by Jody Hedlund
But now that I was fleeing for my life, I finally understood why he’d insisted.
Love for both him and Mother swelled painfully in my throat. I pictured them again tied up, their desperate gazes following my departure. My father’s eyes had silently implored me to do whatever I could to break away.
Although I wanted to return to the cottage first and cut them loose, I forced that thought from my mind. I had to make my way to Norland. Though the king’s men had done a thorough job in binding my parents, Father would eventually free himself, and then he and Mother would waste no time in heading north too. They wouldn’t risk staying and having the king’s men recapture and use them again to bait me into doing the king’s will.
The labored breathing of the soldier behind me matched mine. From the burning in my lungs, I wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace for much longer. Hopefully, I could last until I lost my pursuer.
Another unsuccessful grasp at my back was followed by a blow against my lower legs. As my body jolted forward, I cried out, knowing I’d land hard and probably gouge open my hands and arms in bracing my fall. But before I slammed into the underbrush, fingers made contact with my tunic, slowing my momentum so that the force of my plummet knocked the wind from me and skinned my hands but didn’t inflict the damage I’d expected.
I should have used the descent to my advantage, rolling, jumping back up, and slipping away—employing stealth and silence to escape the enemy rather than trying to outrun him. But for a second, I was startled by the gentleness of the hands at my back, the same strong hands that had carried me away from home. Hands that belonged to the commander.
My pause gave him time to secure his grip on my tunic. I wrestled to free myself, twisting and turning and hoping the linen would rip and allow me another opportunity to escape. But he jerked me to my feet and pulled me back so that I tumbled against him. In an instant, his arm wrapped around me, trapping me.
I expected the sting of his knife upon my throat but heard only the harshness of his breathing and felt the rise and fall of his chest.
My mind scrambled to remember any tricks my father had taught me about breaking free from this type of hold. Maybe if I bit him—
“Do not try anything else.” His voice was a low growl. “You might be proficient in the woods, but you will only find I am better.”
I bent my head, intending to sink my teeth into his wrist so that he’d reflexively loosen his grip. But somehow he anticipated my move and linked his other arm around my neck, forcing my head back.
“I did not wish to do this, Princess,” he said. “But you leave me no choice but to tie you up.”
Though I resisted and made the tying difficult, within minutes he’d bound my hands behind my back with his belt and had tied my feet together with strips of my skirt.
“If you try to bite me again,” he said, straightening, “I shall gag you.”
I should have been afraid of this man. His strength and speed, as well as his quickness of mind, surpassed even Father’s abilities. But strangely, I didn’t fear him—at least not for my own well-being. If he’d wanted to hurt me, he could have done so already. Instead, he’d treated me cautiously, even carefully.
Perhaps he was concerned what the king or prince would say if I accrued any injuries or bruises while under his command. Perhaps the king or prince would discipline him, maybe dismiss him from his post.
In one easy swoop, he picked me up as if I weighed no more than a feather coverlet. I expected him to drape me across his shoulder again—something I dreaded. My ribs were sore, and I wasn’t sure I could take anymore jostling. So when he positioned me in both arms, comfortably against his chest, I was surprised.
He whistled through his teeth, which I guessed to be the signal to his men that the search was over. Then he began to carry me back to the camp. From the brief glimpse I’d gained before I’d started running, the soldiers were almost finished packing. They’d be ready to ride out before long, taking me away from everything familiar and safe.
I couldn’t let it happen, but how could I prevent it?
“I’ll get away from you eventually.” I tugged at the binding on my wrists. Although it wasn’t painfully tight, he’d made certain I couldn’t wiggle out.
“You will never get away from me unless I allow it.”
“You think too highly of your abilities.”
“I speak only the truth.”
“Perhaps you’ve proven yourself to the king and prince, but you’ve yet to prove yourself to me.”
“The prince?”
“The one they call Prince Ethelrex.” I wasn’t accustomed to speaking to men. In fact, the only man I’d ever seen or spoken to was Father. And so, I found the interaction quite strange.
“And what do you know of . . . Prince Ethelrex?” The commander’s tone had changed, less hard and more curious.
“I know nothing, and I wish it to remain that way.”
“Nothing at all?” Surprise laced his voice.
“Only my father’s warning that since Adelaide and Maribel are married, the king may try to force me to wed the prince.”
The commander didn’t respond.
Through the darkness, I wished I could read his face, but I could only distinguish his strong jaw and chin. “You can try to take me to him, but if you succeed, I will never marry him.”
“Never is a very strong word, Princess.”
“No one can make me speak wedding vows.”
“The prince can be persuasive when he needs to be.”
“He will find I can be stubborn when I need to be.”
The commander’s stride was long and sure, almost as if he knew the woodland as well as I did. The only sound was his breathing and the crunch of his footsteps until we drew nearer to his camp and heard the other soldiers again.
