Lady Gwyneth's Hope (Ladies of Ardena Book 4)

by Rachel Skatvold

  Gwyn had tried to remain strong and not cry in the presence of her enemies—tried not to show weakness. Yet, now her resolve started to crumble.

  She looked up, recognizing tenderness in Lorcan’s gaze and began to weep. He truly did love her. She knew that now, but had he really ordered his men to murder Tristan? Was that why he hadn’t come to rescue her?

  As the priest started the ceremony, Gwyn felt as though she were falling—spiraling down deeper and deeper into a dark abyss she’d never escape from. From now on, she would spend life there—spend it as a captive and bargaining piece for Fergus. She knew what he said about occupying the southern part of Daireann was only the beginning. Soon enough, he would want it all. He would consume her beloved kingdom and oppress her people for generations to come.

  Lorcan started saying his vows, bringing Gwyn out of her troubled thoughts. “I, Lorcan of Beibhinn, take you, Gwyneth…” He paused and wiped a few tears from her cheek, his eyes filled with sadness. “Milady, I apologize for bringing you so much grief. I promise to never be the cause of your tears again.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “The honorable thing for once.”

  “What is this nonsense?” Fergus growled from close by. “Proceed with the ceremony at once or there will be consequences.”

  Lorcan ignored his king and leaned down to kiss Gwyn’s forehead instead. “I will defend you with my life, Milady.” He smiled at her and then turned toward Fergus, drawing his sword. “I realize now, what you are doing is evil. I will no longer serve you.”

  “You would dare to defy your king?”

  “You are only a pretender and a usurper. I do not know why I chose to follow you.” He turned to his men standing nearby. “Listen to me. All of you. If we continue to do this man’s bidding, there will never be peace. We do not fight for a cause under his reign. He only brings destruction and chaos. Join me in fighting against this tyranny.” Gwyneth held her breath as the men considered his words. Then, one by one, about six of them crossed over to stand by his side. She recognized them as his countrymen from Beibhinn.

  Fergus grew red in the face, observing their change in loyalty. “You fools have signed your own death warrants.” He turned to his own soldiers, numbering about ten and lifted his hand. “Kill them. All of them.”

  Gwyn watched in horror as the fighting commenced. Not having a weapon, she could only move out of the way, feeling helpless.

  Lorcan was fierce in battle, already slaying two of Fergus’ guards only half a minute into the battle. He lifted a sword from one of the fallen and began double wielding. Using this technique with two swords, he was able to fight two men at once.

  Gwyn was so distracted she didn’t notice a man coming at her from the side, until he had almost grabbed her. Lorcan was there in an instant, slaying the man before he had the chance. He stood with a protective stance beside her. “Are you all right, Milady? Do you know how to use a sword?”

  “No, but I am skilled with a dagger.” He slipped one from his belt and gave it to her before rushing to defeat another approaching enemy.

  Gwyn hid the dagger within the fold of her sleeve and backed up, trying to hide in the shadows, but she heard crumbling rock and paused. It was so brief she couldn’t tell which direction it came from.

  “Gwyneth!” a familiar voice called, echoing faintly above the sound of the rushing water. “Watch out!”

  “Tristan?” Her eyes scanned the cavern walls, where the voice had come from, but to no avail.

  While distracted, strong arms gripped her from behind and the man held a dagger to her throat. “I should have demanded your assassination when I had the chance, Milady. You’re far more trouble than you are worth.”

  Gwyn shuddered, feeling Fergus’ hot breath against her neck. “You will not win this time.”

  He released a sardonic chuckle and held the blade tighter against her throat. “You’re wrong, Milady. One day, Ardena will be mine. All of it. There is nothing you can do to stop the inevitable.”

  Images flashed through Gwyn’s mind—images of her family, Isla and Tristan. Fergus posed a danger to everyone she loved. She felt the handle of the dagger in her hand one moment and in the next, it was lodged underneath the usurper’s ribs.

