One Knight Enchanted: A Medieval Romance (Rogues & Angels Book 1)

by Claire Delacroix

  Without even glancing her way, Yves strode to his destrier and mounted.

  Fear rose within Annelise. Perhaps he only waited until they were upon the road to speak to her. He would not want to back down before all these soldiers and Bertrand.

  But there was a resolute set to her younger brother’s lips that troubled her.

  It would be the convent for her.

  The horses snorted, their breath making clouds in the cold air. Squires blew on their hands to keep warm, and the gatekeeper looked to be wearing every garment he owned.

  Another burly man stamped his feet as he paced back and forth in the tollbooth, although at this early hour, no traveling merchants had yet reached the pass. Annelise was not surprised that Tulley—and Beauvoir—had no intention of failing to collect any coin due.

  The portcullis protested with a squeal as it was hauled skyward. Yves cast a stern glance over his party, but did not meet his sister’s gaze before leading the group toward the gate. Bertrand and his wife had not even come to say farewell. Annelise’s heart felt as cold as the snow around her.

  Unlike the last time, when she had been sent to the nuns for her education, Annelise would never be able to leave the cloister again.

  She would be consigned to a lifetime of silence.

  She would be alone, entrusted to the care of an abbess who was a complete stranger, surrounded by yet more strangers.

  And there would be no hope of respite.

  It had been the hope of a future beyond the convent walls that had made the cloister bearable before. That and the dreadful secret Annelise had confided in none, a secret that held no fear for her any longer, yet still left its legacy in her thoughts. Her throat tightened that once again she would be banished for being an inconvenience in the lives of men.

  The choices were impossible, though. As sad as it was, the convent was the best of the array of poor choices.

  Annelise lifted her chin as their little party left the shelter of Beauvoir. The portcullis dropped behind them with a clang that echoed in Annelise’s own bones. Outside the gates, the wind was strong and cold. It burrowed beneath all the layers of clothing she wore.

  Pine trees covered in fresh snow flanked the road. Rocky cliffs above disappeared into the low clouds. The morning was as colorless and cold as a tomb. The party was silent as the wind cavorted about them, and the horses bent their heads as they headed southward.

  Curse Yves! Annelise thought as she blinked back angry tears. Curse Quinn! Curse one brother for making her choose and the other for ensuring that she could not remain safely at home! Curse these meddling men who would dictate her fate!

  But they were not the ones who would be condemned to live their lives in silence and prayer.

  The house of the Sisters of Ste. Radegund was outside Tulley’s lands, nestled in the forest on the south face of the mountains. It was a secluded place, well away from the traffic and temptations of the secular world.

  Once through the pass, the party turned away from the straight Roman road, onto a track that trailed eastward through the woods. The horses’ hooves stirred the snow as they proceeded. Annelise took little interest in their direction, although Yves and the men frequently dismounted and conferred over the trail.

  The snow had hidden much of it and Annelise took a grim satisfaction in the inconvenience of delay. She was not in a hurry to begin her life as a bride of Christ, even if it meant spending more time in the cold.

  The sky was darkening when Yves drew his steed to a halt once more. Annelise, riding directly behind him, slowed her own beast. Although it had been two years since she had ridden this road, she knew that they had ridden far too long.

  She would have expected them to arrive after noon, with plenty of time for the men to ride back to Beauvoir.

  But twilight was falling and only snow and leafless trees greeted her sight in every direction. She should have seen the roof of the convent or the plume of smoke from its fires. She might have heard the bells. But only the clatter of barren branches in the wind carried to Annelise’s ears. She shivered and huddled in her cloak, feeling the chill more deeply now that she knew there might not soon be any relief.

  “We could return to Beauvoir,” she suggested.

  One of the knights snorted and Yves ignored her comment. “I think it must be this way,” he said, and Annelise heard the doubt in his tone.

  It was then that the wolves began to howl.

