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

by Claire Delacroix

  No, there was something greater afoot.

  She could not dispel her own suspicion that a demon had been invoked. She had never given credit to the notion of them existing in truth, but here was evidence aplenty.

  If a demon held her husband in thrall, that would explain his heated reaction the night before. He had shown time and again that he was protective of Annelise, and it made sense he would fear for her welfare. Of course, he would not wish her to invoke the demon or be compelled to face his wrath.

  It would also explain why her husband had not been able to confide in her as he had promised he would. Yes, a demon might refuse to keep his word. They were reputed to be untrustworthy.

  But why was he so adamant that she not see his face? He was not scarred or disfigured.

  He must fear that she would recognize him. Annelise could not imagine that might occur, but if her husband feared as much, he must have good reason. Perhaps he recognized her.

  Annelise blinked. She knew few knights, to be sure, having spent so many years in the convent. But perhaps he had seen her at Tulley’s château or had ridden in the company of Yves. They did resemble each other.

  By the time she had broken her fast, Annelise was resolved. If there was a spell or a curse laid upon him, she would have to break it and free her husband. She would spend the day exploring the palace again, seeking hints that might be of aid.

  And she must see his face. If she knew something of his origins, that might aid in her quest. He could only be hiding himself from view because she might well recognize him, and Annelise needed every bit of assistance she could find to win her spouse’s freedom.

  Rolfe was more vexed than he might have believed possible. Despite the fact that he had loved Annelise more thoroughly, he yet again found himself transformed into a wolf. He could have shouted in rage that day in the forest, but instead, his protest came out as a howl. He hated that he had been unable to keep his pledge to her and felt like a cur for deceiving her at all.

  It was wrong.

  He paced all of that day, wanting only to be back at his lady’s side.

  Yet Annelise was not slow of wit. Her guesses showed a fearsome accuracy. She might guess all the truth without him confiding in her at all!

  Rolfe halted in the forest and looked back toward the palace. She might guess his truth. What if she learned of the curse, but not from him? What if the palace revealed his situation to her? He would not have confided in her directly then, so perhaps she would not lead a killer to his side.

  Even if she did, even inadvertently, if he was his own self all of the time, he could defend them both from any foe.

  Rolfe eyed the palace. He thought of Annelise, her fire and passion, her loyalty and her persistence.

  Then he wished.

  I wish that my lady wife should find something in the palace that would help us to break the curse.

  It was done.

  The sun was already setting, so Rolfe hastened back to the palace.

  He strode through the gates as soon as they opened and turned his steps toward the stables. He had not seen Annelise in the garden and he wished to greet her fully dressed this time. There was a bath awaiting him in the stables, yet another reminder that the palace served his whim.

  The water was hot and he welcomed the sense of being clean again. He wished he had not left his clothes and the cloak in the bed chamber, only to see that they were folded and clean, waiting on the bench with his mail and armor. He dressed with satisfaction, taking a moment to rub his destrier’s nose and talk to the great beast. Judging by the position of the saddle and the gleam of Mephistopheles’ coat, Annelise had ridden him again today.

  The horses had plenty of food and water, and he noted the presence of a second palfrey stabled with the first. She was a pretty mare and friendly, the healing wound on her flank telling him of her identity.

  Rolfe left the stables with purpose, wondering what his inquisitive wife might have found. He pulled up his hood as he walked, hoping he would not have to hide from her much longer.

  Perhaps some puzzles did not have a key.

  Annelise returned to the palace, exhausted and discouraged after another fruitless hunt. She had ridden the destrier again because he seemed to expect it, but she had not addressed the horse by name. The sun was setting and she expected that her husband would appear soon. She hurried to the chamber, hoping there might be a bath waiting for her.

  But there was a book on the low table, one that had not been there before.

  Annelise stood on the threshold of the chamber where she found her meals thrice a day and eyed the massive volume.

  No, it had not been there before. She would have remembered a book of such splendor. Even the nuns had possessed few so wondrous as this one.

  The book was bound in dark green leather and adorned with elaborate gold filigree. On closer inspection, she realized it was more lavish than any book she had ever examined before.

  But books, particularly weighty ones, did not simply appear out of thin air.

  Of course, many other things did in this palace.

  Annelise crossed the chamber and tried to pick it up. It was a heavy tome, as thick as her hand was wide, and layered with dust. It was large, as well, its height more than the distance from her elbow to her fingertips. She blew the dust off the cover and sneezed as the resulting cloud enveloped her.

  She opened the book cautiously, then grimaced. Its contents were inscribed in a beautiful but unfamiliar script. She could not read it.

  Who could read it?

  Was this the script of the infidels? Annelise had no way of knowing for certain. She might have had a moment’s uncertainty, but she already knew that her husband was no infidel. He had ridden to Outremer on crusade, with the insignia of the King of France on his standard. He was as Christian as she—perhaps more so, if the opinion of the nuns was solicited.

  Had the lady who had given him the palace been an infidel?

