by Jody Hedlund
Bede yipped.
“Come now.” I began to jog toward the cabin. “I promise I’ll give you a taste of honey cake.”
I didn’t have to wait long for Bede. He was soon racing along beside me. As we neared the clearing, however, he reached over, snagged my tunic, and jostled against me, giving me no choice but to stop.
I yanked my garment to wrest it free and was about to rebuke my fox when the skin at the back of my neck prickled. I ceased my struggle and dropped to the ground on my stomach. Bede flattened too, stared straight ahead, and growled.
Something wasn’t right. I didn’t know what. But maybe that’s why Bede had been acting strangely.
For long seconds, I listened for unusual sounds and scoured the surrounding area for signs of trespassing. Then I crept closer to the edge of the clearing until I could peek through the foliage.
The expanse was silent and deserted. At first appearance, everything was as it ought to be. But when I studied the area again and paid attention to detail, I realized the mule was still tied to the tree where Father had left it. By now, Father would have fed and watered the tired creature, as well as brushed it down, especially since he’d soon load it with the belongings we planned to take with us.
And the chickens were still roaming around. Father should have killed and dressed the fowl to use during our journey. He certainly wouldn’t leave them behind.
Next to me, Bede growled again, louder this time, and bared his incisors. His dark eyes were focused on the cabin.
Something had occurred while I’d been gone, but what? Had the visitor whose footprints I’d discovered earlier happened upon the cottage? Was he inside with Father and Mother?
Nothing about our home seemed amiss. Except that perhaps it was too quiet. Did I dare approach? If I could get closer, I’d be able to look for footprints and any signs that might give me more information. On the other hand, what if the visitor was a foe?
I rose to my hands and knees, uncertainty gnawing at my insides. “What should I do, Bede?”
Bede didn’t take his eyes from the cabin, as though he sensed danger.
Scenes from my nightmares flashed through my mind, and I was tempted to retreat the way I’d come and return to my hiding spot high in the tree. But at the same time, loyalty to my parents demanded I hasten to their aid if they were in trouble.
Trying to gather my courage and still my trembling, I stood. For several pounding heartbeats, my throat was too constricted to speak. Finally, I managed a short whistle, one I used to communicate with Father when hunting.
Bede didn’t move except to twitch his ears.
After long moments of silence, I whistled again, this time hopefully loud enough he would hear me if he was still in the cottage.
“Go, Emmy!” came Father’s voice from inside. “Run. Hide!” He was abruptly cut off as though he’d been hit, and Mother’s scream was muffled.
The urgency of Father’s tone was all the warning I needed to begin racing away.
The door of the cottage banged open. “Come out and show yourself,” a commanding voice carried across the yard. “Or you will force me to hurt your parents.”
I stopped. Hurt Mother and Father?
“No, Emmy!” Father shouted louder. “We’ll be fine. Just go!”
I retraced my steps to the edge of the clearing and peeked through the brush. The door of the cottage was open. Several soldiers stood outside with Father between them. His hands were bound behind him, and his feet tied with ropes so he could hardly walk. His weapons were gone, and he was disheveled, a bruise already discoloring the skin around one eye.
“Get away, Emmy!” Father called. “And don’t look back!”
One of the guards backhanded Father in the mouth, but he continued to shout instructions at me to run, hide, leave. Quickly, another of the guards twisted a gag that cut through Father’s mouth and silenced him—or at least made his words indistinguishable.
Several more soldiers came out of the cottage holding Mother between them. Her hands were bound, but thankfully her feet were free, and her captors appeared to be treating her with more care.
I counted eight men wearing cloaks of gray and brown. One soldier stood apart from the others and had cast off his outer garment, revealing the black chain mail that haunted my dreams—the chain mail belonging to the elite guards of King Ethelwulf.
Again my chest burned with the need to run and hide. I wouldn’t be a coward for doing it. Running was what Father had pleaded with me to do. He wanted me to get far away and stay out of the clutches of the king. I couldn’t let him down. Not after the sacrifices he’d made to keep me safe all these years.
The knight wearing the chain mail took several steps from the cottage, his gaze roving over the brush until his sights locked upon me. An ordinary man wouldn’t have been able to spot me so quickly amidst the foliage, especially since I, like his companions, wore garments that blended well with the woodland.
But of course, this was no ordinary group of soldiers. These men had been drilled like Father to do the near impossible. Faced with so fierce a foe, I ought to be on my way now. I’d need every inch of a head start I could gain. Even then, I’d be sorely outnumbered.
My advantage was that I knew the woods better than anyone except Father. My hiding places would prove challenging to even the best of trackers. With all the skills Father had made sure I learned, I’d have a very good chance of outmaneuvering these soldiers and making my way to safety.
And yet, how could I leave Father and Mother behind to suffer at their hands?
The guard at the forefront seemed to size me up, though I was mostly hidden. I took him in, too, noting his fair hair braided in the three warrior strands over his scalp and tied together at the base of his neck. His face was rugged, perhaps even handsome, behind the layer of unshaven scruff. His shoulders were broad and his arms thick with muscles that bulged against his chain mail. From the confident way he held himself, I had no doubt he was the commander of this group if not of the king’s entire guard.