  One howled first, far to the left of the path they followed and they all froze at the sound. The call was chilling, and the men exchanged glances of concern.

  Then another wolf responded from the right side of the trail. Its cry was much closer than the first and made the hair on the back of Annelise’s neck prickle.

  She looked to Yves in alarm. “Surely the convent cannot be far?” she asked. “We could at least seek haven there.”

  “In truth,” Yves confessed heavily, “I do not know.” He pushed his hand through his hair, which made him look very young. “The snow upon the path must have led us astray. We should have arrived hours ago.”

  “Could we have passed the convent by?” one of the other men asked.

  Two more wolves howled. They were even closer, and Annelise could not tell whether they were the same as the first two or not. The sky darkened an increment more.

  The autumn had been unseasonably cold, with much early snow. The wolves would be hungry.

  All knew they were bolder in darkness.

  “Surely, Yves, you have some plan in mind!” protested the third man. “We cannot take shelter in the woods with wolves abroad!”

  “I cannot lead you to a hearth without knowing where we are!” Yves flung out his hands in frustration. “Tell me in which direction you would head. My choices have led us far astray.”

  They all peered into the woods about them. Annelise caught her breath, for she saw the silhouettes of the wolves between the trees.

  Their eyes glowed in the shadows as they watched the party.

  She might be fortunate to even reach the convent alive.

  At Yves’ command, the men rallied their steeds hastily about Annelise. The horses snorted nervously, well aware of the scent of wolf in the wind, and stamped with fear.

  A wolf howled to its brethren. The horses shied away from the sound. Annelise stroked her mare’s ears, but the beast was oblivious to her touch. Its ears flicked, and its dark eyes were wide. Annelise felt the creature shudder.

  “Surely there must be somewhere we can take shelter,” she said, fearing it was not so.

  The man beside her drew his blade. “It is too late now, my lady. They are all around us and hungry, unless I miss my guess.”

  Annelise looked into the woods, at the pacing shadows of the predators. “We should flee!”

  “To where?” the man beside her asked. “Wolves are possessed of an unholy cunning and stamina beyond all. They will separate us and dog our steps until our horses fall from exhaustion. At least one of us will pay the price, to be sure.”

  That one of their party—if not more—was doomed to become a meal for these beasts made Annelise’s heart race.

  Yves gathered his reins in his gloved hands. When he spoke, his voice was grim. “We must try to outrun them, even knowing that one of us may fall. I remind you all that you have already given your pledge to protect Annelise.”

  The men grunted in assent.

  “Shall we draw lots or allow Dame Fortune to make the choice?” Yves asked.

  The men barely glanced at each other before responding.

  “Dame Fortune is my choice,” the man beside Annelise replied. “And let our fates fall as they may. May she not be a greedy wench this night and see us all taken.”

  The other two men nodded their agreement, drawing their blades as they watched the wolves’ shadows under the barren trees.

  Yves put a gloved hand over Annelise’s and their gazes clung. “I bid you good fortune, sister of mine,” he said softly, “les
t I not have the opportunity to do so later.”

  Annelise’s heart clenched at the import of his words. She felt the full weight of her guilt. She should never have chosen the convent, not if it meant any of these men should die. “Yves, I never thought...” she began, but Yves tightened his grip over her fingers.

  “It is not your fault,” he said, interrupting her with resolve. “I erred in being as stubborn as you in this. In fact, I erred more by leading us astray this day.” His gaze turned resolute and he was once again the young man she had come to trust. “I wanted only to ensure your safety before I left and I was too stubborn to wait for finer weather.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, making the dimple that graced his chin deepen. “Fare thee well, sister mine,” he whispered.

  “And may you fare well, also.” Her voice broke, but Yves had already moved away.

  “I cannot even count their numbers,” whispered one man.

  “And they are gaunt from this cursed winter,” muttered the third. “Mark my words, they will be bold.”