  There was an interesting notion and just cause by every law in the land for him to have dispatched the lady as a foe. Annelise hoped he had not done as much, all the same. Were knights not sworn to defend women and children?

  She frowned and closed the book, hearing his step behind her in the courtyard.

  She turned and her heart skipped at the sight of him, even though his hood was drawn over his head and she could not see his features.

  She would exhaust him, she decided in that moment, exhaust him and steal a look at him in the night before he could stop her.

  “What is that?” he asked as he came to a halt beside her. His arm slid around her waist and Annelise turned to him, lifting her face for his kiss. He did not disappoint but kissed her with sweet heat, his tenderness convincing her even more that he was a man of great merit.

  “I meant to ask you as much. I found it here, just this moment.”

  He leaned over and opened the book, scanning its contents. “Ah, written in the script of the infidels.”

  “Can you read it?”

  He shook his head. “Not me.” She felt the weight of his glance upon her. “Can you read it?”

  “I can read Latin, thanks to the nuns, but not this.”

  “The nuns,” he echoed. “Tell me about the nuns.”

  “There is little to tell. I was sent to the establishment of the Sisters of Ste. Radegund for my education.”

  There was laughter in her husband’s words when he replied. “And who was taught to consider the world in a new way? The nuns or you?”

  “You mock me!”

  “I tease you, my Annelise. I cannot imagine that you found it easy to be consigned to silence and obedience.”

  He did not say that as if it was a bad trait.

  “I did not. I despised it there.”

  “Yet you were intent upon returning to that cloister when you arrived here.”

  “I meant to escape an arranged marriage,” Annelise admitted. “We departed from Beauvoir keep at dawn, but b
ecame lost. The path to the convent was obscured by the snow.” She shivered in recollection. “Then the wolves attacked.”

  “And instead of escaping an arranged marriage, you were required to accept another one.”

  “That is true, sir.” She spared him a smile. “Though the terms were not marriage or death the first time.”

  “Which explains your change of perspective.” There was no condemnation in his tone and Annelise thought perhaps he sympathized with her plight. He gestured and she sat down, then he sat opposite her. “And what do you mean to do about that, if ever you leave this palace?”

  “Do?” Annelise frowned in confusion. “I do not understand.”

  “Will you seek an annulment?” His tone was light, but she felt his intense interest in her reply.

  How strange that she already came to rely upon his presence in her life, even after so few days, even knowing so little of him. She spared a glance to the palace and tried to imagine being without her enigmatic, resolute, passionate spouse. She failed.

  Did he mean to abandon her?

  “Our match has been consummated, sir,” she said with care.

  “You could accuse me of claiming what was not mine to take.”

  “I would not do as much!” Annelise was appalled by the suggestion. “We are wed. We have exchanged our vows. We are bound to each other, sir, until death us do part.”

  The words seemed to startle him rather than reassure him, much to her surprise. “But there are no witnesses of our vows, Annelise, and no record of them in any parish church. You could deny them and it would be only my word against yours.”

  A lump rose in Annelise’s throat. “I have your ring, sir,” she reminded him tightly.

  “And so you do. I wonder only if you might choose to lose it once you know more of me.”

  Annelise understood then that her husband’s secret was a fearsome one. Perhaps his caution was deserved. Perhaps he did not understand that she took her vows most seriously, whether there had been a witness or not.

  “There is only one way to know for certain, sir.” She dared to reach out and put her hand over his. “You could tell me of yourself.”

  He recoiled, but she continued before he could protest. “I am a prisoner within these walls. Regardless of what you confide in me, I cannot flee. I cannot share such tidings with any other soul.” She shrugged. “Well, I could tell the horses, but I doubt that they care.”

  He laughed then, laughed as if she had surprised him. She thought that he was not displeased. “You are right, my Annelise. Your thinking is most clear.” He laid his hand upon the book again, turning it so that he could open it once more. “How curious that you should find this today.”

  His tone hinted that he did not find it curious at all, which made Annelise wonder.

  “Perhaps someone left it for me,” she said, convinced that it had been him. “But that makes no sense as I cannot read it.”

  He was turning the pages and paused at an elaborate spread. “Look at this,” he said with awe. “These calligraphers possessed such skill.” And he touched the script with his fingertip, as if to caress it in admiration.

  The letters shimmered for a moment. When the light faded, they were different. Annelise hastened to her husband’s side to look down at the book. It was written in the Latin script with which Annelise was familiar.

  “How did you do that?” she demanded.

  He shook his head. “I do not know.” He closed the book and opened it again, but the script remained legible.

  “I suppose nothing should surprise me any longer in this palace,” she murmured and her husband chuckled. He cleared his throat and began to read.

  There were, there were not, in the oldness of time, twin daughters born to a djinn and his wife. Herein lies the tale of Leila and Kira, twins born to Azima and Azzam. They were matched in looks but not in manner...

  “A djinn and his wife?” Annelise let her skepticism show. “This is no more than a fable for children.”

