The Secret Princess

by Rachelle Mccalla

  She feared for Bertie’s safety. But the sobs that welled up in her chest, which she kept down with increasing difficulty, came from the knowledge that she’d brought trouble on Lydia. Her brother’s activities were forcing them to act, to face the Illyrians before Luke had conferred with King John about the best plan of action. What if a skirmish resulted? What if she brought war to this peaceful Christian kingdom?

  What if something happened to Prince Luke?

  Her heart tore at the thought, and she choked back the sob that threatened to escape her lips and echo through the night. The prince had only ever been kind to her. She deserved none of his attentions. Certainly she didn’t deserve his patience with her brother or the actions he took now to bring the boy back.

  Above all, she knew she didn’t deserve his affection, not when she’d kept the truth from him.

  The moon had risen high in the sky, its surface nearly round, its light brilliant as the silver beams lit their way, illuminating Prince Luke’s face with its gentle glow. Evelyn watched him ride, his brow knit with determination as he led his men bravely forth.

  The prince had said he wanted to woo her.

  She couldn’t comprehend it. Prince Luke could have had his pick of any woman in a hundred kingdoms, yet he chose to smile upon her. The memory of his kisses surged through her, warming her in spite of the cool of the night. She didn’t deserve the risks he’d taken on her behalf. Certainly she wasn’t worthy to be held by him, to be kissed by him.

  And yet she longed to kiss him again.

  Evelyn lifted her eyes to the great starry heavens above and prayed silently that God would forgive her for obscuring the truth, for letting her heart run away when she knew full well she ought to have restrained it, and for continuing to long for Luke’s affection even though she knew the two of them could not be together.

  * * *

  “Silently now. We may encounter a posted guard at any time.” Luke dismounted and tied his horse among the tree cover that would hide the animals, at least until broad daylight revealed their hiding place. He regretted that they’d not caught up to the boy, but he’d seen evidence of Bertie’s passage.

  According to the men at Sardis, the area had seen a gentle rain that morning. So, then, the hoofprints they’d followed were fresh, at least as fresh as that day. And Lydians knew better than to venture near the caves. The Illyrians wouldn’t have approached from the direction of Sardis, so the prints most likely belonged to Bertie. He couldn’t be too far ahead of them now.

  “We’ll follow the hoofmarks on foot.” Luke prayed the boy had not ridden much farther. His pale horse would be far too easy to spot on this moonlit night. If the Illyrians had Bertie, Luke didn’t know how he’d get him back. Evelyn would be heartbroken. He couldn’t bear the thought of bringing her sadness, not when he wanted only to make her happy, to make up for all the indignities she’d suffered during her enslavement to King Garren.

  Warrick appointed two of his men to lead. They’d visited the mines before and thus knew the layout of the Illyrian camps, as well as many of the men who encamped there. If they encountered a guard, they could likely get by without any trouble.

  Luke pulled Evelyn to his side as he traveled in the midst of the group. He needed to keep her as safe as he could, though in this unstable place, with any number of Illyrians hiding in the darkness, he could guarantee the safety of no one. The woman had dressed again in the woodman’s garb, and though she’d replaced the jeweled pins with fabric ties, she wore her hair up and back, away from her face, where it could be easily covered again with her hood. From a distance, to any Illyrian archer, she’d look like the rest of his men.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and he first thought she referred to the protective drape of his arm over her cloak. But then she added, “My brother’s rash choices have put you at risk more than once now.”

  He pressed his face close to hers, nudging aside her hood with his nose so he could whisper directly into her ear. “You have begged me many times not to hurt him. I pray my actions prove—”

  But before he could finish speaking, the Illyrians at the head of their party urged him forward earnestly.

  “See here.” One of Warrick’s men crouched near the ground, his fingers hovering just above the earth, tracing the outline of boot prints and hoofprints. “He dismounted and led his horse from this point.” The man nodded to Luke as he stood. “We must be getting closer.”

