The Runaway Queen, A Fire and Fury Prequel Novella

by Shantal Sessions

  “I know you’re charmed by her, my son, but you can’t ask her that. Don’t even think about it,” his mother warned. “She’s got trouble bearing down on her. Someone from outside the wilds will come looking for her.”

  That? Rosamund thought, puzzled. What did she mean?

  “Why not?” Gabriel protested. Rosamund sensed irritation rising in his voice. “There’s not another suitable woman in these parts.”

  “You mean not another as refined,” Eilis scoffed. “There are dozens of women within a league of here who’d give their ample bosoms for the chance to have you look at them with interest.”

  Rosamund chanced a peak around the corner of the wall and down the stairs. Gabriel’s cheeks, the skin above his whiskers had reddened, bright as apples, and he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he replied in frustration.

  “Sure, it is,” she replied. “You want a woman who appeals to you. That’s natural enough, but there is another problem I’m not sure you’ve noticed just yet . . .” She paused and eyed her son warily, swallowed hard, then pressed her lips together. “You’ll not want to hear this, son, but the girl is with child.”

  Rosamund gasped and flattened her back against the wall of the loft, her chest heaving with distress. She’d been sick, just sick, that’s all.

  “What makes you think that?” Gabriel growled in frustration. “She’s been through holy hell, mother. Bandits attacked her and then she fell into the pit, almost killed both times. She’s told me she has an unsettled stomach. I don’t think that’s unusual for delicate women.”

  “Her stomach is upset in the mornings, Gabriel,” Eilis argued. “That’s very common in the early stages. Think about it. Think about what your sisters have gone through, carrying and bearing their babes.”

  Her heart thundering in her ears, Rosamund could barely catch her breath. She clutched her chest, trying to think it through. Her body was only responding to the trauma she’d experienced. She hadn’t thought there could be another explanation; she didn’t want another explanation! Rosamund slumped to the floor and tried not to hyperventilate, reality sinking deep into her bones. Could she really be with child sired by a man she loathed? A man she’d run away from? And why hadn’t she become pregnant sooner? It had been five long years of pure torture enduring that man’s brutal pleasures. Would Colestus have suspected that she carried a child before she fled? If so, how hard would he try to find his heir? Or would he deny the child, bury her existence, annul their marriage, and try and find another wife of the proper lineage and try again? Rosamund held her head in her hands trying to stop the spinning, her mind running in circles over the circumstances, now much more alarming than they had been a moment ago.

  Rosamund peeked around the corner again. Gabriel seemed upset. He stood rigid with his hands on hips and stared at the ceiling. He began pacing, but then rounded on his mother glaring at her. She thought he would yell and raise the roof off the house, but he was calm and spoke with an agonizing softness.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. She’s fragile, but so fiercely brave,” he whispered, his eyes never wavering, boring into the eyes of his mother. “I don’t know what circumstances have driven her to the far reaches of the kingdom. I don’t even care if she’s with child . . .”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

  “I don’t!” he snapped and began pacing again. “You should’ve seen her cowering on that tiny ledge in the briar patch. She was afraid, but she had an inner reserve of strength. She was not about to give up despite her dire circumstances. I don’t know, mother,” he sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. “I want to help her.”

  “Just so long as you know what you’re getting into.” Eilis shrugged and began winding a long thread of wool onto a spool that would be used for weaving fabric.

  Rosamund sat in shock, staring at her hands clasped over her knees. She had not realized that Gabriel had such strong feelings for her. Sadly, she wasn’t sure if she could return his affection. She didn’t know if she could stand a man touching her ever again. If she’d met Gabriel as a younger girl, she would’ve run away, scared out of her wits. He was fearsome to behold. Definitely not the kind of man a woman of noble blood would consider for her future, but he had a side to him that was unexpected, a certain vulnerability that she had not seen in men of the court or in proper society. Many of those men were calculating and cruel, like her husband. She knew from the moment she set on eyes on Gabriel that he was not like them.

