Fate Abandoned (Book 1 of the Fate Abandoned Series)

by L. Danvers

  The water was refreshingly cool. Daphne dipped down so that it covered her shoulders, but Lillian took longer to adjust. She winced and scrunched her nose, and Daphne told her she needed to splash some water on herself so she could get used to it. Lillian resisted at first, but she eventually took her advice, and sure enough, it worked.

  Daphne held her breath and went under, imagining the filth washing away. She combed her fingers through her hair as she came back up to the surface, so as to keep her chestnut locks from clinging to her face. She yawned and rubbed the excess water from her eyes.

  When she opened them again, she was once again in awe of her surroundings. She never knew such a place existed.

  How sad it was that she knew so little about her own kingdom. Surely Phillip had passed through it, too. She wondered what he thought of this place.

  There was a sinking feeling in her stomach when Phillip came to mind. She hoped he was alright.

  She hadn’t realized that Lillian had already gotten dressed. Daphne wrung out her hair while she waded through the stream, checking to make sure the boys were still out of sight. Lillian was waiting for her, holding out the princess’s clothes. She offered to braid Daphne’s hair while they waited for the boys to return. She was such a kind soul. She may not have had rosy cheeks or cherry lips, but Lillian had a beauty about her that radiated from her very being.

  They sat together on a patch of moss, and Lillian separated Daphne’s hair into sections. She folded the sections over one another systematically, and water dripped from the ends with each tug. She was skilled at braiding, and Daphne loved her handiwork, but Lillian always pulled so tight.

  Daphne had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Her hair might have been clean, but it was tangled, which made Lillian’s tugging all the more painful.

  “There,” Lillian said, giving the princess a pat on the shoulder. “All finished.”

  Daphne turned around to face her, and she thanked her for her help. She would have offered to braid Lillian’s hair if she had known how, but Lillian didn’t mind. She gave herself a simple braid while the two of them sat together in silence.

  They watched the boys as the three of them walked back in the girls’ direction. Lillian looked like she was about to say something, but she stopped herself.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Go on. You can tell me anything.”

  She craned her neck, making sure Gregory, Thomas and Merek were far enough away that they couldn’t hear her. Her cheeks went pink, and she said, “They’re not too hard on the eyes when they’re not covered in dirt. I mean, they’re not as cute as Hadrien, if you ask me, but they clean up well.”

  Lillian had always had a thing for Phillip’s manservant, the one they had run into in the royal stables when they were fleeing the castle.

  The one who was hopefully keeping their secret.

  Hadrien wasn’t all that cute as far as Daphne was concerned. He was a plump fellow with round cheeks and a rounder belly. She supposed Lillian was blinded by her affection for him. Lillian and Hadrien had grown up together, and their families were close. Daphne was surprised they weren’t already a couple, as good of friends as they were, but she figured it would come in time.

  Daphne gave the boys another glance, and she was taken aback by how handsome Gregory looked—the way the light bounced off his light brown hair.

  Those lips.

  Those arms.

  She felt uncomfortably warm, and she immediately turned back to Lillian.

  She worried what was coming over her. She couldn’t seriously be attracted to him.

  Could she?

  “Lillian—they’re thieves,” Daphne said, half to remind Lillian, and half to remind herself. “They kidnapped us not long ago, if you recall.”

  “Technically Borin kidnapped us. They are helping us now, though, aren’t they? And anyway, they’re still handsome. And I think Gregory cares for you a good bit.”

  Daphne gulped.

  Her neck felt tight. “Excuse me?”

  “The way he was flirting with that wench to try to get under your skin. Come on. He was testing the waters, trying to see if he could make you jealous,” she said. It had worked, but Daphne wasn’t about to admit that, not even to herself. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

  Daphne shrugged.

  She didn’t know what to think or feel. It was hard to imagine him liking her. She was a princess. She represented everything he stood against.

