by Jody Hedlund
Upon reaching me, he knelt, as did his companion. I dipped my head in acknowledgment of their respect. I could no longer conceal my identity as a Prince of Scania. From the moment I’d revealed myself at the ball, apparently the word had spread even to Curly and the other men from the mine, who’d bowed before me when I’d met with them to make our plans.
Of the men, only Curly had spoken to me in the same manner he always had, as if my royalty was of no consequence. I realized then that I would not miss the kingship, that I could grow accustomed to remaining a simple prince. Mikkel would make a worthy king in my stead. I need not worry about the country’s welfare under his rule.
My experience in the mines had stripped away everything and shown me just how conceited I truly was. My whole life, I’d placed too much pride in myself and my connections with important nobility and the Lagting. I’d striven to please people and gain their acceptance for my own betterment rather than for what I could do for them.
And now, I knew that even if being the slave of all was difficult, serving others brought more contentment than being served. Was it possible that in sacrificing, one gained more than one gave? That only in laying down one’s life could one truly learn to live?
My attention strayed to Gabriella, still at Curly’s side. Her life was proof of that. She gave of herself day after day in countless ways to others, and she never ran out of herself. In fact, she seemed to have a boundless supply of kindness that had somehow spilled over to Grendel.
Lord Kennard rose, and though a smile graced his face, his eyes were much too solemn. “I suggest that you address the people, Your Highness. If the queen hears their praise, she may delay your arrest.”
“Arrest?” My gaze darted to the throne, but the queen was no longer in her spot. “On what charges?”
Even as the question left my lips, I knew the answer. Word of the slave revolt had reached her. Maybe she’d even known of it before I made my way into the pit to fight Grendel but hadn’t expected me to live. Now that I had, she planned to use the revolt against me.
“She is telling her loyal guards you must be arrested because you set the worst criminals in the kingdom free from slavery.” Lord Kennard lowered his voice to a whisper. “Her guards are even now waiting in the stairwell for you to pass through so they might secretly take you away.”
I glanced through the open gate. A torch in the wall glowed brightly, revealing the tunnel that led to the stairwell. “If I rally the people to my side, then you think she will have no choice but to let me leave this place as a free man?”
“We can only pray so. At least for the time being, until she has time to sway their opinion against you.” He lowered his voice. “If she lays hold of you, Your Highness, I fear you will never leave Warwick alive.”
I feared the same. Not only for myself but also for Gabriella. The queen would find a way to silence us both.
“After you speak to the people and while everyone is celebrating, you must sneak away across the lake and find your way out of Warwick secretly.”
I nodded my assent. Perhaps I would suggest feasting and celebrating all night long right here in the field. And when the rejoicing was at its height, I could slip away unnoticed with Gabriella.
But with so dangerous a madman still alive, how could I run away? “I must ensure Grendel’s safe removal from this country. I cannot rest until I know he’s returned to my homeland.”
“As you requested, the arrangements for his transport are well under way, Your Highness. And I shall accompany the beast in your stead.” The seriousness of Lord Kennard’s expression told me he would indeed guard the berserker well and do everything within his power to rid Warwick of the menace. “I shall immediately direct a missive to King Christian and call upon him for assistance. He will surely send his strongest warriors to aid in the conveyance of the monster.”
Yes, my father would help. But would his men be able to arrive before the queen could interfere? “You will need to be well armed.”
Lord Kennard nodded to his companion, who stood a respectful distance away. “I have even now enlisted the aid of several noblemen and their knights.”
Despite his assurances, I hesitated. Something inside me protested running and hiding from the queen.
“Please, Your Highness. You have made a mortal enemy of the queen, and she will seek retribution for your interference here in Warwick.”
She’d likely hunt down all the men who’d fought with me tonight. What would become of them if I left them behind and ran away to Scania? And was it even possible for me to escape to my homeland? The queen would most likely catch me before I had the chance to secure passage off the Great Isle.
At the chanting of her name, Gabriella waved up at the people, earning more cheering and applause. Attired in her elegant emerald gown, one worthy of a princess, she was most certainly the fairest maiden, especially now, after facing the madman.
And she was still my betrothed.
Though the betrothal ceremony had been a last and desperate effort to protect her, I didn’t take my vows lightly. I’d given my word to marry her, and I would—no matter the long-term consequences and estrangement I brought upon myself from my father and the Lagting.
The truth was, I didn’t just have myself to think about in the coming dangerous days. I had her now too. I had to do whatever would keep her the safest, and the best option at this point was to find a place where we could hide. Perhaps we could escape to Mercia with the other slaves.
“Thank you for the warning regarding the queen’s motives, Lord Kennard. You took a great risk in delivering the news to me. If you should ever find yourself in trouble, you will always be welcome in Scania.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Highness. Warwick is my home, and even when the country is at its worst, I trust that the Sovereign Lord has put me here to carry out his work, whatever that might be.”
I nodded. Then before the queen grew impatient and decided to send her soldiers out of the stairwell after me, I strode forward toward Gabriella. As I took my place next to her, I reached for her hand.