I had to do something—anything to free myself. If I could distract the commander, take his attention from my hands tied behind my back, I might be able to reach for a knife in his belt and inflict enough injury that I could get away.
“Do you like your master?” I asked.
“My master?”
“The prince.” I stretched my fingers and brushed against the hilt of his sword.
“The prince is the strongest and fiercest warrior in the land.”
“I’m surprised you can admit someone is better than you.” Again, I groped after his weapon, only to have him heft me higher in his arms, far away from any chance of snagging a weapon.
This man was indeed as sharp as he was strong. Perhaps I’d need to wait to make my escape until he placed me under the command of one of his men. Surely he didn’t intend to watch me every second until he handed me over to the prince.
“Is my father’s warning true?” I asked. “Will the prince attempt to marry me?”
“Yes, it is certain he will marry you.”
“Does he not wish to meet me first? What if he cannot bear the sight of me and loathes my very presence?”
“He will marry you regardless of his personal feelings in the matter.”
“I see.” Was the commander insinuating the prince had some hesitations? “Does the prince already love another woman?”
The commander snorted as if my question was ludicrous.
“You do not believe in love, Commander?”
Before he could answer, we stepped through the brush into the clearing where his men had returned and resumed their preparations of packing and loading. A young man wearing the finest garments I’d ever seen approached. I guessed he was close to my age—either eighteen or nineteen. Wavy dark hair framed his aristocratic face along with a pointed beard. I’d only seen one drawing of King Ethelwulf from his younger years, and this man looked almost identical.
Was this Prince Ethelrex? Had he come along on this quest to find me? His clothing and bearing certainly set him apart from the others. But he didn’t seem to be the strongest and fiercest warrior in the land. The commander had likely been resorting to fla
ttering his ruler, was probably accustomed to puffing the prince up to keep him happy.
As the younger man halted in front of us, I expected the commander to bow or incline his head out of respect. But the prince was too focused on me to notice the slight from his commander. His brows rose higher with each passing second of scrutiny.
Was he surprised by my appearance?
A short, stout priest carrying a torch hurried toward us, illuminating the prince’s face even more.
“She is not what I was expecting,” the prince said, his eyes taking on a glimmer that made me want to shrink back and hide.
Unfortunately, I had no place to go except further against the commander. But strangely, within his arms I felt safer than I did facing the prince.
“Her clothing is appalling, and she is in need of grooming,” the prince continued, taking the torch from the priest and holding it above me. “Even so, she is strikingly beautiful.”
He reached out to touch my cheek, and I recoiled, fear pressing hard against my chest.
I was surprised when the commander took a quick step back, pulling me away from the prince. I didn’t know why he’d risk defying his master, but I was grateful nonetheless that he seemed willing to protect me.
But for how long?
“It is regretful you are having so much trouble keeping hold of her.” The prince eyed my bound feet and then my arms tied at my back. “If she attempts to get away again, I shall have no difficulty in subduing her.”
Something in the prince’s tone insinuated a danger I couldn’t begin to understand. I sensed this was a man I would never like or trust. And I most certainly couldn’t marry him. I’d have to redouble my efforts to get away. And soon.
“The princess promises to be on her best behavior from now on,” the commander said. “Do you not, Your Highness?”
Your Highness? No one had ever called me that.
Before I could contradict him, he lowered me to the ground. He held my arm and steadied my awkward balance caused by the binding around my feet. Keeping a firm grip on my elbow, he turned to the priest. “Shall we get on with the wedding with all haste?”
“Right now?” My voice came out a squeak.
“Immediately.” The commander didn’t look at me but rather motioned at his men, who at once abandoned their packs and horses and began to congregate around us.
As though sensing my fear and revulsion, the prince’s lips curled in a slight smile, one that made his eyes glint again. The expression told me I was in for a life of pain and discord if I went through with marrying him. Panic bubbled in my stomach, churning acid. I had to get away. Now.
Darting a glance around the woodland and then the camp, I noticed a knife two dozen paces away, discarded among several other tools. If I could get to it and slit the binding from my feet, I’d take to the trees.
As if sensing my mounting panic, the commander’s fingers tightened and drew me closer to his side.
“There’s no hurry to have the wedding now.” I jerked my arm to free myself. “We can wait until we arrive at Delsworth and have a proper wedding there.”
The priest opened his prayer book.
“The king will want to be involved and witness—”
“The king was the one to suggest the wedding take place immediately after locating you,” the commander said, “which is why Father Patrick is with us.”
I gave one last futile yank of my arm, knowing even if I managed to free myself from the captain’s hold, I wouldn’t be able to get far. Not with so many soldiers surrounding me. “As I said before,” I hissed to the commander, “you cannot make me state my vows.”
“If you do not,” he growled, “I shall send out my fastest men and command them to return with Lance and Felicia.”
