Hereafter (The Lost Princesses Book 3)

by Jody Hedlund

  “We shall water and feed the horses and let them rest for a few minutes,” the prince said in his usual tone of authority. “Then we shall ride on again.”

  My inward groan matched Magnus’s outward one. For how much longer would we push on without eating a proper meal or sleeping? I suspected Rex and his men could go for several days, but I hoped that wasn’t the case this time.

  Dante slid off the mount. Before he could reach up for me, the prince was there, his large hands upon me, lifting me down. Again, as moments ago, he assessed me, the blue of his eyes even brighter up close.

  When my feet touched the ground, my knees buckled, and I would have fallen if the prince hadn’t caught and steadied me. His long fingers spanned my waist. The pressure was gentle and yet firm at the same time, making me all too aware of his nearness just inches away.

  Examining my wrists, his brow furrowed. “Dante, cut the princess’s bindings.”

  “Hands and feet, Your Highness?” the young man asked.

  “Why did you not inform me the ropes were chafing her?” The prince’s tone was laced with irritation.

  Dante bent to look at my wrists and noted the red, raw skin. He shook his head apologetically. “I didn’t see it, Your Highness.”

  The prince’s scowl deepened, and he seemed to refrain from lashing out at his second-in-command as he cut away the binding.

  “I was trying to loosen the ropes,” I admitted, not wishing Dante to suffer on my account. “And thought to hide my efforts from him.”

  Rex turned his scowl upon me. “You should have slept.”

  I lifted my chin.

  With a growl under his breath, Rex swung me up into his arms and carried me to a fallen log. Gently, he lowered me, but the moment my backside touched the wood, I couldn’t contain my cry of pain. My bones ached in every part, but especially where my hindquarters had bumped in the saddle for hours.

  He hovered above me, worry clouding his eyes. “What ails you, Emmeline?”

  I started to motion toward my backside but then stopped, unable to speak frankly with him about my predicament. Instead, heat climbed into my cheeks.

  As if sensing what I couldn’t tell him, he quickly straightened. For the first time since meeting him, he was not only at a loss for words, but he fumbled before he lifted me and positioned me in a cushion of tall grass.

  “Better,” I said, appreciating the stillness and the softness of the earth more so than I ever had before in my life.

  He shoved a hard roll and an apple into my hands. “Here, eat these.”

  My stomach was growling, and I couldn’t turn down his offer, although part of me warned against accepting his favors. He left me, posting two guards beside me as I reclined in the grass and nibbled on my food.

  Our break this time was longer than the prior ones. I suspected the prince had extended the respite for my sake, and I was grateful. Finally, he approached. As he stooped and picked me up, I couldn’t protest or struggle, even though I knew I should.

  Dante helped to settle me on the horse in front of the prince. When I found myself sitting on a cushion of blankets, I couldn’t contain my surprise at the prince’s sensitivity in trying to ease my discomfort. I tilted so I could see his face.

  He held himself tall and straight, his head high, his sights probing the woodland. For the first time since meeting him, I seemed to really see him—not as my captor, but as a man. His face was only inches from mine so that I could take in every scar, smudge, and mark. Beneath a thick layer of stubble, his jaw was long and chiseled. His cheekbones were broad and his nose the perfect shape.

  As though sensing my scrutiny, his gaze flickered to mine before returning to our surroundings. “Do I meet with your approval?”

  I turned my attention to the woodland, too, and pretended to study it, although all my mind could envision was his face—rugged and yet entirely too appealing.

  Suddenly, I was conscious of the way his hard chest pressed against me, the strength of his arms surrounding me as he held the reins, and the essence of power that emanated from him. I had the urge to squirm, to put distance between us. But I had no place to go. All I could think about was that I was with a man, and I had no idea how to act or what to do.

  Of course, I’d watched Mother and Father interact, had witnessed their abiding love and the tenderness with which they treated each other. But I’d never had any practice for myself in mingling or speaking with men my age. I didn’t know where to start—or even if I wanted to start.

