The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  Bethany lay stiffly against his body until she felt him relax against her and heard his breathing deepen. Once she knew he was fast asleep she was able to rest. After a long wait, she finally fell asleep.

  Bethany rolled over at Erin’s touch, her hand going up to the scarred side of his face. Without thinking about what she was doing, she pushed herself up and pressed her lips against his. He responded willingly, one hand wrapping around her back and pulling her against his chest. The kiss deepened as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. Bethany felt a groan of pleasure rise up through her throat just as Erin grabbed her shoulder and began to shake her entire body.

  What is he doing? This isn’t romantic.

  The princess woke with a jerk, momentarily confused by her surroundings. She batted at Erin, who was still shaking her.

  “You were groaning in your sleep. You okay?” he asked when he realized she was awake.

  “Just a dream.”

  “What the hell sort of dream was that?”

  Bethany felt her face blaze with a dark blush. “Nothing. I-I can’t remember now.”

  “Oh c’mon. Tell me what you were dreaming about.”

  “I can’t tell you when I don’t remember.”

  “I can always tell when you’re lying,” he said, leaning toward her a little.

  Bethany tried to pull back, but was too well wedged between his body and their pile of blankets to put any distance between them. He seemed to notice her discomfort and pulled away himself.

  “Fine, keep your secrets.”

  He wasn’t upset. In fact, Bethany thought he might just know what she was hiding. Had she talked in her sleep? A new blush washed over the last.

  “Did I say something in my sleep?”

  “Nah. Just moaned a little.”

  Another blush replaced the last. Torture won’t get that secret from me, she decided as she scrambled out from under their coverings.

  In record time, Bethany was ready to depart. She knew Erin was concerned by her silence, but every time she looked at him the dream returned to her mind and with it came yet another blush. Finally, Bethany settled for discussing their plans. The new topic seemed to ease her discomfort, and the more she relaxed the more he stopped looking at her.

  After a long trudge through the deep snow, they stumbled upon a main road. Erin drew them to a stop, staring at the pathway. The road was still covered in a thick layer of snow, but the width of the opening between the trees had allowed the wind to sweep the worst of it away. If they chose to take the proper road, they would move much faster.

  Bethany waited, holding her breath in anticipation. If he asked her, she would vote for the road. She wanted this nightmare to end. Whatever her new life in Dothan might look like, it couldn’t be as bad as freezing to death in the White Cap Mountains, or defending themselves from thieves, or being captured by old friends. Bethany was ready to face her family and take whatever they offered her.

  Erin turned in his saddle to look at her. He must have read the eagerness in her features.

  “Let’s take the road,” he said. “I doubt we’ll meet anyone with this snowfall.”

  Bethany agreed and turned down the road. The difference was instantly clear. The horses’ breathing eased and their tread became easier, lighter. Bethany’s gash hurt less as Galindo’s strides evened out.

  They rode in silence for a long while. Bethany kept trying to think of something to talk about, if for no other reason than to keep her thoughts from her disturbing dream, but the more she considered her options the more she came up empty. After three months on the road together, half of that on good terms, they had discussed everything she was willing to share with him.

  There were plenty of stories to tell from her childhood, but most of them just showed how selfish she had once been, and Bethany didn’t much care to reveal that fault any more than she had to. She would have loved to hear stories from his childhood, but the more she asked the more he grew quiet.

  Bethany remembered one day when she had accidentally seen a slave brand on his leg, very similar to the mark on her own leg. Runaway slaves were branded on the leg for their first offense, but if they tried to run again the brand would be on their neck. A third offense would mean death.

  When had Erin been a slave? Bethany had asked him, but it had been early in their journey, long before they had any sort of camaraderie between them.

  “Erin?”

  “Hmm?”

  “That mark on your leg… were you once… a-a slave?” she asked, her voice nearly giving out on her.

  Erin was silent for a moment before answering. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Will you tell me what happened?” she asked as she urged Galindo into a faster walk in order to come along side Éimhin; as she did so, she glanced back to make sure Dinner was still behind them, only remembering at the last moment that the poor little donkey was dead.

  “Like the stories of so many, Wolfric’s army destroyed my village, taking anyone they thought could work and selling them into slavery. Our village didn’t have much to plunder other than its people. My sister and I were both sold. My parents were executed.”

  “You have a sister?” Bethany was astonished; this was the first she had heard of a sister.

  “Had a sister.”

  “She dead?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Erin,” Bethany chided gently. “What happened?”

  And so Erin told her about Wolfric’s game. How the king had used his sister to keep him under his thumb. Erin had spent years tracking his sister down, only to find out her master had sold her at the orders of Wolfric a day or two before. When Erin finally saw his sister for the first time since their childhood, ready to buy her freedom with every ounce of gold he had saved, she had refused him. She had become the mistress of a powerful Aardê lord and preferred to stay in his company.

  They were both silent when he finally finished his story. Bethany had no idea how he had suffered, much less how Wolfric had manipulated him. Bethany remembered one time asking Erin how he could continue to work for Wolfric. She had never imagined the knight would have a valid reason to continue as a knight of the Aardê court.