  And he... he was an outlaw. Even if they were to want to be together, King Edgar would never approve. He couldn’t have an outlaw in line for the throne. What would people say?

  “Even if you’re right,” Daphne said, “there are more important things to worry about. Like finding Phillip. I think it would do us both good to remember where the boys’ loyalties lie: their coin purses. They don’t care about us, Lillian. Not really. They’re only here because I’m paying them to be here. Greed can make the most unsavory of characters do the right thing if it yields them the greatest reward. We would be wise to remember that.”

  Lillian was about to respond, but she pursed her lips, realizing that the boys were getting close.

  The two of them stood to greet them. Daphne avoided looking at Gregory at all costs. Thomas looked different with clean hair, no longer appearing quite so frumpy. She wondered how long it would be before it was a mess again. Tall, lanky Merek, on the other hand, looked the same. Just... no longer covered in splotches of dirt.

  Together, the five of them ventured deeper into the ancient woodland.

  They smelled far better than they had before, but they didn’t smell good, that was for certain. Their clothes hadn’t been washed, after all. Nevertheless, Daphne felt a renewed energy with her freshened skin and neatly braided hair. It was a good thing, too, because the longer they walked, the more treacherous their surroundings became. First, there were the piles of boulders. Daphne joked to herself that if she ever became queen she’d banish all boulders from the land. There was nothing more frustrating than having to scale rocks when her muscles were already in agony. Then there were the vines, dripping from the treetops like summer rain. She felt a tightness in her chest every time she got tangled in one. The group tried cutting their way through them, of course, but there were so many that they kept finding themselves getting caught anyway. They weren’t the most delicate of plants, either. The vines were thick and riddled with thorns. They lost track of how many times they got poked or scratched as they wrestled through them. Adding to their annoyance was the constant scurrying of furry critters across the ground. While caught in a sea of vines, Merek accidentally stepped on one’s tail. The creature yelped, and Merek yelped louder.

  They had finally fought their way through the vines when Gregory went still. He pressed his fingers to his lips, shushing the others so he could listen. The way his eyes darted from side to side made Daphne’s heart pound. It scared her to imagine what he was hearing. He waved for them to follow, and the group crept behind a cluster of fruit-bearing bushes.

  Every inch of Daphne pulsed with fear.

  She didn’t know what it was that Gregory had heard, and by how hard his jaw was set, she was afraid to ask. But she didn’t have to.

  Boots gushed against the moss, slapping the ground with each heavy step. She worried someone had heard Merek’s yelp. She cursed that stupid animal for scaring him. She would have cursed Merek, too, had he been anyone else, but he was too kind for her to hold anything against him.

  A gruff voice called out from up ahead. “Did you hear something?”

  “Over here,” another said.

  Daphne was glad she couldn’t see their faces. If their looks matched their voices, the five of them were in trouble. She reminded herself to breathe. It was illogical, but it was like some part of her feared they’d hear her. The men’s footsteps grew louder, and Lillian trembled beside her. By the way the color had drained from her, Daphne suspected Lillian
could see the men through the bush’s leaves. The look on her face made Daphne’s stomach twist.

  There was movement in the corner of Daphne’s eye.

  She turned and saw Gregory reach for his sword. She did the same. Something about holding onto Light of Vengeance’s grip steadied her nerves. She had killed an atrocitas, after all. But could she kill men?

  She wasn’t sure if she had it in her.

  Not that she wasn’t capable. She could certainly fight. But to take the life from another person—no matter how horrible they were... she wasn’t sure she could do it.

  At the same time, she wasn’t about to give up without a fight. Not when she still had to find Phillip.

  With his free hand, Gregory pulled back one of the bush’s branches. Daphne wondered what he was thinking. What if the men heard him? But then it became clear that he intended to attack first. He lifted his fingers and counted: one, two, three.

  The group sprang to their feet, weapons in hand, only the bush standing between them and the two brutish men charging their way.