  I peeked at the prince only to find my gaze connecting with his once more. His eyes were beautiful, especially in contrast to his warrior-like expression. They pierced through me and made my pulse lurch with unusual speed.

  I closed my eyes.

  What was going on? Why was I reacting this way to a stranger?

  Mother had taught me the finer lessons of life and had tried to explain the process of courtship and marriage. Even as she’d insisted I’d one day be ready for marriage, and perhaps even fall in love, I’d always proclaimed that I didn’t care if I ever met a man and got married.

  And for the most part, I’d been telling the truth. I hadn’t cared. Only once in a while, like when I’d watch my father slip his arm around my mother’s waist, draw her near, and nuzzle her neck, had I wondered what such love would feel like and if I’d ever experience it for myself.

  This isn’t the time for love or even attraction, I silently rebuked myself. Especially not with the enemy. I had to stay strong, remain vigilant, and continue working toward escape. That’s what my father would have wanted me to do—refrain from being mesmerized by beautiful eyes.

  I shut my own eyes tighter, forcing myself not to look at the prince and to ignore the curiosity that was growing in spite of my silent lecture to stay detached. But even with my eyes closed, I was still too aware of his strong presence enveloping me and threatening to undo me. Although I worked on keeping my posture rigid, I finally gave way to the weariness that weighed upon me more heavily than it ever had before.

  Wakefulness hovered at the edge of my senses, but I fought it away. Instead, I burrowed farther into the warmth and solidness of the arms surrounding me, relishing the feeling of safety. In fact, I’d never felt safer than I did at that moment, knowing with certainty that nothing and no one would be able to hurt me.

  Strong but gentle fingers smoothed down flyaway strands of my hair, brushing lightly, almost reverently along one of my cheeks. The other cheek rested against a solid chest, the steady thud of a heartbeat echoing in my ear.

  My eyes flew open to the awareness of a horse jostling beneath me, the aching in every joint in my body, and the fact that a man’s arm was wrapped around my waist. One glance at the black chain mail brought back the direness of my plight, the realization I’d been captured from my home and was a prisoner.

  Panic burst in my chest. But before I could sit forward and claw my way to freedom, the soft fingers glided over my cheek again. The touch was infinitely tender, grazing my skin and combing back my hair in one move.

  The prince. I didn’t have to see him to recognize the strength of his body against mine, different from Dante, who’d held me much more formally.

  I released a breath, allowing the panic to ease from my body. The pressure of the prince’s arm around my waist felt somehow secure, not imprisoning. And as his calloused fingertips trailed up my cheekbone, I closed my eyes and rested my head against him, relishing the sweetness of his touch, so delicate and yet so masculine at the same time.

  Something in the caress sank into my skin and blazed a path through my blood, pumping it harder so that it spread strange warmth into my chest. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to awaken fully, didn’t want this moment of tenderness to end.

  Yet a voice from my conscience reminded me that while Rex might be a better man than I’d expected, he was still King Ethelwulf’s son. I couldn’t forget that King Ethelwulf had been the one to murder my birth parents, had hung th
eir bodies from the castle wall after his invasion, and had been hunting my sisters and me for years in order to destroy any threat to the throne.

  “I am glad you slept.” Rex’s low voice rumbled near my ear and made my stomach vault head over heels.

  I was tempted to luxuriate in the warmth and strength of his embrace a little longer. I was still weak and tired, I told myself. But with my father’s disappointed face rising before me, I sat up straight, moving away from his caress.

  “You’ll not be so glad if it means I’ve regained my strength and energy so that I might more easily get away.” As I took in our surroundings, I startled at the realization we were in the open heathland, with hills spreading as far as the eye could see. Majestic rocky crags, purple heather, and crowberry added splashes of color to the pale green. The sky above went on endlessly in all directions, the streaks of lavender and sienna telling me the sun had just made its descent in the west.

