Island in the Forest (Shrouded Thrones Book 1)

by Jeanne Hardt

  Justine sniffled. “I do not wish to live. I came to the forest to find tannin root.” Another sniffle. “I do not know what it looks like. I fail at whatever I attempt to do.”

  Sebastian stepped forward. “Death is not a solution. Let us help you.”

  Justine tipped her head back and pushed a few strands of hair from her face. She smiled, staring at Sebastian.

  Olivia pinched her lips together, though she wanted to scream, this one is mine. Jealousy swept over her and her thoughts wickedly tumbled. She should be ashamed of herself for feeling this way, but the ache in her belly grew when Sebastian extended his hand and helped Justine to her feet.

  “Where do you live?” he asked her.

  Justine pointed to the right.

  Had Sebastian asked her, she would have shown him. Olivia knew where everyone in the kingdom resided.

  She stepped up beside Justine and took her arm. “I shall help you to your cottage.”

  To Olivia’s relief, Sebastian stepped back. “Shall I wait here for you?”

  “Yes, please do.” Olivia crossed to him and kissed his cheek. “I shan’t be long.”

  Perhaps it had been inappropriate to show affection this way, but something came over her and she felt compelled to do it. She had considered kissing him on his lips, which would have been too harsh a display in the presence of a grieving woman.

  “You will never lose me,” Sebastian whispered low in her ear. “I love you and you alone.”

  Unexpectedly, he initiated a kiss. Sweet and on her lips. Yes, the man already knew her well and had sensed her jealousy. “I love you, too. When I return, we shall finish our conversation.”

  It seemed quite odd to walk alongside Justine to her home. As princess, Olivia had been led to help her. They spoke not, yet at least Justine had stopped crying.

  Her cottage was near the cotton fields, and from the appearance of the dry cracked skin on her hands, she must have been helping with the harvest. Picking cotton was one of the most difficult tasks for the farmers.

  “I know it pains you to be near me.” Justine spoke just above a whisper. “You do not have to go any farther.”

  “I want to be certain you arrive home safely.” Something compelled Olivia to stop and grab hold of Justine’s hands. She peered straight into her face. “Please, do not harm yourself. Donovan is not worth ending your life.”

  Justine’s chin quivered and fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “I carry his child. He never knew.”

  Olivia instinctively pulled her hands to herself, grasped her belly, and stared at Justine’s. Donovan’s seed. Could his evil spirit pass on to the child? Certainly not.

  Justine clutched her own stomach. “Now that Donovan is . . . gone.” She sniffled. “My parents insist when the baby is born, I hand it over to my sister Jacqueline. She and her husband have been unable to produce a child.” She burst into sobs. “Because of my banishment from the evening meal, no one in the kingdom will witness the swell of my belly. I am to remain home until I deliver. They have gone so far as to insist Jacqueline pad her clothing so everyone will believe she carries.” She blinked away tears. “I do not want to give up my baby.”

  No wonder she had been crying. The poor woman not only grieved for Donovan, she could not even acknowledge his death. She had skimmed around the word dead and replaced it with gone. Eventually, she would have to accept that he would not be coming back. And though the way her parents intended to cope with the situation seemed harsh, it made sense. The child needed two parents and taking this course would keep the family from shame. Even so, Olivia pitied her.

  She laid a hand on Justine’s shoulder. “Abide by your parents’ wishes. You are blessed they allow you in their home. Rosalie’s parents cast her aside. This will be better for everyone. A bastard child is rarely looked fondly upon by others, but I swear to keep your secret safe.”

  Justine’s features hardened. “I should have thrown myself from the cliff.”

  “Do not speak so. Would you rather kill your child than give it the chance for a normal life with your sister?”

  Once again, Olivia’s words produced tears. Obviously, Justine had not considered that she would end her child’s life as well as her own.

  Justine’s head dropped low. “I want my baby to be happy.”