  “Is it?” her husband asked in a low voice.

  “Clearly, it is, and as such, it is of no use whatsoever.”

  “How so?”

  “We have no children and I feel no inclination for idle entertainment.”

  He considered her for a long moment and yet again, she wished she could have seen his eyes. The book must be of import.

  Before she could reach for it and read more, he swept to his feet and caught her hand in his. “Come for a stroll in the garden, my lady. I would talk to you while dinner is prepared.”

  “But the book...”

  “Will remain at your disposal, should you care to entertain yourself during the day.” He spoke with a resolve that surprised Annelise, as if he was giving a command. When she looked back, the book had been moved to another table and a cloth had been spread upon the low table.

  Dinner was being prepared.

  “I still do not see your servants,” she noted.

  He tucked her hand into his elbow and led her into the garden. “I misled you, my Annelise. I have never seen servants in this palace either, though it seems they must exist.”

  Annelise caught her breath, sensing that something had changed. Her husband was not avoiding her questions but seemed inclined to answer them this night.

  That could only be an excellent portent.

  Chapter 7

  The lady was right. Rolfe could not believe his own folly.

  Annelise could not lead a killer to his side when she was trapped within the walls of the palace. And even if she left, where could she go and who might she summon? There was forest in every direction.

  Not to mention the wolves.

  By her own admission, Beauvoir was a day’s ride away and she did not know the route. He heartily doubted that she would even attempt such a long journey alone after her experience with the wolves.

  No, he could tell her of the spell and she could help him to break it. They would solve this conundrum together and that would be the foundation of their match. Rolfe felt like a fool for not realizing the truth sooner.

  He would not tell Annelise all of the details, of course, for that might make him vulnerable, but he believed he could share the root of the trouble.

  She inhaled deeply beside him, glancing back toward the chamber. “Venison stew,” she said with satisfaction.

  Rolfe wondered at her tone, even though he recalled her enthusiasm for the fare on her first night in the palace. “Do you not like it?”

  “I adore it! It is my favorite meal, and I do not mind if it continues to be dinner every night.”

  “It probably will be, then,” Rolfe acknowledged.

  “How so?”

  “The palace serves my will and my desire is that you should be pleased.”

  She blushed a little then and he wondered how often any one had put her desires first. “Why were you raised in a convent?” He knew little about Quinn’s family history, only that his comrade had a sister.

  “My mother died,” she said quickly, so quickly that Rolfe thought there might be more to that tale. “The overlord decided a young girl would be better raised in a convent than in a household of men.”

  That sounded reasonable enough. “Have you siblings?”

  “An older brother, said to be a wicked tyrant and cruel beyond compare,” she said with a shiver. Rolfe frowned at this description of temperate Quinn. “And a younger one, my father’s bastard. Yves was just awarded his spurs by the Lord de Tulley. He intended to fight in the tourneys and earn his fortune.”

  “But?”

  “He was escorting me to the convent when the wolves attack. I do not know his fate.” She bit her lip then, looking so uncertain that Rolfe wished to ride out immediately and find the truth. Then she took a deep breath and glanced up at him with a smile. “And you, sir?”

  “One brother, no more than that.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older and heir to our family holding.”


  “Which is why you rode to crusade.”

  “Indeed.” They came to a halt beside the bed of roses and Rolfe picked one lush blossom, cutting the stem with his knife. He presented it to his lady with a little bow, and she buried her nose in it, abandoning herself to the pleasure of its scent. He watched her, his chest clenching that this lady was his wife.

  “They smell so wondrous.”

  “Aye, they do.” Rolfe turned and offered his arm again, liking how she leaned against him as they walked back to their chamber. “Perhaps we should grow them wherever we live.”

  “But this is your palace. Do you not mean to remain here?”

  Rolfe did not truly know what would happen to the palace when the curse was broken. “I had hoped to return home for the Yule.”

  “We had best depart soon, then, sir,” she replied, showing a welcome practicality. “Depending on the distance, we might already be too late.”

  Rolfe took a deep breath. “There is something we must do first, my lady. You guess aright that I have been cursed. We must break the curse before we can leave this palace together.”

  “A curse? I knew it!” She rounded upon him, a marvel in her concern for his welfare. “You must change the name of your destrier, for invoking demons is folly beyond all else...”

  Rolfe dropped a finger to her lips to silence her. “It was no demon,” he whispered. “It was a djinn.”

  Annelise gasped and her eyes widened. “This is a djinn’s palace,” she whispered. “She was the lady who built it.”

  “And she was compelled to give it to me, which did not please her.”

  “So, she cursed you!” Bright color burned in Annelise’s cheeks and her eyes flashed with fury on his behalf. “What a wretched deed to do!” She clutched at his hand. “Can the curse be broken? What must we do?”

  Rolfe smiled that he had made the right choice. Annelise was devoted to his cause already, and their working together could only improve matters. “Here is the part about breaking the curse,” he said, then recalled the precise words uttered by the second djinn.