  Perhaps that made him weak. Perhaps that made him perfect.

  A strong side of her didn’t want to take advantage of him, either, even though she was terribly desperate. She wouldn’t make a man suffer because she didn’t have proper feelings for him.

  “Rose,” he called. “Could you come down?”

  When she appeared at the top of the stairs, sniffling and tears threatening, he was still glowering at his mother. His eyes softened upon seeing her and noticed that she’d been crying. He grabbed a linen from the table and offered it to her. “Are you unwell? Do you need to sit down?”

  She blinked a few times to hold back the tears, a sad smile etched across her face. “My world just became a little more complicated than I realized.”

  “I know what you mean,” he sighed and glanced at his mother. “Can you walk?”

  Rose shot him a look of confusion.

  “Of course, you can walk,” he amended, embarrassed. “What I mean is, can you walk uphill for a while? There is a special place I’d like to show you. It’s not far, I promise.”

  Chapter 7

  Rosamund followed Gabriel through the door of the cottage into bright sunlight. They passed the footstones of the front porch, scattered with stools, baskets, and a broom nestled in the corner of a lean-to that sheltered a barrel and gardening tools. They walked on an aisle of packed dirt between the front porch and a vegetable garden, still full of cabbage, carrots, and onions. She couldn’t identify more, but could smell rosemary wafting through the air. A hen and her chicks scuttled into the safety of the garden as they passed by. When they were out of the front yard, Rosamund heard barking and looked up to see Gabriel greet a dog that seemed to be guarding the sheep. Cordoned off by a rock wall, about a dozen sheep grazed lazily. A few of them looked up to see Gabriel ruffle the dog’s fur and scratch behind its ears, then uninterested, went back to their eating.

  Raising a hand to shade her eyes, Rosamund looked around and realized that she hadn’t noticed what a productive, tidy place Gabriel had here. It was puzzling to her; he worked the land because his mother was too old for hard labor, but he didn’t live in the cottage with her, either. He’d never mentioned where he lived, but it couldn’t be far. Yet, he had a fine horse and expensive weapons, but no uniform, no outward loyalty to the king. Of course, who would notice or care this far from the Capitol?

  “My mother,” Gabriel began conversationally, as they walked around the back of the house toward a path in the trees. “She, ah, gets under my skin sometimes. We don’t always agree.” He looked at her with furrowed brows and somber eyes, somewhat embarrassed. “I hope you don’t think I’m a man of hard temper.”

  “You are unlike most men I’m accustomed to. I’ve seen tempers rise over the smallest things,” Rosamund replied thoughtfully. Despite his rough appearance and occasional gruff demeanor, he had a noble profile, a proud brow, a straight nose, and full lips. If he were a man of hard temper, or prone to dark moods, how would she ever see him smiling? And he did smile, perhaps more than he wanted others to think.

  “I’ve been watching you for a week and it seems to me that you are a kind man. Why would you have helped me if you weren’t?” Rosamund turned toward him and smiled shyly. Then, looking away, she pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “There’s something else I’ve noticed about you,” she continued. “I don’t believe I’ve run across another man with s
uch a soothing voice, Gabriel. It’s like the whisper of water before it plunges over the cliff. What follows is soft and expressive. One would think of you as one of those burning mountains I’ve read about. You look perfectly capable of exploding.”

  “Oh, I’m capable.” He grimaced. “Luckily, I’m not in a position where I must, at least not any more. Here we are. I call this place Water Rock,” he said, admiring the water as it cascaded from the top over steps to the bottom. “Are you up to climbing?” he asked, pointing to what looked like a narrow game trail.

  Rosamund shrugged and gave him a nervous smile.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Rosamund climbed the steep trail, trying to keep her footing by holding onto the branches of bushes and nearby trees. She slipped a couple of times, but Gabriel’s firm presence made it impossible to fall. He never slipped once.

