The Royal Shifters Complete Series Boxed Set

by Alice Wilde

  Eleven

  Ero

  I may not believe in love, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with senseless killing. I’ve never been one for superstitious nonsense, now more than ever.

  Roan’s pissed me off enough the past two days, but this takes the cake. I get it, he’s got a thing for the girl, but how could he be so stupid? He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for just a few short hours, and now the crew knows there’s a woman on board.

  “If I didn’t need your hands, I’d have you all thrown overboard,” the captain says. “Where is she? Where have you hidden her?”

  “We’ve made it this far,” Li says, his voice calm but firm. “There’s no reason for things to get out of hand.”

  “Where is she?” the captain demands. “Get her off my ship this instant!”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Li says. “Just get us to the destination and you’ll never be bothered by us again.”

  “Fool. We’ll never make it as long as she’s on board.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” says Li. “We’re making good time. Nothing’s gone awry, and you wouldn’t have even known if it weren’t for Roan’s slip of the tongue.”

  “You’ll see. The ocean’s a jealous mistress. She wanted me to know, and now she’ll expect her dues,” the captain says. “Lads, find her.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” I growl, positioning myself between the captain and his men. Wind whips up around us.

  “Don’t test me, boy,” the captain says. “The lady of the sea has already started to grow angry.”

  “We won’t let you harm her,” Li says.

  “Just look at the skies, you bastards!”

  I snarl, but I’m thrown off balance onto the deck as a wave hits the side of the ship. The skies have grown unexpectedly dark and only seem to be getting darker.

  “Fine, if you won’t tell me where she is, I’ll find her some other way.”

  I grit my teeth, but I can feel anger rising in me. The selfish disregard for another being’s life reminds me of the night I witnessed my father murder my family and I begin to see red.

  “Throw everything overboard!” the captain yells.

  There’s a loud splash and I turn my head to see several crates get tossed overboard.

  “No!” Roan roars, running over to them.

  A strong gust of wind rushes across the deck and the clouds above suddenly burst, torrential rain pouring down on us all.

  Several of the crew draw out their cutlasses and point them toward Roan while others continue to throw goods into the ocean. My vision continues to fade as the storm rises around us. Waves break against the sides of the ship, nearly capsizing us in their efforts.

  Li tries to calm me, but it’s too late. This madman thinks throwing a girl overboard will save his own crooked, rotten corpse. If anything happens to her, I’ll make sure he doesn’t survive another day.

  I hear Roan shout, but I am nearly blind with rage and can’t quite make out what he says. Then I hear yet another barrel tossed overboard.

  “Hurt her and you’ll breathe your last,” I say, and everything goes dark.

  Twelve

  Annalise

  I open my eyes, but all I see is darkness. My head is throbbing with pain alongside the aching of my body. It takes me a moment to remember what happened. I nearly stop breathing as the memory of recent events comes flooding back to me. I don’t even know where I am. All I know is that I’m still alive.

  Pausing my inner thoughts, I listen. I can hear seagulls and the faint crashing of waves, but I’m not moving. I wriggle around inside the barrel, at least as much as I can. Nothing, no bobbing or tipping. I must be on land. Or perhaps I’m wedged into some rock at sea. No, don’t start thinking like that. I need to focus on getting out of this barrel, and soon. I’m not sure how long I’ve been knocked out, but I need water, food, and to relieve myself before I fall ill.

  I press against the top of the barrel as hard as I can, but nothing happens. I try again, and this time the wood groans. Ero must have really jammed the lid back on for it to be stuck so soundly. Running my fingers gently around the inner rim, I feel for cracks in the wood. I know there was one that Ero left for air, but I can’t seem to find it. Thinking for a moment, I suck at my cheeks to gather as much saliva from my dry mouth as I can before spitting onto my fingers and running them once again around the inside of the barrel. Then, I feel it, a light breeze barely noticeable through a small crack.

  Positioning myself against it, I press with as much force as I can manage. The wood creaks and I feel the opening let in a bit more air, but it doesn’t break. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. All this way to be lost at sea, trapped in a barrel, and unable to escape. This is the part in a book where the maiden would be rescued by her lover or some force of nature would set her free. It all sounded so much more romantic in stories.

  No. I am better than this. I won’t go down without fighting, not until I’ve used every last bit of energy in my body. Breathing deeply, I prepare myself once again to try to break free. Just as I’m about to set myself against the wood, I hear voices. They’re unfamiliar, English voices. I don’t know if they’re close enough to hear me, but I press my mouth the crack in the barrel and shout as loudly as I can. My voice comes out raspy and low. I try again, forcing sound out.

  “Help, please help!”

  The voices go silent, but then I hear, “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “I thought I heard someone calling.”

  “It’s probably just—”

  “Help,” I call out once again, my throat stinging.

  “There it is again!”

  “I heard it, too. Careful, it might be a trick.”

  “It sounded like it was coming from one of the barrels.”

  “Here, men, check those barrels!”

