a few telltale details. Halvard’s jacket from the night before was haphazardly draped over a table, shaving tools sat atop the dresser, and a masculine scent clung to the sheets, indicating that a male tenant usually slumbered in them. Muirigan had never seen or entered any man’s private bedchamber when she resided in the palace, so lying in the same bed where Halvard slept felt extremely odd … and surprisingly comforting.
“I was able to walk last night, so I’m well enough to move into another room. I’d rather not inconvenience him.”
“You aren’t inconveniencing anyone. Trust me.”
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Muirigan’s pulse accelerated at the prospect of facing Halvard. However, a servant appeared at the door with breakfast instead. Liesel waved the woman in and insisted on staying to keep Muirigan company and ensure that she ate. She had no trouble consuming the ham, eggs, fruits, and bread, but she couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy the delectable meal.
Why did Halvard come for me? Did he realize what Torvald planned to do?
When a clock chimed in the hallway, Liesel left Muirigan’s side for an appointment with the royal treasurer, vowing to return once it concluded. After polishing off her breakfast, Muirigan was eager to get on her feet even if only for a moment. The maid took her time standing up and steadied herself against the bed’s artfully carved poster when a wave of dizziness crashed against her. Thankfully, she felt secure enough to move away from the bed after closing her eyes for a spell.