  A gasp escaped his mouth as he dropped the blade and loosened his hold on her waist before falling to the ground. Gwyneth’s world became hazy as she turned and stared at Fergus’ motionless body lying on the stone floor of the cavern. Numbness overtook her as the sights and sounds blurred together. She stumbled back toward the water—away from the man she had just slain.

  “Gwyneth…” a voice called through the haze. “Gwyneth, are you all right?” Two hands gripped her shoulders, preventing her from slipping over the edge, into the rushing current.

  “I killed him,” she murmured, looking up into Lorcan’s eyes.

  “You had no choice. He would have killed you and then your family.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe now. It’s over.”

  Gwyn leaned against his shoulder, drawing in a few ragged breaths. She had started to come out of her fog when noticing a shadow out of the corner of her eye.

  Lorcan’s body lurched forward and a groan of pain escaped his lips. As his knees buckled, she tried to hold onto him, but his weight threw her off balance. Time slowed as they fell backward, still clinging to each other.

  She glanced over Lorcan’s shoulder as the piercing jade eyes of Lady Kyna came into view. Fergus’ widow smiled at her, holding a crimson-stained blade in her hand. Then Gwyn saw nothing except white bubbles as the icy water stung her skin like a million needles. She struggled to hold onto Lorcan while fighting to reach the surface to breathe. When her head emerged, the white had cut to black as the rapids sucked them deeper into the dark cavern. She gasped desperately for a breath of air before the current pulled her under again.

  Gwyn knew letting go of Lorcan would allow her to swim more efficiently, but couldn’t make herself do it. He had risked his life to save her and paid dearly for it. She owed it to him to hold on as long as she could.

  She managed to pull them both up to the surface one last time for a breath. Then a light appeared ahead. The moon. It felt like an eternity since she’d seen it and now it looked heavenly, like a beacon calling her home. They were so close she could have touched it.

  Then they were falling straight down—forever it seemed—amongst the droplets of water. It was a serene experience, like flying. Gwyneth didn’t feel any fear—only an odd sense of euphoria—but it didn’t last long.

  The moon hid behind a cloud as their freefall ended abruptly. The water from below rose to meet them, punching the air from her lungs with the impact. Pain surged through her body and then panic set in. She’d lost Lorcan’s hand after falling, but that was the least of her worries. The water was pitch-black. Gwyn couldn’t tell which way would bring her to the surface.

  Lungs burning, she felt the relentless undercurrent, pulling and twisting her around, like tentacles of a ferocious sea creature from a story her elder sister had read to her as a child. In an instant, Gwyn knew it was the force from the waterfall, sucking her downward. She kicked hard, away from the current, praying her instincts were correct. The tentacles refused to release her at first, pulling with more intensity, but Gwyn didn’t give in. She pumped her legs and arms even harder. Then it finally released her.

  With hardly any strength left, she swam with the gentler current of the river, allowing it to carry her away from the danger. When her head emerged from the surface, Gwyn gasped for a precious breath of air, coughing and sputtering when some water came with it.

  The moon peeked through the clouds again, revealing the outline of a small sandbar. Using her last reserve of strength, Gwyn swam toward the welcome sight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Lost

  Tristan rushed through the dark passage, not even thinking about the possible danger awaiting him. He could o
nly pray by some miracle it led further downstream. Perhaps Gwyneth could still be saved if he could reach her in time.

  “Your Majesty, wait,” one of his men called from behind, desperately trying to catch up.

  Tristan ignored him and wiped moisture dripping down his face. Perhaps there was water in the cave dripping onto him. Then he realized it wasn’t water from the cave, but his own tears. He’d just witnessed the woman he loved be swept away to an almost certain death. God please. I cannot lose her. I’ll not survive it.

  The desperate prayer sounded pitiful to Tristan, but he couldn’t help it. They’d been through so much—fought so hard to be together and now their future was crumbling to pieces before his eyes.

  His mind flashed back to the scene that had played out moments ago. Tristan had turned away as Lorcan and Gwyneth prepared to say their vows. Even though he knew she’d been forced into the marriage, it still shattered his heart—bringing back memories of when Airell had chosen her captor over him. Would the same happen with Gwyneth? Had she fallen for Lorcan during her captivity? Tristan was about to walk away when he heard the sound of clashing swords.