  Luke peered past them through the trees, which were dense in this part of the forest, where no Lydians ever ventured to cut them. The bright moonlight cut through the canopy in patches, and Luke caught sight of movement up ahead.

  “The horse?” He pointed to the pale form, barely visible through the trees. He didn’t want to leap out at the animal if it proved to be other than Bertie’s mount.

  Warrick and his men squinted in that direction.

  “The horse.” Warrick nodded to his men, and they led them toward the animal.

  Luke laced his fingers through Evelyn’s as he took her hand, keeping her close beside him in the uncertain terrain. They reached the horse a moment after Warrick’s men.

  Evelyn sucked in a breath, and her fingers tightened around his.

  “What is it?”

  “He left his pack.” Evelyn pointed to the horse’s back, which had been stripped of the bearskin, though the pack Bertie had returned to Fier to fetch still lay draped across the animal’s withers.

  “He can’t have gone far, then,” Luke guessed, and Evelyn nodded. He couldn’t help wondering what she must be thinking, or if she had any insight into why her brother had traveled to the mines at night. But the need for silence was greater than his curiosity, and the urgency of their mission meant there wasn’t time to stop to talk.

  While Luke peered through the dark woods for any sign of Bertie, his men crouched near the ground seeking footprints or any clue that would indicate where the boy had passed. Given the darkness, Luke didn’t expect them to find much, but shortly Dan tugged at his sleeve.

  “See here?” The soldier indicated a slight indentation in the mud.

  Luke recognized the size and shape of the print, which matched those they’d seen at the spot where the boy had dismounted from his horse. “Which way?” Luke whispered, aware they were getting quite close to the Illyrian encampment, and there were bound to be guards. Given the size of their party, they’d have to take every possible precaution if they hoped to go unnoticed.

  Dan scowled as he scanned the earth. Between the darkness and rocky ground, it was difficult to find any more footprints. And the longer he and his men shuffled about, the more likely they were to obscure those that might have been there.

  Warrick motioned to Luke from a spot closer to the caves. “This way.” He pointed toward the Illyrian encampment as Luke drew closer.

  A glint of metal caught Luke’s eye as he peered ahead in the direction Warrick indicated. His spine stiffened. He’d been wondering for some time what Bertie might have been thinking getting this close to the Illyrian encampment, and now the precariousness of his position hit him full force.

  What if it was a trap? He’d ridden into a known point of Illyrian concentration with Illyrians in his midst. Indeed, not counting Evelyn, who as of the day before had been a member of Garren’s household, Luke and his men were three...against untold numbers of Illyrians.

  And there was no sign of the boy. If Bertie was indeed out there, he might easily have been drawn into the plot by any of Warrick’s men.

  “We should creep closer,” Warrick suggested. “Why don’t you go? The boy might recognize you and show himself, whereas if he sees my men, that would only push him deeper into hiding.”

  Luke stared ahead at the Illyrian encampment as Warrick spoke. Why would the Illyrian prince suggest the Lydian heir venture alone into an Illyrian c
amp with his enemies encircling him on every side?

  “No,” Luke said firmly. “We shall fall back and wait for daylight.”

  “Why? We’re this close.” Warrick looked perplexed.

  The prince’s words only solidified Luke’s decision. Why should Warrick protest—unless he had some ulterior motive?

  “The boy won’t venture far from his horse. We’ll wait here. He’ll be back soon enough.”

  Warrick’s expression hardened, but he didn’t argue with Luke, simply fell back silently after him as he crept back toward where Bertie had tied his horse. Luke interpreted the prince’s displeasure as a sign that his fears might be correct. Had Warrick contrived this situation to lure Luke away from the safety of Sardis?

  From an Illyrian standpoint, Warrick’s plan would make sense—too much sense, really. With Luke dead, Warrick could marry Elisabette, kill off King John and declare himself king of Lydia by virtue of his bride. Prince Mark was all the time away at sea and could be dealt with the moment his ship docked off Castlehead. Warrick wouldn’t know about the child Queen Gisela carried—no formal announcement had yet been made, and anyway, what was to prevent Warrick from killing the pregnant queen, as well?