She glanced at me in surprise.
“The queen’s knights are waiting in the stairwell to capture us,” I said, as I smiled up at the cliffs and raised my arm with Gabriella’s in a sign of solidarity and victory. “We must delay her efforts by garnering the support of the people.”
The crowd cheered louder.
As Gabriella’s lips rose, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her fingers clasped mine, and I could feel her tremble. I prayed that this time, I could find a way to free her from the queen’s grasp once and for all.
Several enormous bonfires lit the grassy area now filled with hundreds of people who were feasting, dancing, and celebrating Grendel’s capture. After speaking again to Lord Kennard and finalizing more plans, the nobleman had taken Grendel in his cage away by boat. I’d reluctantly watched them disappear into the night.
For now, my new mission was to escape with Gabriella. During the past hour of revelry, I’d made my intentions known to Ty and Curly along with my instructions. They’d dispersed into the crowds, the same way I hoped to do.
Though I stayed close to Gabriella and kept her in my line of vision as we mingled, I tried to remain calm in case the queen or her spies were watching. I didn’t want them discovering how nervous I was and suspect I was plotting a getaway.
As the hour crept closer to dawn, we had to make our move. I caught Gabriella’s gaze and nodded. When the fiddles struck up the melody of the next dance, she approached one of the slaves from the mine. They began to twirl in the steps of a folk dance, and she allowed the momentum to take her near the shore where Ty and Curly were already waiting.
As the couple stepped into the shadows, the slave rotated farther into the darkness with Gabriella, and a moment later reappeared with a peasant woman. Though the new woman in her peasant garments didn’t look anything like Gabriella, hopefully no one would notice right away.
I waited several moments before I casually edged toward the opposite side, since it was too risky for me to depart in the same vicinity as Gabriella. I slipped into the dark shadows near the wall. After glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed my exit, I waded into the water. Already having taken off the queen’s armor, I moved swiftly, with naught but my weapons to weigh me down.
Though I’d known the lake was fed by mountain streams, the water was colder than I’d expected. Nevertheless, I was accustomed to the frigid temperature of the fjords in Scania and had learned to swim in them from the time I could walk. Thus, I plunged deeper and dove below the surface.
When I emerged, I was far enough from the shore that no one would be able to spot me. Using the bonfires as my guide, I swam hard, not knowing how much time we had before the queen’s men noticed we were gone and came looking for us.
“There,” came Curly’s loud whisper. “He’s there.”
I propelled myself toward the faint outline of the bobbing boat. Within minutes, Curly and Ty pulled me over the side. Before I had the chance to shake the water from my body, they were already rowing swiftly into deeper water.
In the darkness, I groped against the hull to find another set of oars and bumped into Gabriella instead.
“Here,” she whispered, wrapping something over my shoulders and around my torso. “It’s not nearly large enough for you, but it’ll do for now.”
“Thank you,” I said, my teeth chattering and my body numb from cold.
I dragged the cloak about me, not sure whose it was or where it had come from but grateful nonetheless for Gabriella’s thoughtfulness. I sensed her nearby and wanted to grab her into an embrace and reassure myself that she was now safe.
But to do so would be premature. We had a difficult journey ahead, especially once the queen sent out her best knights to track us.
I found another set of oars and dipped them in, adding my strength and speed to Curly’s and Ty’s. Within minutes, the laughter and singing and music faded until the only sound was the rhythmic slap of our rowing.
Chapter
20
Gabriella
Weariness had become my constant companion. I simply clung to the pommel and prayed I wouldn’t fall off my mount.
Curly led the way, urging us onward, ever higher and faster. From the tense glances he tossed over his shoulder to the darkening forest behind us, I suspected the queen’s men were getting closer as the evening gave way to dusk. They’d been gaining ground all day, although I didn’t know how Curly could tell.
Our trip by boat across Wraith Lake had been short. When we reached the shore, the men chopped up the boat and pushed it out into the water where it sank, destroying evidence we’d been there. Then we hiked for several leagues before we came upon the horses laden with supplies and food Lord Kennard had arranged for us. The walking had wasted precious time according to Curly. And ever since then, we’d been attempting to outdistance our pursuers.
If only the guards hadn’t noticed our disappearance from the festivities until morning . . . As it was, apparently someone had discovered our absence sooner rather than later, and the chase began.
Now Curly guided us deep into the foothills on trails only visible to his trained eye and into places I’d never known existed in Warwick—wild land with majestic waterfalls and rushing rivers, along with smaller cascading waterfalls and tributaries. If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have appreciated the grandeur more thoroughly, but I could only think of staying awake and in my saddle.
I’d overheard the men saying that we would stick to the desolate trails as we worked our way north into Inglewood Forest with the hope of eventually meeting up with the other runaway slaves Molly was leading into hiding. The trip would take several more days of hard riding and would tax our mounts to the limit, especially with having to traverse up and down the hills.
What the men left unsaid was that we wouldn’t make half that distance if we didn’t somehow shake Queen Margery’s knights from our trail. I managed a look behind me at Vilmar. His body was rigid with determination, and his face tense with frustration that we weren’t making more progress.