  “Milord, it appears Lorcan is opposing Fergus,” one of his men said.

  He whipped around to look, shocked at the sight before him. It was true. Lorcan was fighting Fergus’ men and had a few followers doing the same. Gwyn looked safe for the time being, but he couldn’t rely on it staying that way. “They need help,” he said. “Come, let’s make haste.” The moment he stepped forward, the ledge gave way, sending him slipping off.

  One of his men grabbed his hand. “Hold on, Your Majesty,” he said and pulled him back to the stable section of the ledge.

  Tristan thanked his friend and sat next to him for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Then as he looked to his left, the reality sunk in. There was a large gap where part of the ledge used to be. They wouldn’t be able to reach the ladder in time to help Gwyneth. They had to find another way down.

  They headed the opposite direction, toward a dark, narrow passage. He wasn’t sure where it led, but there was only one way to discover the answer. Tristan turned back one more time before heading into the passageway with his men. To his horror, Fergus was hiding by the shadows, dangerously close to his betrothed. “Gwyneth! Watch out!”

  It was too late.

  Tristan watched helplessly as Fergus held a blade to Gwyneth’s throat, but the usurper fell dead at her feet a few moments later. He sighed in relief, realizing she was safe, only for the unthinkable to happen a moment later. As Lorcan comforted Gwyneth, Lady Kyna rushed forward and stabbed Lorcan in the back. Then he fell into the rushing water, taking Gwyneth with him.

  “No!” Tristan shouted, returning to the present. He shouldn’t have waited. He should have rushed into the cavern to save her in spite of his low number of men. At least then he would have known with his dying breath, he did everything in his power to save her.

  Tristan wasn’t sure how long he traveled by torchlight. Time seemed to blur together, but soon a dim light appeared in the distance and the sound of water grew louder. “Gwyneth!” he cried, bursting into the open air.

  The light had been the moon, but as soon as he saw it fully, it hid behind the clouds again, abandoning him in the dark. Tristan turned to his left and saw the top of the rushing waterfall twenty feet below. “No…hold on…I can still save you,” he cried while ripping off his monk garb and removing his boots.

  Two of his men grabbed him by the arms before he could leap off the cliff. “Milord, we implore you not to do this.”

  “Release me!” he cried. “I can find her. I can save her. Please.”

  “No, Your Majesty. The princess is gone, but we cannot lose you, too.”

  As they dragged him away from the edge, Tristan collapsed, crumbling to his knees on the cold stone, lost in his grief. “I’m sorry, Gwyneth,” he sobbed. “My love…I’m so sorry. I have failed you.”

  Leland and his men moved through the dark alleys of the castle grounds as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. His heart pounded, not wanting to let Isla out of his sight, but knowing they couldn’t make it to the harbor without going back through the gate. The regular guards had been knocked out by Tristan’s men and were tied up, so he ordered some of his men to stay behind with them to open the gate for them when they returned. It was a risk leaving Tristan, but he hoped his cousin would meet up with the small group of men he had left behind.

  Once outside the gates, Leland and about a dozen of his men had to go through the village before reaching the harbor. Since the hour was late, there were not very many people out on the streets to slow them down, but taking the rocky path weaving through the buildings seemed painstakingly slow. He could only pray they made it in time to rescue his sister.

  By the time they reached the harbor, about half an hour had passed and all was an eerie quiet. Leland and his men snuck onto the merchant ship on the far left. They were able to subdue two lookouts on the deck. Then assuming most of the men were asleep, Leland ordered half of his men to stay above deck while the rest went down the ladder with him in search of Isla.

  It was a slow process—inching along the creaky floorboards in the dim candlelight. They reached the crew’s sleeping quarters first, wedging the door open ever so slightly to not wake them. When nothing was seen there, they went on a little further to the cargo hold.