  Panting from the exertion, Rosamund grabbed a nearby branch to steady herself while she caught her breath. She hadn’t noticed anything in particular except that the creek ran right through the middle of the gigantic boulder, with trees growing out of it. Gabriel came up behind her, clearly not out of breath, nudged her elbow and said, “Look.”

  When she glanced around, Rosamund was overwhelmed at the beauty. It was a perfect panorama of thickly forested ridges converging at the top of a mountain range. Ominous, the peak of the tallest mountain jutted like a spike, but the sister peaks looked like the edge of a saw, sharp and jagged. To each side of the range, the land smoothed out into plateaus.

  “This is glorious,” she sighed, elated. “The mountains are breath-taking, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sky such a perfect Forget-Me-Not blue. Have you?”

  “No, not quite,” Gabriel grinned at her. “I found you right over there,” he said, pointing to the forest plateau closest to them. “That’s where the sink hole is.”

  She shook her head in amazement. “I’m glad you did. I’ve never been so relieved in my life to see someone standing there. I was dreaming of my horse, thought your horse was Merry and when I opened my eyes, there you were in a shaft of sunshine with a look of dread on your face. I think you thought I was dead.”

  “Before you woke, I wondered . . .” Gabriel nodded, but the genial look on his face had faded. “Rose, I must speak to you; it’s very important. Shall we sit?” he asked, pointing to a large tree that had fallen near the edge of the rock.

  Rosamund had been enjoying herself so much, that for a just a moment, she’d forgotten why they had come.

  “Of course, Gabriel. What is it?”

  “Before I shot Kieran, he told me quite a story.” He grimaced uncomfortably and cupped his chin, smoothing his whiskers. “One I never thought would come to pass.” He paused for a moment, it seemed to Rosamund, to watch her reaction. She had to force herself to be still, like a rabbit contemplating the trap. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, as if it would burst. Her worries plummeted into the pit of her stomach, afraid that he’d discovered the truth and she had no idea what to do about it. Should she spring the trap and run or admit everything?

  “Anyway. . .” Gabriel relaxed a little, stretching his long legs out before him and crossed them at the ankles, his arms folded across his chest. “He was expecting you to show up near his lands, told you as much in the glade. He even asked me if I’d seen a lady lost in the woods before I found you in the pit.”

  Rosamund felt sweat appear on her upper lip and coursing down the middle of her back. Pressing her lips together nervously, she put a hand to her ear and grasped her lobe. She couldn’t force herself to look him in the eye.

  “There is also news out of the Capitol,” he continued, watching her every move. “Apparently, the queen has run away. The rumors are flying and the king is said to be so furious that he is offering huge rewards for her and the two people he is certain helped her escape. One rumor portrayed the king in such a rage that he screamed, said he would kick them off the gallows himself, watch them sway in the breeze and stink up the village square while the crows pick at their eyes.”

  Unable to move, to breathe, or even to see, Rosamund sat motionless. She had a vague notion of water flowing nearby, of birds calling, even a gentle breeze caressing her skin.She couldn’t stop the flow of tears or the desperate pain she felt for putting the lives of her friends in danger. Why had she listened to Hardwin and Lady Alimaida? Why had she allowed them to help? She’d thought a thousand times since her escape that she would rather die than have her friends caught and tortured. Hoping and praying beyond the yearnings of her heart, Rosamund wished that she had news of them. Had Hardwin, his family, and Lady Alimaida done as they planned and gotten out of the country before Colestus returned from the hunt? That would’ve given them several days of travel before the king’s search parties fanned out through Edmira.

  “Our countrymen are all a dither about it. I suppose they would be, what with that much of a reward hanging in the balance. Kieran even found a notice posted in one of the villages, with the queen’s likeness drawn on parchment. Her full name is Rosamund Lilia Lavender Farrimond.” Gabriel paused for a moment, placed his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. He turned his face toward her and with a look of unutterable sadness, he whispered, “She looks an awful lot like you, Rose.”