  For my whole life I’d been surrounded by dense trees. Consequently, I was speechless at this splendor, so unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  “The land is a fierce beauty, is she not?” the prince whispered, tugging me close again.

  “She is.” I had not the will nor desire to resist and found myself reclining against his chest. “My geography books did not do her justice.”

  “Perhaps I might help in that regard.”

  While we weren’t riding as fast as we had previously, our pace was still steady and hard. Even so, for a short time, I forgot I was a prisoner as the prince answered my questions about the land and the species of plants and brush I didn’t recognize, along with the wildlife and fowl that lived in the heathland.

  “You are very knowledgeable of the terrain,” I said at last, “for one who has not lived in Mercia for long.”

  “Father Patrick taught me as much about Mercia as he did Warwick.” He cocked his head toward the priest who lagged behind with Magnus. “And you. You are knowledgeable as well.”

  “My parents made sure I was educated,” I answered. “And I very nearly memorized every book we owned.” My thoughts strayed to the books dumped onto the grass by the prince’s men, the pages fluttering in the breeze as though waving good-bye. They’d been my only treasure, and I’d miss them sorely.

  For a moment, I prayed Father and Mother had made their escape. If I’d harbored any hope they might be able to catch up to us and help free me, I realized now the futility of such thinking, especially since they had no mounts, and our travels had been too swift, the prince too wise, and the forces too great.

  Around us, dusk had settled. The last of daylight was fading, leaving in its place the widest sky I’d ever seen, where the first stars had already made their appearance.

  “Do you know the stars?” he asked, tilting his head back to gaze above us as I had.

  “A little. Enough to find my way at night.”

  “Can you name the constellation directly to our east?”

  I studied the dark eastern horizon, drawing a mental picture of the few stars I could see. “Is the large constellation Cygnus, the Northern Cross?”

  “Yes.” His tone registered both surprise and admiration. “And the bright star to the southeast of it?”

  As he listed the names of the constellations I didn’t know, I soaked in the knowledge, delighted to learn, studying the shapes in the sky and drawing the patterns as he taught them to me.

  When he shared everything he knew about the stars, I plied him for information about the galaxies, the sun, and even the moon. Finally, well after dusk, he whistled for his men to stop and make camp. We’d reached a small brook, a perfect place to water the horses and provide refreshment to ourselves.

  As my feet touched the ground, the prince steadied me. I was stronger now, having grown more accustomed to the riding, and although still sore, I stood on my own. Through the dark, I eyed the area and mentally sketched my getaway route. I’d go once most of the men were asleep.

  “Do not try it, Emmeline,” he warned.

  I wanted to release an exasperated sigh. How could he read me so well?

  “I would not hesitate to chain you to my side whilst we slumber.” His fingers circled my arm.

  I bristled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He leaned in so that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body in the growing coolness of the night. “I would dare it. So do not tempt me.”

  I didn’t need to see his expression to know he was serious. His tone told me enough.

  Since it appeared my previous strategy of breaking away and running wouldn’t work, I needed a new plan. A campfire was soon blazing, and I joined Father Patrick in front of it. My mind spun with options even as I made small talk with the kindly priest and did my best to avoid Magnus.

  We ate and drank and stretched our stiff limbs. It wasn’t long before the priest, Magnus, and most of the soldiers spread out their bedrolls around the fire and fell asleep. The prince and several others had taken the first watch, positioning themselves in strategic locations around the perimeter of our camp.

  I’d laid my bedroll somewhat away from the others, insisting to Rex that as a woman I needed privacy, but ultimately hoping my location in the shadows and near a boulder would allow me to sneak off undetected.

  Once I lay down and covered myself with the woolen blanket, I shivered. I was too far from the campfire to draw its warmth. More than that, my body quivered with the fear of the unknown as I mentally plotted the quickest route to Norland.