  “I’m sorry, Erin.”

  “Why? Not like you taught my sister to be a whore.”

  “No. I mean… I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I’m sorry I thought you just another Aardê. That wasn’t fair.”

  “You never can tell about a person from their appearances. There is always a story.”

  “True.”

  They rode in silence for a long time. Bethany’s mind and heart were full as she left her horse to follow Éimhin. It had been many weeks since Bethany realized she like Erin, but now she felt a tenderness for him she had not yet experienced. It wasn’t just his hard life, she decided. It was his devotion to his sister, and now that same devotion being given to her. Erin was a dear friend, she finally admitted, despite the fact he had once been the one whipping and tormenting her.

  “Would you look at that,” called Erin a few minutes later, effectively drawing Bethany from her introspection.

  Bethany looked up to see a large stone marker on the side of the road. Though a dusting of snow still covered its peak, it was clear someone had recently been by and cleaned it. On the stone structure read the words:

  “To the Princess Bethany Kavadh. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Her enchanting grace will never be forgotten.”

  “I told you you’re enchanting,” smirked Erin.

  “They really do think I’m dead,” Bethany said, more to herself than to her companion.

  “Won’t this be a surprise?”

  Despite her current discouragement, a grin spread across Bethany’s face.

  Leave it to Erin to make a joke out of this, she thought as she smiled at the knight. “Wonder if they’ll take it down?” she asked out loud.

  “Let’s hope so. Rather garish.”

  Bethany stuck her tongue out at him before sayi
ng, “I don’t know. I kinda like it.”

  She gave him a wink before urging Galindo away from the garish headstone. Though she would never admit it to Erin, she agreed with him. It was ridiculous to spend that kind of money during wartime. Still, seeing the proof that her family considered her dead left a hole in her gut. She wanted to cry, but had to admit that there wasn’t really anything to cry about. It was natural for them to assume she was dead.

  Bethany suddenly realized why the marker made her sad. It was the same thing that always made her sad when it came to her mind: they would be happier if she would just stay dead. Her family couldn’t, wouldn’t, love her as she was now: scarred, broken, and bleeding.

  “You’ve gone contemplative, again,” said Erin.

  “Sorry.”

  “Tombstone get you down?”

  Bethany nodded without realizing it.

  “Just remember, Bethany, you’re not actually dead,” Erin said gently, all mockery gone from his voice.

  “Maybe I am and you’ve just gone completely crazy. I could be a figment of your imagination.”

  “Nah. My imagination isn’t that creative.”

  Bethany laughed.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A week later, Bethany and Erin finally entered the town of Carthind. Erin looked around, unimpressed with his surroundings, but Bethany had tears in her eyes. Carthind was the home of her sister, Mara Drust and her husband Josef. Every street of this town was familiar to her. She had spent many happy weeks each year visiting her sister and her seven nieces and nephews.

  “This way,” she said to Erin who was prepared to continue through the city.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because, a mile down this way is the seat of my sister and her husband Lord Drust. We can spend the night at their home.”

  Erin didn’t say anything, but followed her down a wide side street. A few minutes later a large keep, surrounded by its own walls, came into view. Bethany blinked the moisture from her eyes as she stared at the familiar sight. It was like a second home to her.

  Bethany took the lead as they approached the closed gatehouse.

  Why is it closed? she wondered as she pulled Galindo to a stop.

  A guard came up to the portcullis and glared at them. “What you want?”

  “I have come to see Lady Drust,” she said, choosing at the last second to use her sister’s formal title; a worry was beginning to take shape in the back of her mind.

  “You?” chortled the guard, his eyes drifting over her worn and stained clothing.

  “I am Pri…”

  “Anne,” called Erin from behind her.

  She turned to stare at him. He shook his head minutely before urging his horse up to the gatehouse.

  “Are the lord and lady at home?” asked Erin in a deferential voice.

  “As a matter o’ fact, they ain’t,” said the guard. “They’re in Dothan, with the Queen Mother. It’s almost the anniversary of the princess’ death. They’re with the family.”

  “But I’m the…”

  “Thank you,” said Erin, once again cutting off Bethany’s words. “Let’s go, Anne.”

  Bethany clamped her teeth down on her tongue until it hurt and followed Erin away from the gatehouse.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Do you really think you look anything like you did a year ago? Only someone who really knew you is going to be able to recognize you. Certainly not a guard of your sister’s, who may have not even worked for her the last time you visited. Besides, your sister wasn’t even there.”

  “You still could have let me tried to explain.”

  “And if they thought your story a bunch of bull, as they most certainly would, do you think they’d let you just walk away, after impersonating a much-loved but very dead princess? Personally I don’t want to go back to the stockades.”

  Bethany grumbled to herself. He was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. She had been so close to something resembling home and, like anyone would have, she got her hopes up.

  Just another day or two and we’ll be in Dothan, she reminded herself, repeatedly.

  Before they could make new plans, a voice rang out a few blocks down the street. “Make way for the king!” called the herald. “Make way for King Gilead!”