  And Luke had always been the soldier prince. Warrick would find far less resistance to his plans if he eliminated Luke first.

  Dan stepped close to Luke as he reached the men. Luke met his eyes and saw a message there. Warning? Concern? He wouldn’t know for sure until he could speak with the soldier alone.

  “We’ll stay here and wait for the boy to return,” Luke announced quietly.

  Evelyn looked disappointed, possibly even distraught, and glanced at Warrick.

  Why?

  Luke followed her gaze. Was there something going on between those two? Was Evelyn in on Warrick’s plans? Had she plotted to betray him? He wanted to dismiss the thought, but too much about it fit. Evelyn was, after all, a member of Warrick’s household. And the Illyrian prince had hardly raised an eyebrow at the sight of Evelyn dressed in royal garb.

  Why not?

  Dan leaned close to Luke. “I fear treachery,” he whispered.

  Luke drew back just far enough to meet the soldier’s eyes and nodded slightly. Then he addressed the rest of those gathered around. “Dan and I shall circle around this way a bit. Sacha, you stay here with Evelyn. Warrick, you and your men may circle around the other direction if you like, but above all else, don’t give away our presence.”

  Warrick nodded, and though he still looked stern faced, he led his men slowly around the way Luke had indicated.

  Once Luke and Dan were out of earshot, Dan whispered, “I saw the woman, Evelyn, and her brother, Bertie, speaking with Prince Warrick in the doorway of his chamber just before dinner.”

  Luke felt his heart nearly stop with alarm. Was Evelyn part of the plot against him? He hated to think she might be, and yet...

  “I couldn’t hear their words,” Dan continued, “but the boy was near tears, and Evelyn appeared to be pleading with Prince Warrick. I would have told you sooner, but at the time I thought it must be some personal matter, with them being slaves in his father’s household and escaped to Lydia and all that. But now we find ourselves lured, as it were, into a trap of sorts.”

  “I agree, Dan.” Luke swallowed past a hard lump that had formed in his throat. What had Evelyn said to Warrick? Luke couldn’t imagine that the Illyrian prince would give the slave audience unless something was afoot.

  But if the Illyrians were scheming against him, why had Evelyn been pleading? Had Warrick entangled the siblings in his plans against their will? Was Evelyn only reluctantly involved? Too many times her heartfelt words had been interrupted. Would she have warned him if she could?

  Luke wanted to believe Evelyn was on his side, but just as surely, he knew his feelings for her bent his sympathies. The risks were far too great for him to follow his heart on the matter. If he let the woman blind him to the trap laid all about them, all of Lydia would be in peril, including his brother and the pregnant queen.

  “We must fall back to Sardis.” Luke posed his plan thoughtfully. “But we can’t let on to Warrick what we’re doing, or he and his men will surely pounce. We’re greatly outnumbered. Oh, how did I let this befall us?”

  “I didn’t see it until now, either, Highness. There’s nothing to be done now but to get out any way we can.”

  His mind nearly made up, Luke turned to head back to the spot where he’d left Evelyn when Dan’s next words froze him in his tracks.

  “What of the woman? Evelyn?”

  “What of her?”

  “Is she to return with us or stay here?”

  Luke exhaled with a low moan. He wanted her to stay with him, preferably in his arms, at his side, where he could hold her close and keep her safe.

  If Evelyn was working with Warrick, Luke ought to leave her behind. But if she’d pleaded with the Illyrian for Luke’s sake, then perhaps she was only a victim of the situation and could indeed be trusted after all. One thing was certain. Luke wished he hadn’t kissed her, because it only confused the matter with feelings.

  He had to believe she was on his side, whatever her involvement might be. She’d kissed him with too much affection for him to believe she truly wanted him dead.

  “She’ll come with us,” Luke decided.