Though he didn’t say so, he was exhausted. His features contained a haggardness that hadn’t been there previously. How long had it been since he’d slept? Since before leading the slave revolt?
The men had shared with me more details regarding their getaway from the Gemstone Mountains—how they’d outwitted the guards, freed all the slaves, and fled with their lives intact. I’d been awed by their bravery. Curly gave Vilmar and Ty all the credit, indicating that if not for their swift ability to silence the tower guards, the escape would have been more dangerous. Certainly many would have died.
Although Vilmar had answered my questions about his Testing and his country’s custom in choosing their next king, he’d been strangely quiet all day. I suspected he was preoccupied with worry over the transfer of Grendel back to Scania. He’d spoken tersely with Ty about it on several occasions. Had he given up his plans to escort Grendel, so he’d be free to act as my bodyguard?
The farther we rode, the guiltier I felt for dragging Vilmar so deeply into Warwick’s problems. They weren’t his to worry about, and yet here he was accompanying me and making sure I was safe. I also blamed myself for his failure to finish his Testing, even though he insisted he willingly chose to end his part of the competition to become king.
Did he feel bound to me because of our betrothal?
His words from last night during the dance came back to me: “I want no one else but you.” He’d spoken them with such sincerity, and yet I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on the affection. We’d been on the precipice of death. And we’d spoken and acted as if we had no tomorrow.
Because Vilmar was a man of honor, he would never go against his word or promise. Nonetheless, I didn’t want him staying with me out of obligation to a vow he made because he hoped to save me. Instead, I wanted to give him back his freedom so he could restore himself into the good graces of his people and yet have a chance at being king. Once they heard of his daring deeds, they’d surely approve.
I’d grown more convinced with each passing hour that I must cut him free as soon as I had the chance to speak privately with him. I would reassure him that Curly could lead me to Inglewood Forest. And there I would establish a new life with the friends I’d made in the mines.
The truth was, I’d never be able to return to my home in Rockland. I would never be secure as long as the queen lived. And I couldn’t ask Vilmar to join me in that kind of existence, no matter how much I’d grown to care about him.
Curly led us down a mossy bank toward another river, the beautiful waterfall cascading from the rocky ledge upriver. When he reached the middle of the river, he reined in his horse and pointed toward the waterfall. “It’s time to be hiding. We’ll take cover there until the queen’s men give up the search.”
“Where?” I saw nothing but the waterfall and the wet granite it flowed over.
“Do ye trust me?” He offered me the first smile all day.
“Of course I do.”
The river was fast moving and frigid. As I guided my horse upriver, the water surged against us, soaking into my fragile slippers as well as into the hem of my gown. The closer we drew, the stronger the current, until I feared it might take us back down to where we’d begun.
Curly halted a few feet from the spray. It rained against us, and if I’d had any hope of staying dry, I lost it.
“We need to go through,” he called to us above the roar of the water. He nudged his horse directly into the pouring stream. He ducked his head and hunched his back, letting the water pound against him. A moment later he was gone. Ty did the same, disappearing into the mist.
Swallowing my trepidation, I urged my steed forward. The creature balked, tossing his head and snorting his fear. But at the slap of Vilmar’s riding whip to his haunches, he lurched into the water flow. For several seconds t
he water drenched me, and I felt as though I were drowning under a pummeling of ice.
But as I passed through to the other side, I blinked the water out of my eyes and found that my horse was standing in a calm, shallow pool. Straight ahead, Curly and Ty had led their mounts out of the water into a dark cavern. They’d dismounted and Curly was already in the process of guiding his horse farther away from the waterfall. Next to me, Vilmar spluttered, wiping his eyes and combing wet strands of hair off his face.
“We can tie up the horses here,” Curly said. “And then we’ll hike back in where we can start a fire and dry out.”
“Won’t the queen’s guards see the light from our fire?” Vilmar scanned our surroundings with his keen gaze, likely not missing a single detail.
“We have a short while before darkness. After that, aye, we’ll need to be extinguishing the flames for the night.”
While Ty and Vilmar tended our horses and speared for fish in the pool, Curly disappeared through the waterfall to gather wood, staying in the water along the banks so the hunting dogs wouldn’t be able to track our scent. A short while later, he plunged back through the waterfall, keeping the majority of wood dry by shielding it with an oiled blanket from amongst our supplies.
He made quick work of starting a small fire, but even when the heat began to fill the cavern, I couldn’t stop shaking. As Vilmar approached with several fish on the tip of his sword, his brows furrowed as he took me in. “You’re freezing.”
“I shall warm soon enough.” I tried to keep my voice cheerful, but the cold made it wobbly.
Vilmar handed his sword to Ty who followed behind him, his spear stacked with fish too. “If you strip to your chemise,” Vilmar lifted his chain mail over his head, “your garments will dry quicker.”
Mortified at his suggestion, I retreated a step. “I cannot—”
“We shall turn our backs and give you privacy.” He continued to shed his own garments, dropping his weapons belt and then raising his tunic.