  “As shall we!” Yves bellowed. The wolves halted and eyed him warily, their eyes glinting silver. “Away to the right with all speed! We circle back to the road. And mind the lady!”

  All four men shouted and gave spurs to their horses at that moment. Their steeds were only too glad to obey the command to run. Annelise’s palfrey raced in their midst, surrounded by the larger horses. The wolves howled and she did not doubt they were fast in pursuit.

  She crouched down as her mare plunged into the forest. The snow crunched underfoot as the horses broke trail, their breath billowing steam into the air. She could feel that her mare was running with all her might.

  The palfrey understood instinctively that whichever horse fell back would be the first to fall.

  Several wolves bayed, and there was the sound of breaking branches. Annelise glanced over her shoulder to see four wolves close in pursuit. She clutched her mare’s reins, her heart in her mouth. Her heels dug into the horse’s side as the wind ripped her hood from her head.

  The mare bolted forward and ran alongside Yves’ steed at breakneck speed, her fear ensuring that she left the other three horses behind.

  “Flee, Annelise!” Yves cried when he saw her. “Do not wait—our armor will be our doom!” He did not wait for her reply. His hand smacked heavily on the mare’s rump.

  It was all the encouragement that horse needed to race even more quickly into the forest, leaving Yves and his men behind.

  Annelise was alone!

  Chapter 3

  Rolfe heard the party of knights in his woods and was relieved by the sound. He cared little about their mission—it was enough for him that they were here, close enough to aid him in gaining his freedom.

  This last month had shown the curse was real, indeed. Rolfe’s skepticism of djinns and their powers had been eliminated by the experience of changing from man to wolf and back to man again with a relentless repetition that echoed the sun’s rise and fall each day.

  The second djinn had proven to be right about the timing. He had spent that first night as a wolf but not another since. Perhaps because night had been falling when she cast her spell, its effect had to wait until sunset the next day. Rolfe did not know.

  He only knew how profound his relief had been when he changed back to a knight.

  And how devastated he had been at the dawn to feel that silver tail again.

  Each night since, as soon as darkness fell, he found himself a man again, but confined inside the palace as surely as he was locked out of it by day. Within the palace, he had every luxury. There was fine fare and a soft bed, a garden of pleasures and his horses to tend. Outside, there was the wilderness and the wolves.

  Each day since, he had taken the form of a wolf and found himself outside the palace walls. He feared to leave the area as a wolf, for he might be hunted and his horses would be abandoned. He dared not leave as a man, for he knew it was several days riding to any abode. He had no desire to be a man alone in the forest at night.

  It was a vexing situation.

  The other wolves avoided him, although the djinn’s acceleration of winter had made them gaunt with hunger. It was as though they knew him to be different, though Rolfe had little desire for their company.

  His life, such as it was, was a lonely business.

  The familiar sound of men and horses brought him running, but not before his fellow wolves had attacked. To Rolfe’s dismay, the largest and meanest wolf had separated one rider from the group.

  A noblewoman. And on a small palfrey. Though the horse was quick-footed in terror, Rolfe knew the lady had no chance against the wolf’s determination.

  The oath of knighthood he had sworn years before burned in his heart. Though he might be condemned to look like a wolf, Rolfe was yet a knight to his marrow.

  There was only one thing he could do.

  He gave chase, hoping that the large wolf would be satisfied with the horse. Somehow, Rolfe would save this woman, even if he had to pay the price with his own miserable existence.

  There was nothing else a man of honor could do.

  The palfrey ran like the wind. The stark silhouettes of the trees danced past in endless succession as Annelise sought some glimpse of a sanctuary ahead. She would call back to Yves if she found one. She would see them all saved.

  But the carpet of snow appeared endless.

  The sounds of the other horses faded behind her, but she could not have slowed her palfrey to save her life. The beast was possessed of such terror that it might run to Outremer. It cared little for its footing and Annelise feared she would be thrown, that both of them would be injured. She tried murmuring to the horse and stroking its neck, to no discernible effect.

