by Sue Lyndon
Only one person had ever called her little dove, but he was long gone. Tears blurred her vision. It was only a coincidence, and the man holding her captive meant to do her harm. Drown her. Strangle her. Rape her. Her terror escalated when she reached for the knife on her thigh, only to remember she’d taken it off before crawling into the bathtub.
“Now, I want you to listen very carefully,” the deep voice continued, “I mean you no harm. In fact, it is my intention to keep you safe. I will only remove my hand if you promise not to scream. Do you promise, little dove?”
Little dove. Again. Her throat tightened as memories fell upon her, memories of a time long ago when she’d been a somewhat happy child, long before the responsibilities of adulthood had weighed upon her heart. An older boy in the castle, a servant, had befriended her. They’d been inseparable, although after he’d been banished from the castle, she often wondered if he’d merely tolerated her. She had followed him around during his chores and invited him to attend her private studies, much to her governess’s chagrin. Bronson was his name, and chances were that he and his parents had perished long ago.
“Do you promise not to scream, princess?” The voice sounded more urgent.
What choice did she have? Anna breathed deeply through her nose and then nodded twice. She inhaled several times through her mouth once he removed his hand, covering her breasts and keeping her head low. She knew she wouldn’t like what was about to happen, but maybe if she were docile enough, he’d lead her to the bed. Her dress rested on the edge of the bed with the knife tucked underneath it.
“Here.” The large man, his face obscured by the shadows, stood with a towel spread open. “You must get dressed, and then we must hurry. Please, do not be afraid.”
Easy for him to say. Anger heated her blood, and she glared up at him and his proffered towel. “I rented this room for the night. You, sir, must leave immediately.”
But wait . . . oh, heavens. Realization crashed upon her like an icy wind sweeping down from the mountains. He hadn’t just called her little dove. He’d called her Princess, too.
He knew!
She bit the inside of her lip, scowling up at him and raging inside. Of course. He must be a soldier of her father’s, here to take her home. Drag her was more like it. She had no plans to go willingly.
“My father sent you, didn’t he?”
Her question was met with silence, and he continued to hold the towel open. The lantern that rested on the floor next to the bed provided little light for the room, and certainly not enough light to reveal his face. Not that she knew what most of the guards looked like, but she recognized some of them. She would certainly recognize a soldier’s uniform, and the black trousers worn by this man confused her. Iverson soldiers traditionally wore blue and red. From what she could tell of this man, he appeared to be a commoner. Except, no. A sword was affixed to his hip. Commoners couldn’t afford swords.
She gulped and remained in the tub, her hands still shielding her breasts. “I asked you a question,” she said, this time more forcefully. “Did my father send you?”
“Yes, little dove, but I have no intention of returning you to the king.”
Her stomach nearly revolted. If not her father, then… The possibility was too grim to consider, but she had to know for certain where this man planned to take her. “Lord Edmund, then? Are you taking me to him?”
The man stiffened. “No. You’ll never be in same room with Lord Edmund if I have anything to do with it. Now please, stand up, Princess. We have a long journey ahead of us and it’s easiest to slip past the soldiers in the dead of night.”
Anna’s mind whirled, and some of her fear dissipated. An urgency surrounded the stranger, yet he hadn’t threatened her. Would he hurt her later? She wondered why he was in such a hurry and what he planned to do with her once they slipped past the guards. She knew she was better off on her own though, and a port on the other side of the island remained her goal.
“Princess, I am losing patience. Stand up and step into the towel or I’ll drag you out of the tub myself.” His tone was sharper than before, and she shivered in the water, despite how warm it was around her body.
“Fine.” She rose up and grabbed the towel. She didn’t allow him to drape it around her, instead snatching it from his hands and wrapping it around her torso in a flash, hating that he’d seen her unclothed, for however brief a moment. Whoever he was, he was certainly no gentleman.
Anna stepped from the tub and headed for the straw bed, rivulets of water cascading down her legs and leaving wet footprints on the dusty floor. She glanced over her shoulder at the stranger and gasped when he stepped into the light.
She’d never seen a man so tall. At least three heads taller than Anna, he had a broad chest and wide shoulders. He wore plain, black clothing that appeared to be draped upon solid muscle. A scar marred his left cheek all the way up to his eye.
He turned around, showing her his back and finally giving her privacy. “Get dressed, and hurry.”
Hastily drying off, Anna kept peering over her shoulder at the man, but he didn’t attempt to peek at her. She slipped her drawers on and tied them, then felt around underneath her dress for the knife. Her heart pounded. It wasn’t there!
“You . . . you,” she began in an accusing tone.
“If you’re a good girl, I might return your weapon after a few days.” He turned slightly, but didn’t attempt to look at her just yet.
Anna hurriedly finished dressing, putting on her thickest stockings, worn slippers, her only dress, and her cloak, before grabbing the sack that contained the few treasures she’d brought along, and heaved it over her shoulder. She moved to the center of the room and crossed her arms over her chest.
Finally, the man turned around. She almost flinched at the scar on his cheek. It was deep and she cringed to imagine how badly it had hurt. He was lucky he hadn’t lost his eye. Fleetingly, she wondered what had happened to the person who’d attacked him. She shuddered to think of it.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She planted her feet wide on the floor.