  The crunch of boots on wet sand draws closer, and I hear them kicking other wooden items. I must not have been the only barrel that washed ashore. Suddenly, there’s a loud crunch, as if one of the men has smashed something down on one of the other casks. I flinch as I hear the wood splinter and break as it’s hit again.

  “Idiot! Look what you’ve done. That was perfectly good wine. I told you to check the barrels, not destroy them.”

  “Sorry, sir,” says a deep voice.

  “You will be sorry if I ever see you do something that stupid again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The footsteps draw closer, this time without further sounds of destruction. The crunch of sand grows louder as someone draws near to my barrel. I don’t know why I’ve kept so quiet, but my heart has started to race and I feel a pang of unease in my gut. A loud thud reverberates through the drum of my barrel as a boot collides with it. There’s a pause, and then again, the barrel is kicked.

  “Sir, this bucket almost sounds hollow.”

  The noise of more men approaching grows louder, and then my barrel is kicked again.

  “Hmm, you’re right. There’s something different in this one.”

  “Should we open it, sir?”

  “No. Collect and load up the other barrels and crates first.”

  One of the men retreats, and I hold my breath to listen to the men still surrounding me.

  “What do you think is inside?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s quiet now.”

  “Do you think it’s dead?”

  “More likely scared.”

  “It sounded like some kind of wild beast. What should we do with it?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  A blade sings as it’s unsheathed and I hear it scrape against the rim of the barrel lid.

  “Ah, see here? There’s a small crack in the top, most likely to let air in. Whatever’s inside was put there intentionally.”

  “That’s good news, right?”

  “It’s unlikely smugglers would take the risk if it wasn’t worth something.”

 
I pull my face away from the gap in the lid just as the man slides the tip of the blade inside and begins to leverage it against the rim in an attempt to pry open the lid.

  “Holy hell, this is on tight. Give me a hand.”

  The men grunt with effort but are unable to pry the cask open. I’m too nervous to say anything, but it makes me feel better about myself that at least two other men are having just as much difficulty freeing me as I was.

  “James, bring the axe.”

  The man sheathes his knife as we wait for James to make his way over to us.

  “Here you are, sir.”

  “Stand back, men.”

  I’m going to die. He’s going to chop me into pieces trying to break open the barrel.

  “Stop,” I shout, the fear of death loosening my tongue.

  Silence follows once again.

  “That’s not a wild animal.”

  “No, no, I’m not an animal,” I say, my breath catching in my throat.

  “It sounds like a woman,” says one of the men.

  “Sir, I should be able to break open the cask without harming her,” says James.

  “Hmm, very well. Don’t open it all the way.”

  “Get as low as you can inside,” James says to me.

  I curl up as small as I can and shut my eyes. There’s still not much space between the top of my head and that of the barrel. I swear I can hear the blade whistle through the air and then the cask quivers with the blow of the axe lodging itself in the wood. James frees the axe blade and swings again and I hear the lid start to part from the barrel’s body as he twists the blade.

  “That should be enough,” one of the other men says.

  James removes the axe and inserts his fingers into the crack to pry the lid up enough for me to see out. The beach is dark, aside from lit torches bobbing about as men hurry to collect the intact crates and barrels and load them onto various carts.

  “Well, what do we have here?”

  A pair of steely gray eyes comes into view, peering in at me. The man furrows his brow and then straightens.

  “It really is a woman. Not half bad to look at either, or at least she should be after a good wash.”

  Another face appears and examines me before disappearing.

  “A stowaway?”

  “I doubt they’re transporting women by barrel these days.”

  “What are we going to do with her?”

  “Do with me? Why do you have to do anything with me? By the gods, just let me out,” I say.

  “The female has quite the tongue to her,” one of the men says with a laugh. “She’d be good entertainment, to say the least.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps you’re right. We have a good distance to go before we make it to London.”

  “Let me out!”

  “James, load her up with the wines. I’ll think of what to do with her next time we camp.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I bang against the top of the barrel, but I lose what little balance and influence I had when James picks up my wooden cask. His movements are awkward and unsteady, nothing like my companions, and I stop moving for fear of him dropping me. It only takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and start rocking back and forth as hard as I can, trying to get him to drop me. If I’m lucky enough, dropping the barrel might just be enough force to free me.

  “Stop moving,” James grunts, but I only increase my efforts.

  I’m about to give up when the world seems to fall away from me with the same uncomfortable weightlessness I had felt just before being tossed into the stormy sea. I brace myself just in time, covering my head with my arms. I crash into the wood just as it smashes against the ground. I look up to see that half the lid has broken, and I immediately begin to squeeze myself through the opening. It’s tight, but I succeed in getting my head and upper body through it before James looks up from where he’s fallen. He rubs his head in pain.

  “Don’t move!”