When his gaze locked with mine, I drew in a sharp breath. Though he was too distant for me to distinguish the color of his eyes, I had no trouble seeing their fierce intensity. I dropped into a crouch, hiding in the thickness of the brush—but not before witnessing him motion to several of the men to surround me. In my mind, I could picture the paths they would take in the woods, drawing closer until I was trapped. If I wanted to get away, I had to do so now.
“I can see you have no wish for any more trouble to befall your parents,” he called out. “If you hand yourself over to me, I shall let them go, unharmed.”
He was stalling me, giving his men time to circle around me.
“Do not give in, Emmeline.” Mother’s voice rose distinctly into the evening, unwavering and strong. “You know what you need to do.”
I cringed, waiting for a backhand to her mouth. When the captain didn’t silence her the way he had my father, I whispered a prayer of gratefulness. Perhaps the commander was a decent man toward women. Or perhaps he was allowing my mother to speak and so further halt my escape.
At a nudge from Bede’s nose, I made my decision. I sprang away and leaped over windfall, intent on making my getaway before the soldiers closed in.
“String them both up!” the captain shouted so I would hear, obviously seeing my attempt at escape. “And heat an iron.”
I faltered and stumbled to a halt. A glance over my shoulder told me the captain wasn’t issuing an idle threat. The soldiers were shoving my parents toward the large maple where Father had tied the mule. The captain tossed a rope over a high branch so that it hung on either side.
“No,” I whispered, my blood turning cold.
Bede bumped against me, urging me to run. But as my father reached the tree, one of the guards forced his bound hands upward above his head while another began to secure him to the dangling rope.
Although I’d never witnessed torture or anything remotely cruel, I�
�d read enough in my history texts to know the damage that could be wrought on the human body. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to turn my back upon my parents and allow them to go through that anguish. Not for my sake and not for any reason.
I couldn’t see the soldiers advancing, but I sensed their presence to both my right and left. I spun and stared into the heart of Inglewood Forest, knowing that’s where I needed to go.
Yet, at a cry from my mother, I couldn’t make my feet run as she’d instructed. Instead, hot tears stung my eyes. My parents might have been able to leave a loved one behind to face torture, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t as strong as they were. I never had been.
My shoulders slumped. For a moment, the weight of my failure pressed heavily upon me. I hadn’t become the courageous woman they’d worked hard to develop.
At the slight crack of a step to my left, I dodged away and broke through the brush into the clearing. One of the guards was already pulling the rope attached to my father, dragging him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground. His arms stretched tightly above him, the twine digging into his wrists. Though he kept all emotion from his face, the tightening of his torso told me of the pain he was already experiencing.
A soldier had strung another rope and was beginning to tie my mother’s hands above her head. At the sight of me racing across the grassy yard, her eyes widened, revealing panic. “Emmeline! Please! Go!”
I picked up my pace, my attention homing in on the rope holding my father. I’d already unsheathed the small knife Father had insisted I always carry with me. While I’d long past vowed I wouldn’t use it for harm, I’d found it was useful from time to time for cutting roots or shaving bark or even some whittling.
Now I was glad more than ever Father had made me wear it. I aimed at the rope and threw it. In one swift slice, it severed the twine, and Father dropped to the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, his eyes upon my knife, which had embedded into the trunk.
Before he could figure out a way to retrieve the weapon, however, the daunting captain of the guard grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerked his head back, and laid a sharp blade against his neck. It pierced Father’s skin, quickly drawing blood.
“No!” I halted and held out a hand, not realizing it was trembling until too late. “Don’t hurt him!”
The commander didn’t budge. Only his gaze flicked behind me. His men had followed me out of the woods and now stood a short distance around me, and he’d communicated something to them. Had he told them to draw closer and grab me?
The captain turned his attention back to me, and for an endless moment, he took me in from my boy’s cap down to my boots. His eyes were a vivid blue, the same as the clear evening sky overhead. But they were unreadable, like my father’s. If he was curious, surprised, or even appalled to find me attired as a boy, I couldn’t tell.
I suppose it didn’t matter to him what I looked like. His assignment was merely to bring me to the king in Delsworth. If Father was correct, the king would marry me off to his son, the crown prince, with the hope that such a union would undermine the rebellion.
Perhaps if I cooperated for the time being, I’d not only save my parents, but I’d find a way to free myself from the clutches of these soldiers, hopefully before we were out of Inglewood Forest.
The commander watched my expression carefully.
“Release them,” I said. “If you bring them no more harm, I shall accompany you without further resistance.”
Father said something behind his gag. Of course, I couldn’t make out his words, but the message within his eyes was loud enough. He didn’t want me to give in.
“Please try to understand,” I said to him. “I had to come back. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, knowing I allowed you to suffer.”
Father tried to speak again, his eyes pleading with me. Could I somehow make him realize this was the best way to save us all for now? That soon enough I’d find a way back to him?