The air seemed to leave the room as he approached her and took her by her shoulders, leaning close to peer directly into her face. “Do you not recognize an old friend, little dove?”
“You must be mistaken,” she said, wishing to shrink back but remaining in place, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of witnessing her fear. “I don’t know you.”
He tipped her chin up and stared at her for a long moment, and as she gazed into his dark eyes, a sense of familiarity descended upon her. His scent and mannerisms, always so tense, was reminiscent of someone from long ago. And his dark brown eyes reminded her of the one and only friend she’d had as a child, the friend her father had thrown out of the castle, except these eyes held a hard glint that had her trembling in her slippers.
“Bronson,” she whispered. “Is it really you?”
“Yes, little dove. It is I.”
The urge to both cry and dance collided, but she did neither. Instead, she let her arms fall to her sides, then tentatively reached up to touch his face, but avoided his scar out of fear that it might still cause him pain. “Why are you here? How did you find me?”
“I must get you out of the city as soon as possible. It’s not safe for you here.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
The lines on his face deepened as his eyes narrowed. “War is coming, Princess, and no noble within the city is safe.”
Chapter 2
Bronson placed a hand on Anna’s head, urging her to keep low as they waited, crouched behind a row of bushes in front of a small, dark shack. Fortunately, the rain had stopped. Had it persisted, their escape would have been postponed for a night. A frigid wind swept down from the sky, where the stars and moon shone down and reflected off the puddles of water in the street.
The princess shuddered beneath his hand, and he ached to gather her in his arms until she was warm. She’d grown into
a beautiful young woman, more beautiful than he’d imagined, with sparkling blue eyes and long waves of dark brown hair. Most of the freckles she’d had as a child had faded, but a few still dotted her rosy cheeks, and he thought they only made her look more adorable, and innocent too.
“They’re never going to leave,” Anna whispered. “I’ve tried waiting them out more than once, and the soldiers never leave their posts.”
He patted her head. “Quiet, princess. I’m listening for the signal.”
“Signal? What signal?”
Before she could question him further, he detected a faint whistling off in the distance. He propelled her to her feet, holding her against his body as he clamped a hand over her mouth. The guards patrolling the top of the wall began shouting to one another. A few moments later they rushed down the steps and ran past the shack where Bronson remained in the shadows with Anna.
The smell of smoke reached him. He glanced behind him and saw the glow of a fire. He said a quick prayer. The fire not only provided the distraction he needed to get Anna out of the city, but it also signaled the beginning of the revolution. All the nobles’ houses were to be set ablaze tonight, and in the early hours of the morning the real fighting would begin. The castle would be taken last, the king and Prince Tamlen compelled to surrender. Thank the gods he’d found Anna just in time.
“Now!” he hissed, tugging on her arm.
They rushed for the steps on the wall. Bronson had surveyed the wall enough to know that another set of steps, steps that led outside of the city, rested not far from this section of the wall. All the nearby soldiers had abandoned their posts, and they weren’t met with a single resistance. Anna shrugged his hand from her arm, but she kept pace with him, so he allowed it. He had a feeling he’d have to keep her under tight watch after they escaped the city though, especially after she learned the cost of her freedom.
He expected her to rebel. How could she not? Though she had been a kind, gentle child, she'd had her moments of intense stubbornness. When she made up her mind about something, she didn’t take no for an answer. It was due to her stubbornness that Bronson had been allowed to study alongside her in between his duties in the castle. She’d thrown a tantrum to rival all tantrums in front of her governess, crying and yelling and stomping her little feet until the tired old woman had finally given in to her antics.
Bronson wouldn’t give into Princess Anna’s antics, though. She was to be his wife, and he expected her obedience. If she defied him, and he knew she eventually would, probably sooner than later, he’d turn her over his knee for a sound spanking. He’d tame her stubborn streak, no matter how many sessions it took. Of course he hoped to earn her affections too, not her fearful obedience, and he planned to be gentle and loving with her as she adapted to life as a commoner. Perhaps in time she’d be grateful for all he’d done for her, and he prayed she didn’t resent him for taking her away from one arraigned marriage only to force her into another.
“Here!” he said, pointing at a set of steps descending outside the city. “Be careful. It’s steep.” He grasped her hand and held firm, even as she tugged against him.
“Let go! I can do it myself.” Horror flashed in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered. She looked behind her at the burning city. Screams echoed in the night, and another fire lit up the darkness every few seconds. Swords clashed in the distance; church bells were ringing, signaling an enemy attack even though the enemy came from within.
An arrow zipped between their heads, and Bronson pushed Anna behind him, the urge to protect her all-consuming. He spotted a single soldier running toward the wall, aiming a second arrow directly at them. Bronson ducked just in time, and it flew over his head. Before the soldier had a chance to reload, he propelled Anna down the steps and outside the city.
“Run!”