  I wriggle harder, but my hips and bottom are proving to be far more difficult to get out. My pulse quickens as James starts to slowly push himself back to his feet, and I push and kick against the barrel. I feel the pressure around my hips lessen as I fall forward to the ground. Quickly pulling my legs free, I scramble to my feet and look around. We’re not far from where they’re loading the carts, just where the sand meets the edge of a steep, rocky embankment.

  To my left are more men searching the area for goods by torchlight in front of a small cliff, and to my right, James and the rest of the men are loading the carts. There appears to be a bit of a path through the cliffs there, but I doubt I could get past all of them.

  I’ll probably regret this later. I kick off my shoes and tie my skirts as quickly as I can. James is still rubbing his head and hasn’t managed to get off his knees. I’m not about to wait until he does.

  Grabbing at the nearest handhold I can find, I pull myself up the embankment as swiftly as I can.

  “Stop,” James yells. “Stop her!”

  His yell has drawn the attention of the men nearby, and I turn my head to see several of them running toward me.

  “Get her!”

  It’s the voice of one of the men who had insisted on keeping me in the barrel until he figured out what to do with me. I climb faster, rocks scraping the skin of my knee and cutting into my hands and feet. Climbing sounds so much easier in books. I reach out to grasp at a jutting ledge and pull myself further up the steep embankment, but as soon as I shift my weight the rock breaks beneath my hand and I slide down several feet before managing to catch myself on another handhold.

  I’m shaking, but hastily compose myself and reach to start scaling the rocky crag again only to feel a hand seize my ankle. I scream as I am yanked down and into the arms of an unknown man.

  “Get off me! Let me go!”

  He drops me face first into the sand but quickly drops down on top of me, a knee digging agonizingly into my lower back. I gasp in pain as he forces my arms behind me, tying them in place. The sand stings at the cuts in my legs.

  “Someone, please help,” I yell.

  “Gag her.”

  I look up and into the hard, torchlit face of the gray-eyed man. He watches as the man still kneeling on my back forces a gag into my mouth, his face emotionless.

  “Good, bend her over my horse. Let’s see her try to escape from me then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man finishes gagging me and lashes my feet together as well before rising and lifting me over his shoulder. I look around at the men nearby. They’re all dressed in light armor, but they don’t look like soldiers. James still hasn’t risen from where he fell and I notice he has a deep gash on his forehead. He appears to be in a daze, the blood still dripping onto the sand in front of him.

  James looks up at me as we pass, and my stomach turns when I see just how badly he’s wounded. Without medical attention, I doubt he’ll last the night. The twang of a bowstring sounds and I watch in wide-eyed shock as James’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls forward into the sand, an arrow lodged deep in his back.

  “Shame he couldn’t be more useful,” the gray-eyed man says. “Move out!”

  I stare at James’s lifeless body, left unceremoniously to bleed out on the sand as I’m carried off toward the carts and horses. The men strewn about the beach all head back with whatever else they’ve found.

  I grunt in agony as the man carrying me tosses me over the back of a horse, knocking the wind out of me. Their carts are full of various goods that have been washed ashore, as well as what looks like an assortment of random items, foods, and wares.

  These men are not soldiers. I am in far greater danger than I could have imagined, and no one knows where I am.

  I am just a woman among thieves.

  I’d always thought myself an excellent rider, but then again, I’d never been tied up and thrown over the back of a horse between a man’s legs. A horse’s movements are far more noticeable when your stomach is in direct co
ntact. The longer we ride, the more I want to retch. If my bladder were full, I’d have soiled myself by now. As it is, I’m severely dehydrated.

  The sky has started to grow pale with the coming dawn.

  “Halt,” the man riding with me says. “We’ll camp here for the day.”

  I can almost hear the collective sigh of relief from the men. Even with the carts and my position on the horse, I knew we had been riding quite hard.

  Dismounting, the man hands the reigns to someone else.

  “Feed and water her.”

  “The horse or the girl, sir?”

  “Both. I’ll send for the girl when I’m ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The horse and I are led off to a small stream where several other horses are being watered. My horse is secured to a nearby tree and she begins to drink from the running water. A pair of hands tugs me backward and then grabs me around the waist to lift me down from the horse. He props me up against a nearby tree, and I’m grateful for the change in position, even as roughly as he’s handled me. The man is quite young, probably not much older than me, but he’s quite tall and broad, his face hard and weathered. After all I’ve seen the past few weeks, I can’t imagine what he must have gone through to look the way he does. He removes the horse’s saddle and places it to the side as he begins to brush her down. As rough as the young man has been with me, I’m surprised at how gentle he is with her.

  “You’d choose a horse over your own mother, wouldn’t you, Bryn?” a man jokes as he leads his own horse over to the stream.

  Bryn says nothing as he finishes feeding and caring for the horse. He wipes down the saddle and then picks it up and walks back toward camp, leaving me alone. If only I could run. I squirm to test my restraints, but they remain fixed. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up and I look out into the forest, feeling as though someone is watching me. I’m startled by a voice quite close to me.

  “Well, what do we have here?”