  After weaving around barrels of food and supplies, Leland heard a whimper in the corner. Holding the candle toward the sound, he spotted his sister. Isla had her mouth gagged and her arms and legs bound with rope. Leland rushed to free her, relief filling his soul.

  When the gag was removed and her hands free, she hugged him around the neck. “I feared I’d never see you again, Brother.”

  He held her close, weeping tears of joy and then started working to cut the rope around her legs. “I could never abandon you. I would have never stopped searching until you were found. Do you know where they are keeping Lady Gwyneth?”

  “No, we were separated.” Isla sniffled. “I don’t know where they have taken her.”

  He stroked her cheek. “It will be all right. We’ll find her too, but first we must find a way off this ship. Do you have the strength to walk?”

  “Aye, I think so.”

  He helped his sister up and they quietly made their way back through the ship to the ladder with the rest of his men. They were halfway up, with Isla a few rungs below him, when commotion erupted from the deck above. Leland paused to listen, hearing the crew start to awaken from the noise.

  They climbed up the rest of the way and hid behind some barrels. He knelt by his sister and whispered instructions. “My men and I will draw them away from you. Don’t hesitate. If you have a chance to escape the ship, take it. Find a place to hide in the stables by the village. I’ll meet you there.” He asked two of his men to stay with Isla as guards.

  After agreeing, Leland emerged from behind the barrels, spotting the trouble in an instant. At least a dozen soldiers had appeared from nowhere and were fighting with the men he’d left as lookouts. Something must have alerted them. Leland jumped into the action, leading the remainder of his men into battle.

  His men fought hard and they were winning, until about ten of the ship’s crew members emerged from the lower deck. Outnumbered, Leland watched helplessly as his men were defeated one by one. The space was too confined, not allowing a safe path for Isla to escape either. Leland knew they had to change tactics and quickly.

  While fighting his opponent, he moved toward the edge of the hull, jumping up on the edge. After a few more slashes with his sword, he leapt onto the dock below. A few men took his example and soon the fighting had spanned over the entire dock, allowing more room and obstacles to work with during the fight. Leland moved back, leading his opponent the other direction from where he’d told Isla to run.

  The fight raged on, but somehow through the cloud of men and swinging swords, he saw Isla runn
ing up the hill toward the village, but her guards were no longer there. They were occupied fighting more men coming from the other direction. The enemy soldiers were everywhere and three of them were in pursuit of his sister.

  Throwing caution aside, Leland plunged through the group of fighting men in front of him. “Isla, keep running!” he screamed, rushing to save her. Archers appeared on the cliffs above and arrows swooshed by him as he ran. He was a few yards away, but an enemy soldier intercepted him. He clashed swords with the man and spun to one side before kicking him in the shin, sending him plummeting off the dock and into the cold water below.

  He started up the hill, almost reaching Isla, when pain exploded through his body. Leland dropped to his knees, observing an arrow protruding from his right side. He struggled to catch his breath.

  “Leland!” his sister screamed.

  He looked up and met Isla’s terrified gaze. She had stopped a short distance from him with tears of shock rolling down her face. “Go Isla. Run!” he rasped with his last reserve of strength, but she could only shake her head and sob.

  A soldier carried her away moments later. He heard Isla screaming his name and fighting to escape her captor’s grasp, but Leland could only watch in despair as she disappeared from his sight.

  The sound of running footsteps came behind him and Leland tried to force himself back onto his feet, but it only made him fall face down on the rocky path. It was no use. His limbs didn’t seem to work and his breath came in ragged gasps.

  The footsteps drew closer and he waited for the enemy to finish him off, but they never did. Two men grabbed Leland’s arms, pulling him to his feet. “Hold on, Your Majesty. We’ll bring you somewhere safe. You’re going to live.”

  No, leave me. Find…find my sister. She’s in danger. You must…you must save her instead. You must save Isla, he tried to tell them, but the words wouldn’t push past his lips. His vision spun as the men half carried, half dragged him across the dock and into the cover of some brush. More arrows swooshed past him, narrowly missing. Then he saw nothing but darkness.