“Bede.” My faithful companion was right by my side, his low snarl warning the soldiers to keep their distance. I tangled my fingers in his fur. “You and Mother will keep Bede.”
At my unthinkable offer, Mother’s gaze snapped to mine. I’d raised the fox since finding him as a wee motherless pup. We’d never been apart. Ever. Bede went with me everywhere. If I willingly left my dearest and most beloved friend, surely they could comprehend my unspoken message—that I’d never leave him behind if I didn’t plan on returning.
Father gave me the barest of nods, which told me he finally understood and that he trusted me to find a way to escape.
“Release them,” I said again to the commander. “You vowed you would let them go unharmed if I handed myself over to you.”
“And are you handing yourself over, Princess?” he replied in a strangely disquieting tone. “Or are you planning to run once I free them?”
I lifted my chin, hoping he couldn’t see how close he’d come to the truth. “Of course I’m handing myself over. I could have easily escaped your men if I’d so chosen.”
He watched me a moment longer, and I forced myself not to squirm under his scrutiny. He was rather bold for a captain of the guard.
“Prove your cooperation.” He shifted the blade lower on my father’s neck, nicking the skin and drawing more blood. “Go change into clothing suitable for a princess and pack any items you wish to take with you. For every misstep you make, I shall press my knife deeper.”
His voice was cold and held no room for bargaining. Everything about this man, from his arrogant bearing to his hard demeanor, testified of his leadership and his ability to command unquestioning obedience.
Though he frightened me, and I feared he’d slit my father’s throat regardless of what I did or didn’t do, I had to remember I was a princess, of royal blood. My status was far superior to his. He wouldn’t dare harm me. Not as long as the king needed me. Not even if I tried to flee a hundred times.
The trick was figuring out a way to keep this guard from hurting my parents.
Chapter
4
Rex
When Emmeline emerged from the cottage a short while later, I appraised her again. In spite of an ugly skirt that appeared as though it had been laundered in a cesspit, she was still stunning.
Without the boy’s cap, I could see that her hair was as dark as a raven, the color matching her long eyelashes. While her hair was still bundled in a messy knot, a few strands had come loose and fluttered about her face. I suspected her tresses were long and thick and wavy and would add to her beauty—if it were possible for her to be more beautiful.
The simple truth was that I’d never met a young woman even half as lovely as Emmeline, and I’d certainly met many noblewomen over the past year. From the moment I’d spotted her through the brush, I’d known her delicate, exquisite features belonged to the princess. It was almost laughable that she’d believed a boy’s cap and breeches could fool anyone.
I’d been impressed by her speed when she’d come out of the woods to save Lance. I’d even been slightly impressed by her ability to throw her knife with such accuracy. But I hadn’t been surprised. Lance had trained her to protect herself just as any good elite guard would have done who’d been guarding the princess.
Her keen eyes assessed first Lance and then Felicia. Though I hadn’t wanted to gag Felicia, I’d had to do so to prevent her from further communicating with the princess and attempting to make plans. Then my men had bound them each to different trees. They’d used many ropes and tied complicated knots that would be difficult to undo. But I suspected Lance would be able to free himself within a day. A day was a far enough lead that we’d be well on our way back to Delsworth with the princess, and he’d never be able to catch up.
The rich dark brown of Emmeline’s eyes was expressive—probably more so than she realized, giving away her feelings quite easily. And as she paused to set down her full sack and take in the state of her guardians’ well-being, her relief
was palpable. She’d clearly been worried I’d slit open Lance’s throat during her absence. No doubt she considered me a brute.
I suppose I couldn’t blame her. After all, I’d used Lance and Felicia to bring her into compliance. Once we were away from Inglewood Forest, and especially once we were back at the royal residence, I’d work at changing her opinion of me and find a way to win her affection. Eventually, she’d even be grateful to me for sparing Lance and Felicia when many others in my position would have killed them on the spot.
Yes, I’d have a challenge in wooing her. But I always relished challenges, and this would be one I’d especially enjoy. For now, however, I had to keep up a show of strength and power, even if she temporarily despised me for it.
Dante reached for the princess’s sack only to have the fox snap at him. She bent and gently touched the creature’s head, and he immediately calmed.
“Let Dante search your bag,” I ordered.
She lifted her chin. “I have no other weapons besides the knife, which it appears you now have.”
I’d sheathed it with mine, not sure if I’d eventually return it to her or not. Would we ever come to the point of being able to trust each other? I prayed so but knew it would take time and effort.
Dante took hold of the sack again, and this time the fox allowed it. When he flipped it over and began dumping the contents, she yanked the sack away from him, her eyes flashing and her body bristling. “How dare you?”
Books littered the ground, most of them worn and falling apart. Pages of parchment came loose from several and fluttered in the breeze. She dropped to her knees and gathered the pages, tossing a glare at Dante. “Have you no care? These are worth more than gold.”
“We cannot take the books.” I approached her. “Only clothing and personal necessities.”
“My books are my necessities.”
I halted next to her and snatched up a drawing that resembled a maze—a very large and intricate maze.