Sage: Medieval Romance Beauties With Blades

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Slowly, her happiness faded. There was one thing left to do. She put her hand into her boot and removed the parchment pages. She spread them over the ground and began to decode the book.

  Marcus leaned against a tree trunk and watched her for a long time. Wife. He could imagine no one more fitting or beautiful. He finally pushed himself from the tree and arched his back. He wanted Sage to finish decoding the book, but he was anxious to be moving farther away from the village.

  He walked over to the four horses tied to the branches of the trees. His steed nickered as he approached, and he ran a hand along his nose. They had kept them saddled in case they needed to escape quickly. He walked around to the saddlebags.

  “I saw you at le Bezu.”

  Marcus turned to find Landyn standing behind him with his arms crossed. Marcus’s gaze moved over him. He still didn’t trust him. “I was there,” he admitted while reaching into the saddlebag to pull out a flask. “I trained there for a bit.” He uncorked the flask and drank deeply.

  “I saw you the same day Brother Nicolas was found dead.”

  Marcus lowered the flask from his lips and wiped a sleeve across his mouth. “Are you accusing me?”

  “It is suspicious, don’t you think?”

  “Aren’t you a Templar knight?” Marcus glanced at Raven and back to Landyn. Templar knights took vows of chastity.

  Landyn straightened, his eyes narrowing. “I was.”

  “I’ve finished!” Sage cried.

  Marcus placed the cork back on the flask and returned it to the saddlebag. He brushed by Landyn and hurried across the leaf-hewn ground to Sage’s side. Raven stood over her, gazing down at the parchment pages as they shone in the moonlight.

  He dropped to his knees at Sage’s side, studying the words on the parchment. “Where do the directions lead?” he asked breathlessly.

  Sage shook her head, rubbing a hand over her chin in confusion. “I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t it say in the book?” Marcus asked.

  “No. It doesn’t say anything except the directions. It doesn’t even say where to start, and there is no specific end.”

  Marcus stared. “There’s nowhere to start?”

  “What kind of directions are those?” Raven asked.

  “The kind that want to stay hidden,” Landyn observed. “We were not meant to know what the directions were for.”

  Sage crossed her arms. “I don’t believe that. There must be more. Something we’re missing.”

  Perplexed silence spread over them. Crickets chirped in the distance. A twig snapped somewhere behind them.

  Marcus glanced over his shoulder, scanning the dark shadows. He stood, taking hold of Sage’s arm and drawing her to her feet. “We can think about this later. We should leave here.”

  “Maybe we should go back to le Bezu,” Sage suggested, bending to gather up the parchment pages. “We have to find Willow.”

  “We should go to Sybil’s farm. We were to meet there if we ever got separated,” Raven suggested.

  Sage agreed with a nod as she straightened the parchment and folded it, tucking it into her boot. She picked up the quill and ink and looked at her sister, cocking her head. “How did you get here? How did you find me?”

  Raven exchanged a glance with Landyn. “It’s a long story.”

  Read Raven’s Story

  Free Sneak Preview of Raven - Book 2 in Beauties with Blades™

  Prologue

  England

  1292

  The sound of birds chirping floated in through the window of the one-room cottage. Even though sunlight streamed through the open shutters, the room was cold. The hearth against the far wall was out, the fire long since extinguished. The brightness of the sun and the happy song of the birds was strangely out of place.

  Near the wall opposite the hearth, Raven Hawke, a thin girl of eight summers, stood over the straw mattress tucked into the corner of their home, staring at her mother. Her mother’s eyes were closed, her brown hair framed her head, her hands were limp at her side. She had been still for a long time now.

  Earlier, Willow, the youngest sister, had called out to their mother, gently shaking her. But their mother did not move.

  As the oldest, Raven was expected to be in charge. To know what to do. Yet, she couldn’t move. She silently begged her mother to move, to breathe, but she had watched her mother for a long time, watched her chest for the rise and fall of her breathing. There was no movement. Her mother was motionless. Still, Raven was hopeful, hopeful her mother would sit up and smile and hug them.