  Gregory skirted around the bush, swinging his blade at them. There was such confidence in the way he moved. Daphne was mesmerized by how the steel of his sword cut through the air, and it was only when one of Merek’s arrows glided past him that she realized she was staring.

  The arrow shot into one of the brute’s meaty arms. He grunted and pulled it out. Blood oozed from the wound as the man snapped the arrow in half and tossed it behind him.

  Terror overtook Merek’s face. His mouth snapped shut.

  Thomas wasn’t about to give up, though. He flung a dagger through the air, the blade of which sliced a curl from the brute’s black hair. The man drew his upper lip back in a snarl and charged toward him. With one hard punch, Thomas was out cold.

  Daphne didn’t know what to do. She wanted to check on Thomas. She prayed that he had just been knocked out, that he wasn’t dead.

  Gregory was in a heated sword fight with the other ogre-sized brute. She could help him. She knew she could. She stepped forward, but Merek jerked her shoulder back. “He can handle himself,” he said. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  Daphne appreciated Merek’s concern for her wellbeing, but she questioned his judgement when she saw the other brute close in on Gregory. It was two against one. They had to do something.

  Merek stepped out in front of her, drew an arrow and fired it at the men.

  He missed.

  Gregory’s sword was knocked right out of his hand. He reached for it, but he was stopped by the touch of a cold blade to his neck.

  Daphne was shaking. She covered her mouth, trying to keep from sobbing.

  Left with no other choice, Gregory raised his hands in surrender.

  Merek readied another arrow and aimed it at the brute, who was now holding Gregory by the throat.

  Fearing they would be captured, Daphne twisted her ring around, leaving only the band visible.

  Gregory was trying to peel the brute’s fingers from his neck, which was turning crimson.

  Merek gulped and said, “Let him go.”

  “Release the arrow, boy,” the brute boomed, “and your friend here dies.”

  Redness crept up Gregory’s face. “Shoot him,” he said, gasping for air. “Save yourselves.”

  Tears shimmered in Merek’s eyes, and Daphne could tell he wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. Save his friend, or save the rest of them?

  He exhaled and pulled the arrow back.

  Daphne closed her eyes, unable to watch.

  She braced for the sound of his arrow whizzing through the air, but the sound didn’t come. She peeked one eye open, and then the other.

  With a heavy sigh, Merek lowered his bow and arrow.

  The brutes didn’t waste a second before tying their hands behind their backs. Daphne’s wrists were raw from the quick, abrasive scrapes of rope against them. Daphne, Lillian, Merek and Gregory were tied together and herded like the sheep they’d seen in Fundum. One brute dragged them forward, while the curly-headed one walked behind them with an unconscious Thomas flung over his shoulder. Daphne cringed every time she heard Thomas’s legs beat against the brute’s chest. She hoped he would be alright. Surely if he was dead, the brutes would have just left him there.

  They marched for hours throughout the woodland. Daphne resented the deception in its beauty. She’d felt a false sense of security from the magnificent trees and the songs of birds, but this place was no better than the silver forest.

  Night came for them. Flames flickered in the distance. The brutes were invigorated by the sight of their camp, and the one up front jerked them with such force it was all Daphne could do to keep from stumbling to the ground.

  The campfire was surrounded by twelve more men who looked to be of equal size and strength to one another. Daphne wondered where such unsavory characters found each other. Did they recruit? Did they put up signs? Or did a group of like-minded vagrants just happen to meet and decide to join forces? Either way, the men spat at and cursed at the captives as they were dragged to where three large, wooden poles stood erect from the ground.

  The brutes tied Daphne and Gregory back to back, the pole standing between where the two of them sat. Merek and Lillian were tied beside them. Thomas, out cold, was secured to the final pole.

  “What are we waiting for?” one of the brutes asked the other. “When do we get to kill them?” The eagerness with which he said it made Daphne’s skin crawl.