  Dan’s eyes widened, but he didn’t protest Luke’s command.

  When they reached Sacha and Evelyn, they found Warrick had taken his men some distance around in the other direction. Luke felt the urgency of their situation. Now was their chance. If Warrick returned before they got away, they might never escape.

  “Come. This way.” Luke took Evelyn’s hand and led her back past Bertie’s horse.

  “Where are we going?” she asked after they’d gone some distance past the horse toward Sardis.

  Luke was reluctant to tell her, but she surely suspected already, and perhaps if he watched her closely while he explained his plan, he might get some clue about her position on the matter.

  “We’re headed back to Sardis.”

  Evelyn stopped still in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Without Bertie?” She managed to keep her voice down, but she stared at him pleadingly. “We’ve come all this way.”

  Dan cleared his throat.

  Luke realized that if he didn’t speak soon, his men would tell Evelyn. So he swallowed back his hesitation. “We fear a trap.”

  Evelyn hung her head, her face cast in too much shadow for Luke to guess her feelings or interpret her involvement. Finally she looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ll stay behind.” She slipped her hand free of his.

  It took Luke a long moment to get over his disappointment enough to realize Evelyn’s plan was for the best. He’d offered to protect her. She’d turned him down. Why? Out of guilt, or disappointment that he’d seen through the trap? He wished there was time to discuss the matter, but he’d had trouble enough prompting her to speak of her past. There wasn’t nearly time for him to try to wrest the truth from her now.

  Besides, duty bound him to protect his kingdom, not this Illyrian slave, no matter what his feelings were for her. Still, disappointment gnawed at him that she’d chosen to part ways with him.

  “We’d best keep moving,” Sacha urged him, his gaze directed through the trees. “Warrick and his men have turned back toward where we left the horse.”

  They had no choice but to hurry. Luke bent his head and whispered to Evelyn, “Return to Sardis with your brother if you can. I’ll leave instructions there for your care. I must go on to Castlehead.”

  “Godspeed,” Evelyn whispered.

  “Make haste, Your Highness,” Dan urged. “I hear horses. The Illyrians may be surrounding us even now.”

  Fear shot through him, enough to force Luke to p
ull away from Evelyn and leave her behind, though he wanted very much to kiss her goodbye. “To the horses,” he told his men.

  They hastened to the spot where they’d left the animals, passing through the thickest part of the woods to where the trees became wider spaced nearer the path by which they’d traveled. The night had lengthened and the moon stood high and bright above them, shining down from a cloudless sky. The light was enough to illuminate the path clearly.

  And just as clearly, Luke saw as they burst through the trees, his horses were not alone. They were surrounded by Illyrian warhorses led by Omar.

  And King Garren.

  King Garren spoke. “Stop there if you wish to live.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evelyn stared after Prince Luke as he walked away from her and disappeared into the dark woods. She felt her heart tear within her chest. What had he meant by his words? He feared a trap—what sort of trap? She wanted to run after him, to learn what he feared and protect him in some way, but at the same time her brother was somewhere behind her amid the dangers of the mines.

  How could she choose between Luke and her brother? If she went after the prince, what would happen to Bertie? And yet if she let Prince Luke walk away, when would she see him again? He’d looked at her so strangely as he’d spoken of his fears. She couldn’t say for certain what he’d meant by that look. It was too dark out, and she’d never seen quite that expression on his face before, but it didn’t sit well with her, and she wished for some reassurance that he wasn’t upset with her. She felt as though her heart might break if he was.

  Even still, she told herself it didn’t matter. At best, Luke might help her and Bertie get closer to Aachen. At worst, he’d kill them both. She needed to remember there could never be anything between them, no matter how much the memory of his kisses compelled her to run after him or how much she wished she could accept his offer to woo her.

  Her place was with her brother. How many times had her father, and even her mother so long ago, told her to look after Bertie? She had a responsibility. Bertie was the only family member she had left, save for grandparents far away and King Garren, who only claimed her when it was expedient for him.