by Jody Hedlund
I wrapped an arm around her to shelter her, alert once more for any other danger that lurked near us. We’d missed falling into the lagoon only by inches. From what I could tell, Dante and Alaric were safe but now battling against a new set of vines attempting to trap them.
“Are you hurt?” I pulled back slightly, only to have her wrap her arms around my neck and cling to me. Though her chest heaved rapidly with the effort of her breathing, she managed to shake her head.
Her hair had come loose during her struggles and now lay in tangled strands down her back, spilling across my body and even onto my face. The dark silk was as long and wavy as I’d imagined it would be.
I rose to my feet with Emmeline in my arms, knowing I needed to set her down and aid my men. However, before I could force myself to release her, Dante jumped the distance while Alaric followed, wielding their weapons expertly to fend away any further entanglements.
Without waiting, Dante took the lead, and we set out at a fast pace. I didn’t breathe fully until we broke free of the bog and mounted our horses. Once we were on our way, all I could think about was how close Emmeline had come to death, and I realized my insides were quavering almost as much as she still was.
With the sun now high in the sky, I pushed hard, driving our mounts to a gallop. We’d lost precious time, time that would now put us within easy distance of the rebel search party, who would likely stop at nothing to steal the princess away from me. And while my men were exceptional warriors, I knew I couldn’t underestimate the strength of the queen’s people.
As we rode, Emmeline’s grip around my neck remained tight. But I didn’t mind. In fact, I rather liked the sensation that she needed me. When finally we reached the rest of our men at the site of the previous night’s camp and I started to dismount, she lifted her head from my shoulder. Although she’d stopped shaking, her eyes were wide and dark and full of fear.
“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
I nodded, wanting to admonish her never to try something so foolish again, but I suspected once she recovered, she’d continue attempting to escape. All the more reason to win her affection so that she would want to stay with me. But how could I make her like me enough to put aside her plans to leave?
The men I’d left behind were anxious to depart, our supplies packed and their horses at the ready. They informed me that while I’d been gone, Magnus had taken two guards and had set off for Delsworth.
I could only imagine what Magnus would tell the king, likely giving him the worst of the details and leading him to believe I’d lost Emmeline.
“Your Highness,” Dante said with a bow. “Shall I hold the princess while your wounds are tended?”
An open slash across his cheek told me he’d suffered injuries of his own, as had Alaric. And how many lashes had Emmeline sustained from the sundew whips? I pulled back and attempted to assess her. Her skirt and bodice were sliced open in several places, exposing red welts. Her wrists and the skin showing at her shirtsleeves revealed bruises. I suspected her ankles and legs were the same.
“We shall tend the princess’s wounds and be on our way,” I said.
“But, Your Highness—” Dante glanced pointedly at my lower legs.
Only then did the princess squirm and push away from me, giving me no choice but to set her on her feet. Tousled, almost wild, she was more beautiful than ever, making my breath stick in my chest.
I didn’t move as she knelt in front of me and examined my legs. My encounter with the waterlogged peat and the thorny brambles underneath had torn patches of my breeches away, along with layers of my skin so that places were open and oozing blood.
She tossed Dante a commanding look. “I need clean water, bandages, and salve—if any can be found among the provisions.”
Dante and Alaric scurried to do her bidding even as she turned her attention back to my breeches, fingering the gashes and the blood that had seeped into the linen. “You must sit down and let me doctor your wounds.”
“No. We shall take care of yours first.”
“Mine are nothing compared to yours.”
I waved dismissively and took a step back.
She grabbed my tunic and glared up at me. “Let me at least wash away the dirt.”
We’d lose more time. Perhaps that’s what she was counting on.
Her expression softened. “I promise I’ll hurry.” All traces of hostility were gone from her eyes. Instead, the brown was warm and beckoning and melted my reserve.
I hobbled over to the nearest boulder, lowered myself, and began rolling up my breeches. A moment later, she pushed my hands away and slid the linen up herself, careful not to brush against the gashes.
By the time she’d exposed the bottom half of my legs, Dante, Father Patrick, and another young soldier who was an expert at medical remedies convened with the necessary supplies. When the young soldier knelt next to Emmeline, she took charge, giving him no choice but to watch.
She worked swiftly, keeping her promise. And yet at the same time, her fingers were gentle, the contact of her hands against my legs making me forget about the sting of my injuries. As she finally rose and examined one of the slashes above my knee, I couldn’t take my eyes from her.
“Thank you,” I said.
“’Tis my fault,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have gone into the bog.”
She shouldn’t have run away at all. But I swallowed my retort and said nothing.
Her fingers moved from my knee to a spot just above it. And as she traced the ragged rip of my breeches there, her touch was like fire and ice, burning my skin and freezing me at the same time. I sucked in a breath.
At my intake, she met my gaze again. From the innocence of her expression, I guessed she wasn’t aware of the intimacy of her touch or how it could affect a man.
“I should treat your other wounds too,” she said, grazing another spot slightly higher.