She held his hand, no longer trying to pull away. They headed for the forest. They ran and ran through the twisting paths in the thickness of the trees, until finally they reached the edge of the small woods. An expanse of flat land lay before them, and in the distance another much larger forest rested. Once they reached it, they could stop for the night in the safety of the trees. Tomorrow, after a short journey, they would reach the seaside village of Cimastown. It wasn’t far, but he knew the princess was tired and he hated the thought of dragging her through the cold darkness.
Bronson slowed to a walk, but kept the princess’s hand secure in his, enjoying the silkiness and warmth of her skin against his. Ribbons of white spilled from her hood, her head tucked into the cloak. She kept pace with him but it was obvious she wished to run far away. Though she didn’t attempt to retrieve her hand from his, she kept it limp within his firm grip, yet her body was rigid and tense.
“The fires you saw were the nobles’ houses, little dove. Tonight marks the first night of the fighting.”
She peered at him from beneath her hood. “Where are your parents? What became of you all after my father banished you from the castle?”
His throat tightened and he gazed at the sky. “My father’s cousin took us in, and after the winter passed, we escaped the city walls and made our way to Cimastown not long after it was founded.”
“Are your parents there now? In Cimastown?”
Darkness clouded his thoughts, his mood plummeting as his gut clenched with painful memories. “No, Princess.”
Silence reigned between them for a long while. They reached the larger forest and veered off the dirt path, walking until Bronson decided they were hidden enough to start a fire. “We’ll make camp here tonight and make our way to Cimastown tomorrow.”
Princess Anna turned and stood directly before him, gazing up at him with a heartbroken expression. “Are they dead? Your parents?”
He nodded. “An illness swept through the village last fall while I was away.” He didn’t elaborate further. The guilt of their death weighed heavily upon his heart. He’d been off chasing the bounty of a foreign criminal wanted for murdering a nobleman’s young son. He hadn’t been around to care for his parents during their final hours, and the gold he’d received for capturing the criminal felt like ill-gotten gains. He’d been planning to use his newfound wealth to expand his mother’s garden and build an addition onto their tiny home. Instead, he’d had to bury his mother and father, and he’d only returned to Cimastown a handful of times since.
“I’m so sorry, Bronson,” Princess Anna said, placing a hand on his right cheek. His left cheek burned suddenly, and he wondered if she found his scar grotesque. The very criminal he’d been off capturing while his parents died had given him the scar during an intense fight that had nearly cost Bronson his life.
“Thank you, Princess. A lot of good people died during the illness. Cimastown isn’t as strong as it used to be, especially with many men off fighting in the city right now, but it is my home.” They would move into the same tiny house, a cottage really, that his father had built years ago. Nerves twisted his stomach as he wondered what she’d think of it. He immediately wished he’d gone ahead and fixed it up and built the addition he’d planned for his parents. The need to impress Princess Anna gnawed at him unbidden, and he pushed the ridiculous notions down. The cottage might not be much, but it was warm and safe.
Bronson busied himself with making a fire. Luckily the rains hadn’t reached this far and there was plenty of dry brush and twigs available for kindling, and he soon had a fire blazing. He smiled as Anna knelt on the ground, rubbing her hands over the heat as her cloak fell back. The glow of the fire bathed her face in tones of orange and yellow, reflecting off the silky locks that spilled over her shoulders. He pulled blankets from his pack and formed two beds on the ground, side by side and close to the fire. Anna watched him in silence, but a thousand questions flickered in her gaze. He stared at her, aching to pluck every last worry from her heart.
“Will my father and brother be executed?” she asked, coming to sit on one of the blankets.
Bronson sat next to her and clasped
her hand. To his relief and immense pleasure, she didn’t stiffen, nor did she pull away. “I don’t know, little dove. They will be given the option to surrender, I know that. If they cooperate, there’s a chance they will be exiled from the Kingdom of Iverson.”
She drew in a deep breath. “But there’s also a chance they might be punished more severely for their crimes. They could be tried and put to death, could they not?”
Bronson squeezed her hand and gave her a sympathetic look. “There is a very good chance they will be put to death. I’m sorry.” Lying served no purpose.
“Good. They deserve it,” she spat out in a harsh tone. “I spent twenty days in the city. In the streets. I saw how the people lived. I saw how bone-thin they were. And I saw every ship that sailed into the port head for the castle’s private dock. My father’s soldiers were everywhere, on the wall and in the streets, keeping people in line. King Mendel deserves what he gets, and so does my brother. My brother ordered more executions last year than my father has in his entire lifetime.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she bit her lip as she glared at the fire.
“You’re a gentle soul compared to them, princess.” Bronson moved to her side and slowly draped an arm around her shoulders. She tensed at first but soon relaxed against him, leaning into him as if soaking up his comfort. And he hoped she found comfort in his presence. He wanted to give her a sense of security and earn her trust.
“You shouldn’t call me princess anymore,” she said, sniffling as she dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. “Someone might hear you and decide to burn me with the rest of the nobles.”
He tightened his hold on her and stroked the top of her head. “No harm will come to you. I promise.”
“How can you promise such a thing? The city is burning and people are dying.”
“I made a deal with the leaders of the revolution to spare your life. A deal that will allow you to remain in the Kingdom of Iverson.”