  Bethany pulled Galindo around to look at the oncoming procession. A large group of mounted and foot soldiers approached, surrounding one central figure: her brother. He rode a large, gray stallion, garbed in his best with his head held high. His sandy brown hair was longer than he usually wore it, and either he had been on the road for many days or he was trying to grow a beard: The result was not impressive.

  Despite his thin beard, he looked just as she had always remembered—strong, focused, and a little arrogant. In a split second, a thousand memories flooded her mind. Gilead throwing her in the horse trough when she annoyed him. Her other brother, Obadyah, defending her from Gilead when the crown prince got angry. Her catching Gilead kissing one of the kitchen maids when he was barely fifteen.

  Bethany dismounted her horse and dragged it to the edge of the road. Other pedestrians were also removing themselves from the path of the oncoming royalty. Erin followed her example and pulled Éimhin to the side of the road.

  “Wait here,” Bethany said as she tossed him the rein to her horse.

  “Wait. What are you doing?” demanded Erin, but it was too late.

  Bethany weaved her way through the crowd to the edge of the pathway. As the procession passed, she began jumping up and down and waving her hands above her head.

  “Gilead! Gilead, it’s me!” she called at the top of her lungs. “Gilead it’s Bethany!”

  “What’re you doing!” barked one of the guards, shoving her back into the crowd.

  Bethany stabled herself before lunging back toward the royal convoy.

  “Gilead! Gilead!”

  “That’s King Gilead to you, scum,” snapped another guard, drawing his sword and marching toward her.

  From somewhere behind her, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the crowd.

  “My apologies, officer. She’s a might touched in the head. Get’s a little confused sometimes. I’ll take her away,” Erin added when the guard continued to bear down on them.

  The guard nodded once before rejoining his peers.

  “What are you doing?” Bethany demanded.

  “Open your eyes,” ordered Erin. “These guards are on high alert. Look at their numbers. This is way more than necessary for a king in his own land. Something is going on. This isn’t gonna work!”

  The procession finished going by followed by another herald. “Clear the streets for curfew. Everyone in doors before sunset. Clear the streets for curfew.”

  “Curfew?” wondered Bethany.

  “This new?” asked Erin.

  “Yes. We’ve never had a curfew before, even when the war first started.”

  “Excuse me miss,” said Erin as he intercepted a woman scurrying across the street. “Is this curfew new?”

  “Where have you been?” demanded the woman, her eyes dropping to the swords hanging from their hips before she dodged past them and ducked into a building.

  “We better find lodging.”

  “Good thing we still have the coins.”

  Erin nodded. The crowd had dispersed enough for them to return to the horses, still standing by a blank wall of what appeared to be a blacksmith. They took the horses’ leads and began wandering the city as the inhabitants hurried toward their final destinations. The sun was setting fast, and Bethany began to worry about being caught out at sunset.

  Just as the streets were beginning to empty, they stumbled upon an inn. Erin knocked on the door and stepped back. The door jerked open to reveal a grizzled faced man, his cheeks covered in two days of growth and his head devoid of hair.

  “What?” he snapped, his eyes ranging over the empty road.

  “We’re looking for a room.”

&
nbsp; Like the woman before, the man’s eyes dropped to their hips and their swords. “Not welcome,” growled the man, beginning to shut the door.

  Erin jumped forward and stuffed his foot into the doorway.

  “What is going on? Why are we not welcome?”

  “No swords. You know the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  The innkeeper glanced around again. “You new?”

  “We’ve been traveling for many months. Last time we were here, there was no curfew. What else has changed?”

  “No swords, ‘less your military or a knight.” The man’s eyes ran to the bit of chainmail not covered by his cloak.

  Erin ground his teeth together. “Are you sure you don’t have room? We are just passing through and need a place to get off the streets for the night. Don’t intend to cause trouble.”

  The innkeeper seemed to mull over his words for a second before nodding once. “Round back is a stable. You can bed with your horses. I’ll bring you food. Sorry, best I can do for folks with swords.”

  Erin nodded and stepped away. “Better than the stockade,” he said as he took Éimhin’s reins from Bethany and led them around to the back.

  Behind the little inn they found a five-stall barn, four of the stalls filled with other animals. They took the empty stall, barely fitting both horses and themselves into the little space. They had just unsaddled the animals when the innkeeper returned with a large bowl of stew and a large mug of drink.

  “Three silvers for the stall and two meals.”

  Erin glanced at Bethany and sighed. “Two silvers.”

  “Nope. Three. I taken a risk for you.”

  “Two silvers for the stall and one meal,” Erin countered, nodding toward the food in the man’s hand.

  The innkeeper narrowed his eyes at him for a second before nodding. Erin pulled their last coins out and showed them to the innkeeper. The man nodded and handed the bowl and cup to Bethany before taking the coins from Erin.

  “You be out when the sun’s up and the roads are open again.”

  Erin nodded and turned away from the innkeeper just as the man walked away himself.

  “This will be fun,” Erin said as he settled in straw nest to Bethany.