“They will be gone by now.”
“Not yet. I made sure of it.”
He was right. It was much too soon for my father to have freed himself.
The commander’s gaze flicked to a man who remained in the shadows at the periphery of the camp. Naked but for his braies, he was tied to a tree with his back exposed, revealing festering blisters and welts. His condition left me no doubt he’d been tortured, and I guessed it was on account of me. Perhaps he was the one whose footprints I’d found earlier in the day.
If the commander could bestow such torment on this man, what might he do to my parents if he caught them again?
I swallowed the rising bile.
“Are we all gathered?” The priest glanced around the half circle behind him before looking at the commander, who gave a curt nod. The priest held up his book, cleared his throat, and began. “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.”
I closed my eyes as if by doing so I could block out the nightmare in which I found myself. But the burning in my stomach kept me all too awake to the fact that I was trapped with no way out.
Chapter
6
Rex
I held myself rigidly and clenched my jaw to keep from commanding Father Patrick to cease the wedding ceremony. I had no wish to start my marriage under such adverse circumstances, forcing the princess to comply by threatening to torture her parents. I would have preferred to wait, to show her the life that would soon be hers, to give her all the luxuries she’d never had, and to allow her to become comfortable with me.
But I had no choice. Whether I liked the conditions or not, I’d marry her as the king had commanded. I understood the urgency—that I had to secure our future together straightaway. Too much was at stake, especially with the queen’s army on the move.
As before, I tugged Emmeline closer to my side. In the torchlight, her delicate features were taut with anguish, and her eyes pinched shut.
A strange sense of self-loathing invaded me. In all these weeks, I’d never once thought about how the princess would feel being snatched from her home and forced to wed me. I’d only thought about how the union would keep a war from breaking out, how it would prevent bloodshed, and how it could be the solution to the fight over the throne. With Emmeline by my side, no one would be able to oppose the kingship, not with both royal families united.
Once I explained to Emmeline all the benefits of our marriage, she’d see the wisdom in it and learn to accept her fate as much as I had. After all, few royal children could choose their own spouses. Such decisions were left to the kings and their advisors and were often political in nature. Surely, she understood the way of things.
Whatever the case, I needed Father Patrick to perform the ceremony as quickly as possible. Before I changed my mind. Once it was done, no one and nothing could undo the marriage—not even me. Our fate and the fate of the rebellion would be sealed.
“Skip all but the essentials.” I interrupted Father Patrick’s rambling. “We need to be on our way.”
“It is all essential,” Father Patrick responded, leveling upon me one of his censuring looks.
“Just the vows. The declaration of being man and wife. Only what is necessary to make the union binding.”
Father Patrick frowned. “You know I’m already having difficulty agreeing to this—”
“There will be a formal ceremony later.” Yes, Father Patrick had voiced his concerns about a forced union on several occasions. I didn’t need him doing so again and undermining my resolve. “Be on with it. We are wasting valuable time.”
With a nod, Father Patrick flipped ahead a page in his prayer book. He cleared his throat and began. “Your Royal Highness, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”
Emmeline’s arm against mine shook, and again self-loathing pulsed through me.
“Wilt thou love her,” he continued, “comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
She tensed as though praying for miraculous intervention, anything that would save her from this moment. If only I coul
d reassure her I never took vows I didn’t intend to uphold, that I truly would do my best to love, comfort, honor, and keep her.
Father Patrick glanced up at me expectantly.
“I will,” I said, adding a silent vow to prove I was a worthy husband.
At my clear declaration, she startled and pulled back as much as she could against my firm grip. I could feel her gaze upon me, studying my profile, almost as if she was seeing me for the first time.
After I’d recaptured her in the woods a few moments ago, I’d realized she didn’t know I was the prince, that she believed I was merely a commander of the elite guards. I’d assumed once we rejoined the camp, she’d quickly discover my true identity. But obviously, she hadn’t.
I slanted her a sideways look.
“You’re Prince Ethelrex?” The brown of her eyes was as rich and thick as sable.
“Yes.”
She shot a glance at Magnus. Had she assumed my brother was the prince? Had she believed she was marrying him instead of me? I supposed after weeks of living in chain mail and scouring the forest, I wasn’t particularly at my finest. In fact, compared to Magnus in his princely attire and freshly groomed appearance, I was rather barbaric.
Father Patrick looked between Emmeline and me, then cleared his throat. “Now that we have clarified who is marrying whom, shall I continue?”
I nodded.
“Your Royal Highness,” he said more gently, with a kind look at the princess. “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
She didn’t respond. In fact, her pretty lips were clamped tight.
I squeezed her arm, hoping to persuade her. Everything will be all right, I silently encouraged. I promise I shall be a good husband.
“Your Royal Highness,” Father Patrick said softly. “You must say, ‘I will.’”