I caught her hand and slipped my fingers into hers, preventing her from embarrassing both of us in front of my men. “We need to go.” Before she could pull away or protest, I brought her hand to my lips and laid a kiss just above her knuckles.
Thankfully, my men took that as their cue to busy themselves and give me a moment of privacy with Emmeline.
As I let my lips linger, her eyes widened again, as though seeking to understand the meaning behind such a kiss. I refused to look away, holding her gaze and silently communicating the desire she awoke within me.
During my time at court, I’d always had women following me and hanging on to my every word. I’d never learned to be charming or winsome, had never needed such skills. But now I wished I knew more.
When Emmeline’s lashes fell and a flush moved into her cheeks, a small measure of satisfaction pooled in my chest. Perhaps there was some hope I could woo her and that she wouldn’t resist me forever. I was tempted to kiss her again, this time on the thumping pulse at her wrist.
Even as I chastised myself not to do so, a shadow circled around our camp—the long wingspan and the strong body of a bird of prey. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I peered up to the gliding form of a harpy eagle. My men stopped to watch it too, recognizing it as the harpy eagle that belonged to the queen’s search party.
My muscles tensed, and I stood abruptly, putting an end to my attempt at winning Emmeline. How soon before the rebel party was upon us? Were they even now closing in?
Without further ado, I picked Emmeline up. “We must mount and be on our way immediately,” I called to the men as I strode to my warhorse.
“I can walk, you know.” Emmeline’s arms wound around my neck. “I don’t need you carrying me everywhere.”
“You have left me no choice but to keep you with me every second of every minute of every hour.”
“Every second?” She gave little resistance to my hold and even seemed to nestle further against me.
“I shall not let you out of my sight again.”
“You will tire of watching me
eventually.”
“I guarantee that will never happen.” I was surprised when my voice dipped low and even more surprised when the flush reappeared in her cheeks.
Again, warm satisfaction settled inside and spread.
When she was securely ensconced in the saddle in front of me, I slipped my arm around her waist and drew her back. She held herself stiffly for only a moment before giving way and reclining into me.
I fully realized the battle for her heart was still in the early stages. Even so, I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d won a small victory.
Chapter
9
Emmeline
After another day and night of riding hard with only small breaks from the saddle, my body hurt in more places than I’d thought possible—particularly where the sundew vines had wrapped around my limbs, turning my skin shades of purple and blue.
“Are you comfortable?” Rex’s voice rumbled close to my ear, making my stomach flip, as it seemed intent on doing whenever I was near him.
I’d just spent the past long hours riding with Dante so that Rex’s horse might have a break from the extra burden of my weight.
During our most recent stop when we’d reached the East Sea, Rex had switched me to his mount. I didn’t want to admit I’d been anticipating the changeover, but now that I shared the saddle with him, I couldn’t deny my attraction.
The feeling had nothing to do with how strong and handsome he was, I told myself. It was because I’d witnessed how good and considerate he was, not only to me but to everyone. Even when he was strict and disciplined and commanding, he never failed to put the needs of others above his own.
As we’d steadily drawn closer to the coast, we’d passed through one small village after another. The couple of times we’d stopped for provisions, I’d been impressed with Rex’s fairness and courtesy in his dealings with peasants and tradesmen alike. Perhaps I’d been expecting the brutish behavior my father had always attributed to King Ethelwulf. But Rex, while brusque and businesslike, hadn’t shown any cruelty or callousness.
Rex’s nose brushed against my temple even as his mouth hovered near my ear, so I could hear his breathing. The graze of his skin and the nearness of his mouth made me suddenly dizzy so that I closed my eyes and reclined my head against his shoulder.
“Is that a yes?” His voice was light, almost teasing.
“Perhaps.” I laid my arm across the one he kept around my middle, relishing the hard contours and strength emanating from him. After the hours spent together, I’d realized he was as strong of mind as he was of body. We’d talked of many things, and I’d grown to respect his intelligence in all areas of science, history, and geography.
“You will rest in ease soon,” he said, “for God willing, we shall reach Delsworth within the hour.”
“Within the hour?” I opened my eyes and strained to see the horizon ahead. “I thought it to be longer since we just stopped.”
“We stopped for only one reason.” His voice dropped. “I had a need to hold my wife.”
At the intimacy in his tone, my insides smoldered and my thoughts filled with the kiss he’d placed upon my knuckles yesterday, so warm, so tender. I knew I shouldn’t think about it, shouldn’t let myself react to him the way I was. I had to stay aloof and remember I was his prisoner.
Even so, the longer I was with him, the more I was growing to like him. After the daring rescue he’d made in the Cistern Bogs, how could I not appreciate his valor and kindness? He’d arrived when I’d lost hope, when the danger had been too much to battle on my own. He hadn’t hesitated to charge directly into the peril of the bog and the sundew. He’d put his own life at risk for mine. Not only that, but he’d suffered painful wounds that even now needed tending again.