  Rosamund couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She sat sniffling, tears streaming down her cheeks. She finally used the cuff of her blouse to wipe her face. After she gained some composure, she cleared her throat and asked, “What will you do?”

  “I’ll do what is right.”

  “What is right?” she asked, confused. She fell to her knees and looked up into his face, begging and sobbing. “I have money if that’s what you want, Gabriel. Please don’t send me back.”

  “Shhh, lass,” he consoled, patting her shoulder, but she flinched at his touch and backed away. He looked perplexed by her response, but he pressed on. “That’s not what I want, nor what is right.”

  “What then?”

  “Marry me.”

  Rosamund blinked in shock and blurted, “What? I can’t do that. Gabriel, I could be with child, the king’s child. I thought he was trying to poison me and maybe he was. I thought that’s why my stomach would never settle. I can’t help but think that your mother is right. You can’t possibly want to marry a woman who will be hunted her whole life.”

  “Kieran had inside sources,” Gabriel replied knowingly. “He said the king has already found a woman he believes will be legitimate according to the law. He’s waiting a proper amount of mourning time before he ties the knot. He doesn’t seem desolate over losing you, aside from the fact that he wants to catch you and exact your punishment himself.”

  “Well, I’m not desolate over escaping either,” she said bitterly.

  “Did you run because of what I saw on your back?”

  She scowled at him through her tears. “He hurt me.”

  “I know,” he said, so softly that her ears had to strain to hear him. “Did he . . . whip you?”

  “I . . . I can’t relive it, Gabriel,” Rosamund said, her entire body quaking with anxiety, trying to keep the horrible images at bay. “He used me in ways that were unspeakable. I didn’t please him in the bedchamber and what he did for his own pleasure felt like punishment. I suppose it’s my fault. No one took me aside in advance of the marriage and told me what to expect or even gave me the slightest idea of what to do. I’ve never believed . . .” she continued, haltingly, “that interludes of that nature . . . had to involve . . . pain. At least, that’s what married women have told me.”

  “Those women are right. It’s not your fault,” Gabriel said emphatically, stood up, and began to pace around a small river birch tree. “I can save you from him, Rose. He might be interested in the child you carry, but I don’t think he knows. I can hide you both from him.”

  He sat down on the log and looked into her eyes, his brows clashing with concern. “Kieran is gone. I don’t believe his wife, paramours,
kids, or bastards will connect his disappearance with you. They’ll never find him. No need to exact vengeance,” he finished and looked off into the distance as if, he too, had to lock an unpleasant memory away. “We could live here for a while. It’s remote enough. You wouldn’t have to go into the village. I’ve got my mother and sisters to help with that. If any villagers start getting curious about you, we’ll live deeper in the woods, farther away from prying eyes. I’ll teach you to live in the wilds, how to do all of the things that you never learned, and how to protect yourself and the babe. I know it’s not a life of luxury like what you’re used to, but it can be a happy life. I can protect you and even love you.”

  Rosamund threw him a fierce glare that silenced him. She couldn’t imagine herself loving anyone, ever.

  “Eventually, if you’ll let me.”

  “Gabriel,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t know me. How can you know if you’d even like me or trust me for that matter? I have the same problem to consider.”

  “You must trust me . . . a little,” he said, tilting his head and offering a crooked smile from under those great whiskers. “I have my reasons for liking and trusting you. Would you tell just anyone about the terrors of the king’s bedchamber?”

  “No,” Rosamund said, turning her face away shamefully, burning with embarrassment. She already wished she hadn’t told him. “But still, I couldn’t do that to you. You flatter me. Honestly, you do. What man in his right mind would make such an offer to a woman in my situation? You deserve better. I am desperate and beaten. I . . . I mean, we would be a terrible burden to you. I’d be a poor help-mate. I haven’t the slightest idea how to cook or clean or garden or weave or anything that must be done in the wild. I couldn’t even keep up with your mother. I’m not suitable for you.”