  “Happiness requires life.” She took Justine by the shoulders and forced her to look at her. “For the sake of your baby, take care of yourself. Eat well, sleep, and do not toil for long hours in the fields.”

  Justine slightly nodded. Despair remained in her sad eyes.

  Olivia had to do more for her. After all, she placed most of the blame for this situation on Donovan. “Justine?”

  She blinked out more tears. “Yes?”

  “After you have delivered, I shall tell the queen you have suffered long enough in your banishment and request you be allowed to return to the evening meal. Therefore, your child will not see you as an outcast. It shall come to know you as a loving aunt who is part of this kingdom.”

  Justine stood a bit taller. “I have been told of the coming of Basilia. What if my sister and her husband choose to leave Padrida? They would take my child away and I may never see it again.”

  Olivia offered a reassuring smile. “If you learn of their intentions to do so, come to me at once and make me aware. Then I shall go to Jacqueline and tell her I know the truth and insist they stay in Padrida. I vow this to you. It is the least I can do knowing how you, too, have suffered from Donovan’s indiscretions.”

  “There is one difference.” Justine stared into her eyes. “I love him.”

  Olivia had to turn away. Donovan did not deserve the love of any woman. Everyone he touched was either scarred or dead. She intended to pray every night for the unborn child, and hope God would hear her plea and give the infant a pure heart.

  Chapter 33

  Sebastian had never seen jealousy so blatantly displayed on a woman’s face. Of course, he had never loved a woman before, and therefore no woman had cause to be jealous. Yet it made no sense for Olivia to feel threatened.

  He returned to the log, sat, and waited for her.

  He caught sight of her hair glistening in the sunlight. She took each step toward him with elegance and grace and appeared to be doing it deliberately. He had seen her on many other occasions with quite a different gait.

  The reason stood out as clear as the sky above them. He chuckled under his breath. She wanted to be certain he had not forgotten her attributes—swayed by the beauty of another. Did she not realize she was far more beautiful?

  He welcomed her with a kiss she would not soon forget, hoping to dismiss any unfounded fears. He held her close and covered her mouth with his own, before she had time to take a breath.

  When she came up for air, he gave her another—longer, deeper, and far more fervent.

  Perhaps he had been motivated by more than her beauty. Relief flowed through his veins. She had not questioned the cloak on the bridge or asked to use the spyglass. Had she, she likely would have surmised as he had.

  He broke their kiss, but kept his hold on her. “Do you still doubt my love?”

  “Never.” She breathed heavily as if overcome. “I not only feel it here . . .” She touched her lips. “It is here as well.” Her hand moved to her bosom, then she coyly tipped her head, and her fingers teased along his beard. A habit of hers he found to his liking.

  “The woman was fair, but nothing like you. Why did you worry so?”

  “Justine was Donovan’s lover. I am unsure whether or not I revealed her name to you before now.”

  If she had, he had forgotten. What he had told Gerard was partially true. He had always had trouble remembering names, especially having encountered so many new people in Padrida.

  This revelation brought sense to everything. No wonder Olivia felt jealous and threatened by the woman, having been hurt by her before.

  He caressed Olivia’s back. “The care you showed her was honorab
le. It had to have been difficult for you.”

  “Yes, it was.” Her smile vanished, and she motioned to the log.

  He took her hand and squeezed, then they both sat. He could tell she had much more to say, so he remained quiet and waited.

  Olivia gazed toward the sky. “It bothered me most to hear her speak of Donovan.” She shifted on the log and faced him. “She referred to him as being gone rather than dead. And . . . she told me she loves him. Not loved as someone who had passed, but love as if her feelings are for a living person.”

  Sebastian’s stomach roiled. The direction of this discussion troubled him. Donovan may have revealed his plans to Justine, and she might have knowledge of where he intended to go.

  “Sebastian?” Olivia patted his leg. “Did you hear me? I could swear your mind is elsewhere.”