  “It’s much more fun to watch them squirm first,” the other replied. “We’ll wait a day or two. Make ‘em sweat it out. Go ahead and dig their graves over there where they can see them.”

  Daphne’s eyes swelled with tears.

  Each plunge of the shovel into the dirt felt like a dagger in her heart.

  She wished they would just kill them. Anything would be better than this torment.

  Why had she been so foolish to think she could save her brother? She couldn’t even save herself. It made her sick to think of what this would do to the king. To lose his son and his daughter. She thought of how he’d hardened after her mother’s death. What would become of him now?

  Worrying would do her no good. She was as good as dead. She wouldn’t be there to see the aftermath anyway.

  Her eyes glazed over while she watched dirt sling through the air.

  “Princess Daphne,” Gregory whispered.

  She didn’t respond. What was there to say?

  “I’m sorry I let you down. I should have—”

  She gulped. She couldn’t let him carry the burden of their doom. This was her fault, not his. She cut him off and said, “There is nothing you could have done. Fate is fate. I have been fighting it my whole life, but it turns out there is no escaping it. You just have to accept it for what it is. I was foolish enough to listen to the prediction of some old hag who told me Phillip would die on his quest. I tried to stop it, to interfere with destiny. And look where it got me. Look where it got all of us.”

  Chapter Ten

  Daphne couldn’t see the flames from where she sat, but she could see their shadows dance across the brutes’ tents, jumping with each snap and crackle. By the looks of the hunched shapes surrounding them, the men were huddled around the fire, warming their hands while the stew cooked. Some licked their lips loudly, slurping in anticipation of the meal. Maybe Phillip should have been a brute, she thought. Then she kicked herself for thinking such things. This was no laughing matter.

  When the stew was ready, Daphne saw the shadow of the smallest brute—who wasn’t all that small—ladle it into bowls. The silhouettes of the men leaned back as they poured the stew down their throats.

  But one shadow was getting larger. Closer.

  Her breath caught when she heard footsteps coming up behind her. She felt Gregory shift uneasily on the other side of her, but the brute didn’t stop when he reached him. Instead, he walked around the pole and stood before Daphne. It was the same brute with curly black ha
ir and eyes as dark as night. He watched her as he took an obnoxiously long slurp of stew, then he licked his lips. His chin dripped with broth, and a sliver of fat clung to his beard.

  He knelt before her so that they were eye level. He reached for Daphne, and she tried to squirm out of the way, but there was nowhere to go. He ran his sausage-like fingers along her braids. “Such a shame for a pretty thing like you to go to waste. I could have fun with you. Who knows? Perhaps I will yet.”

  She spat in his eye.

  It may not have been the smartest thing to do, but it was the only thing she could think of.

  She had never been so repulsed by anyone in her life. He looked at her like she was a piece of meat, and she wasn’t about to sit there and take it. She was dead anyway.

  Her face stung as the back of his hairy hand met her cheek. The slap was hard and loud.

  “Leave her alone,” Gregory demanded.

  The brute’s black eyes lit with anger. He stood and stomped to the other side of the pole, stopping in front of Gregory. “What did you say to me?”

  “Forgive me,” Gregory said. There was a peculiar tone in his voice. Daphne furrowed her brow, confused by his sudden shift in demeanor. “It must be the hunger getting to me. If you could just be so kind as to untie me so that I could eat, I would be forever grateful.”

  What was he talking about? He couldn’t really have thought the brute was going to untie him. Daphne sighed and leaned the back of her head against the pole, her cheek still burning. She wished they would kill her already. This was torture.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” The brute snarled. “You’re hungry, you say? Here. Enjoy.”

  At that, Daphne heard the sloshing of what must have been the brute’s bowl being turned upside down. By the sound Gregory made, the brute had dumped his stew on him. The brute’s shadow got smaller as he stomped back over to the fire to refill his bowl.

  Gregory was squirming behind her.