I couldn’t keep from admiring him, but the more my admiration grew, the more I betrayed my parents and the sacrifices they’d made. They’d raised me to fight against King Ethelwulf and his son. If they could see me now, they’d be disappointed at how I’d let down my defenses and engaged Rex so easily.
Moreover, Father would have admonished me for another failed escape attempt. I’d had the chance at a complete getaway, but I’d done too many things wrong—like neglecting to cover my tracks, almost as if part of me had wanted Rex to come after me. Which couldn’t be true, could it?
Next time, I’d do better and make an escape that would impress even my father, one that also included regaining the ancient key and the labyrinth map. I’d berated myself dozens of times for giving Rex such easy access to the map that Father and I had drawn. While packing to leave for Norland, Father must have placed it inside one of my books for safekeeping, unbeknownst to me. If only he’d been able to warn me. If only I hadn’t so foolishly thought to bring my books.
Whatever the case, I resigned myself to remaining Rex’s captive for the present. Once I was in Delsworth and away from Rex’s constant supervision, perhaps when he trusted me better, I’d have an easier time regaining the key and map and then slipping away.
The coastal road had grown busier, and now that we were so close to the capital, I understood why. A soldier galloped ahead and called out to the people, warning them to move aside for the prince, so that by the time we passed, they were out of the way and bowing in deference.
I noticed again—as I had since we’d arrived in the first small town—that the people weren’t excited to see the prince. Most cowered in fear or watched us with blank expressions that I sensed masked discontentment and dislike. A few brave men and women dared to glare at the prince, refusing to bow. If Rex noticed, he paid them no heed.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of the details of the land and people. After living so isolated a life, my senses were alert to everything, from the heavy odors of fish drying on racks along the shore to the dampness in the sea breeze to the shrieking of the gulls.
While I was fascinated, I was also saddened by the conditions. Everywhere I looked, I could see the effects of King Ethelwulf’s years of selfish rule, as well as his refusal to provide relief during drought we’d had.
Rather than securing the people’s welfare, the king had rewarded his trusted advisors and loyal noblemen by taking land and titles away from others, increasing the wealth and power of his supporters substantially, and allowing his faithful followers to rule their domains as they saw fit so that disorder and lawlessness had become rampant.
The awareness confirmed everything my parents had taught me—that the people of Mercia deserved better. They deserved to have a leader who would make their well-being a priority.
Would my sister, Queen Adelaide Constance, do so? Would she truly love the people and land and be the compassionate sovereign they needed?
The ancient prophecy predicted a young ruler full of wisdom who would use the treasure to help drive the evil from the land and usher in a time of peace. My parents had taught me my older sister was that young ruler.
But, what if they’d been wrong? What if Rex was meant to fulfill the prophecy? He was, after all, the crown prince, having been groomed to reign after King Ethelwulf. He might be ruthless and even harsh at times. But at heart, he wasn’t evil.
“What are you thinking about?” Rex had started asking that question whenever we rode together. I’d been rather surprised at the ease with which we could talk and found time passed much quicker during our conversations. “You are thinking of Bede again.”
Although I missed my fox, what was worse was knowing he missed me and didn’t understand what had become of me. I had no doubt he’d worried, paced, and howled at my absence, causing my parents untold grief.
To ease my ache, I’d shared with Rex how I’d discovered Bede as a newborn in his fox den. His mother and the rest of the litter had died of starvation during the worst season of the drought. But I’d brought Bede home and fought to save him, laboring over him day and night until he’d gained strength.
Rex had asked about Bede’s name and why I’d chosen it, which h
ad then led to a lengthy discussion of history and renowned historians—particularly Saint Bede, who’d written the account of the Great Isle in the early days of its settlement. I’d been reading a copy of Bede’s narration at the time I’d found the fox pup, and the name had seemed fitting.
“Bede is never far from my mind,” I said. “But as we near Delsworth, I cannot keep from thinking about other matters.”
“Such as . . .”
“Why everyone must fight over the throne. Why can we not live in peace?”
Rex was quiet for a long moment. That was another thing I liked about him—he didn’t brush away my concerns or questions. Rather, he took his time in giving me serious answers.
At his silence, I glanced at his profile. I tried not to stare at him too often, but my attention seemed to have a will of its own and was drawn more and more to him, to his ruggedness, to the strength in every nuance, to the pride of his bearing.
Whenever he dropped his sights to me, I found myself inwardly flushing under the intensity of his penetrating eyes that seemed to see right inside me and know my thoughts. And this time was no different. As he shifted his attention to my face, I found myself captured and bound to him.
“I want to live at peace,” he replied. “More than anything. Which is why I searched so hard to find you.”
“You have only stirred up more conflict by taking me.” I had the sudden urge to graze my fingers along his jawline and test the scratchiness of his stubble.
His gaze wandered around my face, lingering over my features as though he enjoyed looking upon me the same way I did him. “We may yet have a skirmish, but I pray we have avoided outright war and needless deaths on both sides.”
“But your father has waged wars, and you are an elite guard, a warrior—”
“I have no wish for war.” His answer was fierce, unexpected, and gave me pause.