  He shook his head. “Forgive me. I confess, I feel badly for the woman. Because of her grief, she chooses to deny his death. If you were told of my passing, would you not wish it otherwise?”

  “Of course, I would.” She cupped her hand over his cheek. “But—”

  He interrupted her with another kiss. It may have been rude to do so, but she raised no objections and melted into his arms.

  “Why do you keep kissing me?” She playfully swatted his chest. “You make waiting more difficult each time you do.”

  “Shall we cease kissing until our wedding night?”

  She rapidly shook her head.

  “Then, allow me my pleasure.” He laid her across his lap and bent down to seal his kiss. Seeing her this way drew his eyes to her bosom. He had to lock his hands behind her to keep from touching her.

  She lay there, blinking upward into the sun. “Soon you will not have to restrain yourself. My body will be yours in its entirety.”

  How did she always manage to read his mind? If he wanted to keep her happy and free from worry, somehow, he needed to deeply bury his thoughts about Donovan.

  She stood abruptly, grinning. “Let me show you parts of Padrida you have not yet seen.” She extended her hand, and he took it.

  They circled the interior of the wall, passed by numerous cottages where adults worked and children played, and ended their day in the orchard. She told him in detail about the conversation she had overheard there. More detail than she had shared in the presence of her father.

  It pleased him having her speak so openly, placing him at a higher level of importance than her own family. And soon, he prayed she would become a part of his.

  He longed to see them. He had never been away from home for this length of time. It was not so much missing them that prompted his desire, but he wanted them to meet Olivia and share his joy at finding his perfectly suited bride.

  They had to love her.

  * * *

  The days that followed became routine, but enjoyable. Sebastian wandered the grounds with Olivia, talking about everything imaginable. They were never at a loss for words.

  He came to understand her need to leave. Even though no land he had seen compared in beauty to Padrida, he felt captive. Whenever they passed the locked gate, his heart ached. He longed to venture over the bridge to the other side.

  They had come back here time after time. “By order of King Jordan,” he read, “no one shall cross this bridge. For fear of death.” When he turned to look at Olivia, her eyes had filled with tears. “Soon,” he whispered and brushed them away.

  “It has been four days, and they have not come.” Her brow furrowed. “What if Jonah perished in the woods?”

  “He is too obnoxious to perish. My heart tells me otherwise. I assure you, they will come.”

  He put his arm over her shoulder and walked with her to the castle. Through the course of the evening meal, a tinge of worry crept in.

  He took his mind off his concerns by focusing on the people in the room. Over the past few days, Olivia had made a point of telling him the names and trades of everyone there. Yet it was almost impossible retaining more than four hundred identities.

  Bread had once again been served. Appropriately, Dane and Rosalie had taken on the responsibility of bakers and resided in the baker’s cottage. Rosalie’s brother, Orman assisted them. It seemed with Donovan gone, everyone accepted them and no longer treated them as undesirable outcasts.

  A loud trumpet blast hushed everyone in the room.

  Sebastian smiled and grabbed Olivia’s hand. Her eyes widened, and she, too, smiled.

  “Basilia,” he muttered, and they jumped up from their chairs.

  They raced hand-in-hand down the corridor to Sebastian’s chamber, so he could retrieve the letter. He had already secured it to an arrow.

  Because Olivia had asked to read the letter when he had finished, he happily let her. However, she was unaware of what he had added after. He told Jonah the importance of removing the cloak from the bridge as soon as they possibly could. He also confided that he believed Donovan lived and to be wary of him, but he asked that Olivia not know of his suspicions. Jonah would understand.

  The king’s trumpets blasted again.

  “Should we have waited for Father and Mother?” Olivia asked as they sped toward the wall.

  “No. It is imperative I send the letter as quickly as possible. I am certain they will understand.”

  She nodded and grinned. “This is all so exciting!”

  She would not be quite so thrilled if she knew the trumpet’s tone indicated preparation for battle. His father had not sent bridge builders, he had sent his army.