  Sage, the middle sister, sat in a rickety chair behind Raven near the small wooden table in the center of the room. Her long brown hair fell in a disarray about her shoulders. She flicked at a small indent in the wood of the table. Her legs were crossed beneath her.

  Willow knelt on the floor beside her mother’s mattress. Her long blonde hair fell forward over her mother's half open hand. She reached out and pulled a ragged blanket over her mother up to her chin. She placed a tiny hand on her mother’s cheek before turning her head to lock a watery gaze with Raven. "She's cold."

  "She's dead,” Sage proclaimed.

  Raven spun, casting a harsh glare at Sage and reprimanded, "Sage!"

  Sage uncrossed her legs and pushed herself from her seat. Her brown hair was unkempt, hanging around her shoulders like an old cloak. Her eyes were aged and haunted past her six summers. "It's true! Mother's gone," she insisted.

  Willow began to sob quietly, her small body shaking.

  Raven glanced at her youngest sister before taking a step toward Sage with her fists clenched. Sage had always been like that. Stating facts. This wasn't the time. They had to figure out what to do. "Look what you've done now!" She flicked a hand at Willow.

  "She should know the truth," Sage said with a frown.

  "Not like that. You don't even care that mother is gone!" Raven accused.

  Sage stuck her tongue out at Raven.

  Raven wanted to pull her hair and hit her arm, but she felt a tugging at her skirt and looked down.

  Willow stared up at her with large wet blue eyes. "What will we do without Mother?"

  Raven looked at Sage, hoping she would have the answer.

  Sage stared at her with expectant eyes.

  Raven was supposed to have all the answers. She was supposed to know what to do. She cast a look at their mother, at her gray skin, at her peaceful sleeping face. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and a frown began to form on her brow. What were they supposed to do now? How could Mother do this? How could she leave them alone? What were they going to do?

  This time, Raven didn't have any answers.

  Suddenly, the door flew open sending a gust of air into the room.

  Willow leapt to her feet and ran to Raven, hiding behind her. Sage took a step back from the door, moving to her sister’s side.

  Raven lifted her chin to glare at the strange man standing in the doorway.

  Shadowed by sunlight shining behind him, the tall man’s severe gaze moved from sister to sister. His dark shoulder-length hair blew forward, pushed by a rush of wind curling into the room. His jaw was square and firm, his eyes were hard. Leather armor fit snuggly over his torso and a sword was strapped to his waist. He had to duck to enter the cottage.

  Raven instinctively placed a protective arm around Willow, drawing the man’s gaze. Her heart beat madly out of fear.

  His stare shifted to their mother. His wrinkled brow softened, and the sternness in his face diminished. He took three steps across the room, past the girls until he was at her side.

  Raven gathered Willow to her and moved out of his way.

  He knelt at the woman's side and stared for a long moment. He gently eased a strand of brown hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. He touched her hand, squeezing it, before lifting the blanket over her face.

  He stood, inhaled deeply and turned to them.

  Raven hugged Willow against her
. She didn’t know this man. She didn’t know what he wanted or what he would do.

  "Gather your belongings," the man commanded in a deep voice. "Bring only what you can carry."

  Startled, Raven could only stare at him. She clutched Willow tightly. It wasn't the man’s appearance that sent shivers racing down her spine. It was his voice. Serious, forceful.

  It was familiar.

  "Who are you?" Willow asked in a timid voice.

  He approached, his boots thundering on the wooden floor.

  Raven retreated a step, pulling Willow behind her.

  Sage peered around Raven’s shoulder.

  Raven lifted her chin higher. She would not let him hurt her sisters.

  The man stopped before her, and she met his stare.

  Dark eyes swept her, assessing. "I'm your father."

  Read Raven: Book 2 in Beauties with Blades

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