  Although Father had taught me everything he could, there was one thing he couldn’t impart, and that was courage. I didn’t know if I had the strength to push forward, especially out here away from all that was familiar.

  I hugged my arms around my thin frame and closed my eyes, determined to get some sleep. After all, I didn’t dare attempt anything until Rex’s turn at watch was over, and he lay down to slumber. At that point, he’d be exhausted and hopefully wouldn’t notice me creep away.

  Chapter

  8

  Rex

  I roused with the feeling something wasn’t right. A glance at the position of the moon told me I’d been resting for several hours. I hadn’t allowed myself to fall into a deep sleep so I could keep my senses alert, especially if Emmeline tried something.

  Even so, the moment my eyes opened and landed upon the empty bedroll a handspan away, my chest exploded with the force of a battering ram. The chain I’d shackled to Emmeline’s ankle and mine lay undisturbed and unmoved, except that the lock was wide open.

  I sat up and unfastened the chain from my own foot, silently cursing myself for sleeping at all. I should have known when she’d offered so little resistance to the chain that she was an expert picklock. Of course, Lance would have taught the princess that skill. And of course, she was also an expert at stealth and had been able to move soundlessly away from me as well as from the guards on duty.

  I berated myself again for being so foolish and underestimating her.

  Minutes later, I found her trail and ordered my six fastest men to accompany me. With dawn only an hour away, we didn’t take time to saddle our horses but rode them bareback. I guessed she had a two or three-hour lead since she was a fast runner and likely had the endurance to sprint hard for hours.

  On our horses, we’d easily span the distance. However, with our delay we risked the rebel search party catching up to us and intercepting Emmeline. They’d apparently discovered their tortured comrade sooner than I’d anticipated, and they’d been on our trail for the past day. While I couldn’t be sure how far behind they were, I’d sighted their harpy eagle scouting us, the same eagle they’d used during their days of searching for the princess in Inglewood Forest.

  My heartbeat thundered in rhythm to the horse hooves against the heathland. From the trail Emmeline was taking, she hadn’t known about the queen’s men following us or she would have gone directly to them. As it was, she was heading north, likely planning to travel the Upper Cress River to
the Iron Hills and from there hike through the Highlands into Norland.

  I pushed my steed harder than I had so far, leaning in low and whispering my encouragement as well as begging forgiveness for the unrelenting pace. I willed the horse to understand my frustration and even my panic. I couldn’t lose Emmeline.

  Not only would the king be outraged if I let her get away, but I couldn’t bear the thought of not having her now that she was mine, and a strange possessiveness rose up within my chest.

  For so many weeks, as I’d searched Inglewood Forest, I’d thought of little else but finding her, so much so that I’d obsessed over it. Once I’d finally had her within my arms and stood before the priest and said my vows, I’d pledged myself to her for eternity. I wouldn’t back out on those vows, not for anything. She was my wife now. And I aimed to keep her.

  My men knew better than to speak to me as we traveled, but when we started to circle the outer edge of the Cistern Bogs, Dante whistled the signal to stop.

  I pulled up abruptly and glared at him.

  He nodded to a slight opening in the long grass that surrounded the marshy lowland. “She’s gone into the bog, Your Highness.”

  Certainly, Emmeline had learned about the danger of bogs—the peat formed of spiky grasses and moss that trapped rain and became waterlogged. Golden grass floated like carpet and masked the dangerous water beneath. If that wasn’t bad enough, the bog was home to wild boars, adders, and even sundew—carnivorous plants that were hungry for meat.

  “She knows better.” I dug my heels into my horse’s flank. “She went around.”

  Even if cutting through the bog could save her hours, Emmeline wouldn’t try it. Would she?

  “I could go in and examine further,” Dante said in a rare contradiction of my wishes.

  “We cannot waste the time—”

  A faint cry echoed from the bog. A cry that was distinctly womanly. A cry that could only belong to one woman.