  They lined up along the edge on the opposite side of the gorge. The king’s banners waved above the men who were armed with bows, swords, and spears. Sebastian counted at least thirty men, and no doubt more hidden in the forest.

  “I do not understand,” Olivia said. The panic in her eyes pained him. “Why do they come armed for battle?”

  He gently rubbed her back. “I know my father. Though I requested men to rebuild your bridge, he knew I was on the other side in the midst of a former enemy and was not willing to risk my life. My letter will stop them from any form of attack.”

  She handed him her spyglass. “See if Jonah is amongst them.”

  He scanned the faces of the men and spied Jonah’s unmistakable curls. He stood on the opposite side of the bridge with his bow ready.

  “Jonah!” Sebastian yelled.

  Immediately, Jonah waved his arm, then said something indiscernible to those around him.

  Sebastian raised his bow. “Stand back!”

  Jonah signaled for the men to take cover and Sebastian launched the arrow. It plunged perfectly into the ground near the bridge. Sebastian expected Jonah to take it, but another man stepped forward and plucked it from the ground.

  It angered Sebastian until he peered through the glass and realized it was his father. The king himself had come. Sebastian watched his father’s expressions change as he read the letter. Would he understand?

  His father cupped his hands to his mouth. “Sebastian!”

  Sebastian did the same and hollered back to him. “Yes, Father?”

  “Are you indeed well?” The concern in the man’s booming voice gave Sebastian hope for what was to come.

  “Yes!” He linked his hand into Olivia’s and raised them together for his father to see.

  “My men will build! Yelling is tiresome!”

  Sebastian laughed. At least his father had not lost his sense of humor.

  Sebastian had been so caught up in the joy of seeing him, he had not noticed that a crowd had gathered around them, until loud chatter filled his ears.

  Men and women lined the wall gazing across to the other side. The Basilian men stood proudly beside their king, awaiting orders.

  “Your father?” King Boden stepped up beside him. The queen stood silently at his side.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. King Roland of Basilia.”

  “Very well,” King Boden said. “How many days until he and I can dine together?”

  Queen Sonya patted the ki
ng’s belly. “Even when matters are urgent his thoughts are of food.”

  “With the number of men he brought,” Sebastian said, “you should have your new bridge in a half month. Then, you can dine.”

  Trumpets of a different tone sounded. His father waved his arm and motioned the men into Black Wood, then once again cupped his hands to his mouth. “Tomorrow we begin!”

  Sebastian had so much he wanted to say to him, he struggled with a reply. “Thank you!”

  The simple words were not nearly enough. For now, they would have to do. He placed the spyglass to his eye and watched the men disburse into the forest, following their king.

  Jonah turned and waved a final time and was the last to go. Sebastian hoped his father would discuss the contents of the letter with him. Sebastian himself was anxious to have a lengthy conversation with Jonah. Not only would it be enjoyable, but imperative.

  As king, his father had many concerns and did not need to be burdened over the whereabouts of a supposed dead man. Sebastian trusted Jonah to help him, and he intended to keep him close.

  Someone had to be there for Olivia if Sebastian were to fall.

  Chapter 34

  Excitement spread through Padrida.

  Olivia was just as enthusiastic as the young women who gathered at the wall to watch the men at work. Though her heart was already taken, these ladies had much to gain. They chattered, giggled, and pointed until the sound of the evening bell, at which time they waved their farewells to the Basilian men.

  Olivia understood the attraction. After all, a Basilian had captured her heart.

  She and Sebastian continued their daily walks, and since she would be leaving soon, she asked many more questions. He answered each one like a passionate storyteller, engaged in the telling.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said, while taking a seat in the courtyard. “As I told you, our castle rises high into the sky. The turret is seven floors up.”

  “Seven floors?” She sighed, unable to imagine something so tall.

  Orman stood close by kicking his heels against the well wall. Disgusted did not describe him well enough. He looked as if he could spit fire.