  When she heard an anguished cry, her mouth went dry.

  Had one of the men fallen prey to the wolves?

  Surely it could not be Yves.

  Annelise dared to look back, but she could not see the other riders. Their shouts carried to her ears and she was certain they fought a battle. She tried to turn her horse about, but then she saw a lone wolf loping through the forest directly toward her.

  It had separated from the pack. It was large and its gaze chillingly cold. Too late Annelise realized that she had only a very small eating blade with which she might protect herself.

  Then she saw that a second wolf dogged the footsteps of the first, and her heart sank to her toes.

  Even if she defied the odds and outran the first wolf, the second would still claim her life. Annelise clutched the reins. The palfrey ran on, as yet unaware of these two wolves in close pursuit.

  The sounds of the men faded even more.

  Annelise was alone.

  She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the first wolf leap clear of the forest. It trotted in the tracks of her horse, not more than ten paces behind. It neither drew closer nor fell farther back.

  Just as the man-at-arms had said, the beast would follow her until the horse collapsed.

  What a patient and cunning creature.

  Perhaps she could outrun the fiend. Annelise dug her heels into her palfrey’s ribs. The mare’s nostrils quivered in fear and a shudder ran over its flesh. It must have smelled the wolf, for it spurted ahead more quickly at Annelise’s command.

  The wolf loped behind, keeping the same distance, as though aware that it was only a matter of time.

  Annelise was unnerved to know the wolf’s intent and be powerless all the same. She leaned over the mare, urging the creature onward, but the horse stepped suddenly on a patch ice.

  It whinnied in terror and threw back its head as it slipped.

  The wolf did not miss a moment.

  Annelise looked back to see long white fangs bared all too close. She screamed. The horse fought to regain its footing, but fell on the ice. It landed hard on its rump, hooves flailing as it slid further on the ice. Annelise only managed to jump from the saddle in time, then she slipped on the ice, as well. Sh
e fell, realizing that the ice covered a small creek. At the perimeter, there were small stones and she crawled toward them.

  She looked back in time to see the wolf jump. Annelise screamed again and threw a stone at the wolf. The stone hit its back but the beast was undeterred. The mare shrieked as the wolf’s claws dug into its rump, and the wolf bared its teeth again.

  Blood flowed from the mare’s flank and Annelise seized another rock. She flung it at the wolf and hit the back of its head. It raised its head to snarl at her and the horse struggled to rise. Annelise fought to her feet and lunged at the wolf, her eating knife in her hand.

  “Not my mare,” she whispered with heat and lunged for the wolf. The wolf’s eyes were so cold that she knew she would be next and she did not care. It snarled and eased closer to her, choosing its moment. Annelise held the knife before herself, not even daring to blink. The mare stumbled up the bank of the stream, blood running from its flank, and Annelise hoped it would escape.

  She feared they would both die.

  The wolf suddenly jumped toward her, its jaws stained with the mare’s blood.

  There was a blur of silver fur as the second wolf attacked the first, taking it to the ground. Annelise stared as the two rolled on the ground, biting and snapping, battling for supremacy. The second wolf paused and lifted its head, then barked at her, baring its teeth.

  As if it meant to tell her to run.

  The first wolf snarled and the pair fought again.

  Annelise fled after the horse, seizing its reins and urging it onward. She did not know where they ran, and the trail of blood that the mare left in the snow would certainly send any wolf quickly after them.

  They had a reprieve and she hoped it would be enough.

  She was not surprised some time later to hear the soft patter of his footfalls in the snow behind her. She cast a glance over her shoulder to find the second wolf close behind. He was large, too, but of a paler hue of silver than the one that had attacked her first.

  The mare smelled him and whinnied, charging onward despite her injuries. Annelise ran alongside the mare, certain the predator waited only for their inevitable exhaustion.