“I apologize for the ambush, milord, but we needed to speak with you and did not think you would accept a polite invitation,” an unfamiliar voice said. “And our need for secrecy is of great importance.”
Royce blinked to clear his eyes. Water and blood dripped down his face, dampening his tunic. He was sitting on the clammy floor of the cave, his back against a wall of rock.
A dark-haired man crouched before him, a metal ewer dangling from his fingers. “Welcome back, Baron Ferrano.” He handed the empty water pitcher to one of the others. “For a moment, I was afraid we might have lost you. Sometimes young Hadwyn does not know his own strength.” He smiled, a crooked grin that revealed white teeth in a tanned, angular face shadowed by a week’s growth of beard. “How do you feel?”
Royce furrowed his brow, not sure he was seeing or hearing right with this ferocious pain in his head. Glancing left and right, he could make out five figures surrounding him. Two he recognized as his Thuringian guards, but the other three were—
The warriors he had fought in Gavena.
His eyes widened as he glanced from lanky, well-dressed Karl... to the strapping, sandy-haired bowman called Landers... to the dark-haired knave crouched before him, the one who had shot him in the arm.
He had been captured by the rebels.
But why now, after Ciara had been safely delivered to Daemon?
And why had they not killed him?
Royce wet his dry lips. “If you think to torture me for information, you are a little late.”
The crooked grin widened. “Nay, milord. Tying you up merely seemed the safest way to make you sit still long enough to listen to what we have to say. It has become clear to us that you are a dangerous man, regardless of the odds against you.”
Royce regarded him through narrowed eyes. The man had the look of a seasoned warrior and an air of confidence and command that marked him as the leader. “Where in the name of Hell am I?” He tested his bonds and found them more than secure—tight, but not painfully so.
“A cave several hundred feet beneath the palace. There is a vast labyrinth of caverns and passageways inside this mountain. The Thuringian branch of our forces has been using this particular one as their base for more than six months now.”
“The Thuringian... what?” Royce echoed.
The skinny young guardsman who had struck him over the head—Hadwyn, the man had called him—knelt beside him. “The Thuringian arm of the rebel forces,” he explained, setting aside an apple he had been eating. “We have been working together since before the war ended.” He folded a damp cloth and pressed it against Royce’s injury. “I am sorry, milord, for the blow to your head, but it was necessary for the benefit of the sentries. In case they are asked to verify that we did our duty.”
Royce winced as the lad gingerly dabbed the blood from his forehead. “And what exactly was your duty?” He could not believe he was seeing Thuringian guards in their royal colors standing shoulder to shoulder with Châlons rebels.
Mayhap he was dead after all, and God had a sense of humor, and this was some particularly bizarre corner of Purgatory.
“Our orders came from Prince Daemon himself,” the older Thuringian guard explained in that bullfrog voice as he came to stand behind Hadwyn. “He said that you were not to live to see sunrise.”
“Some of the guards were less than eager to face your blade after the incident in the forest today, so no one objected when Jarek and I volunteered.” Hadwyn set the cloth aside. “We were ordered to spirit you out of the palace and leave you at the bottom of a cliff, where your body would be found a few days from now. It would look as if you had been drinking, gone for a walk—”
“And met with a tragic accident,” Royce concluded grimly. “Good to know that Daemon’s word of honor is worth as much as it ever was.”
“Landers and Karl arrived three days ago, and told us to keep watch for your arrival,” Jarek said, jowls quivering as he nodded toward his comrades. “Thayne felt you could be valuable to us—though none of us knew your true identity until today, Baron Ferrano.”
“So when did I become valuable?” Royce turned an assessing stare on the dark-haired warrior crouched before him. “I assume it was after you shot me in Gavena?”
The man exhaled a soft sound of amusement and ran his thumb along an old scar on his bearded jaw. “Sir Royce, I believe a formal introduction is long overdue. My name is Thayne. I am a huntsman by trade, but for the last few months, I have been the leader of more than fifty of King Aldric’s loyal subjects, who have unfortunately been branded rebels. For now we are outlaws, but as Karl tried to explain to you in Gavena, our intentions are peaceful.”
“For a peaceful man, you are rather quick with a crossbow,” Royce replied dryly.
Thayne’s lips tightened. “My intent was to disarm you, milord. I merely wished to prevent you from cutting my brother’s throat.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Royce glanced from him to Karl, seeing the resemblance between the two. Though their coloring was different, the features were similar.
As was the crooked grin, he discovered, when Karl spoke. “Thayne never misses, Sir Royce. He could have killed you had he aimed higher. And I did try to convince you that we meant no harm.”
“Aye,” Royce said slowly, still dubious.
“And you were not the only one who lost a bit of blood in Gavena’s marketplace,” Landers reminded him.
Royce turned to regard the sandy-haired rebel whose broad shoulders almost matched the length of the longbow he favored. “It was my duty to keep all of you away from the princess.”
“Indeed, and you are damned fast with a blade,” Landers complained with a glower, rubbing his right thigh, which was still bandaged. After a moment, his mouth curved in a grudging smile. “Had I been the one charged with protecting Her Highness’s life, I only hope I would have been as fierce. It seems King Aldric chose well.”
Before Royce could respond, footsteps echoed from a narrow passage at the end of the cave.
“That will be the ladies,” Thayne said, rising.
“Finally,” Landers muttered, his tone one of relief.
Royce looked toward the cave entrance as a tall, blond woman stepped inside.
Just ahead of Ciara.
“Your Highness,” a chorus of voices said with hushed reverence. Every man in the cave dropped to one knee and bowed—except for Royce, who could not move despite the shock racing through his veins.
Ciara looked quite calm as she walked right into the rebels’ lair. At least until she saw him. Gasping, her gaze on his bruised and bleeding forehead, she rushed past the others to kneel at his side. “Oh, Royce, are you all right?”
He could only choke out a small sound of confusion as she gingerly probed his sore head.
The rebels got to their feet, yet still made no move to harm her. Landers slipped one burly arm around the blond woman’s waist. “Did you have any trouble?”
“None, my love.” She stood on tiptoe to brush a quick kiss over his lips, but her smile faded as she saw Royce’s injury and bound arms. “Thayne, was that necessary?” She turned a frown on the group’s leader.
“Miriam, I told you we might have to—”
“You promised me that this time no blood would be shed. Instead, it would seem you have all been brawling again.”
Royce finally recovered from his astonishment enough to speak. “By nails and blood, what is—”
He never got to finish because Ciara had remained still only long enough to make sure his injury was not serious before she threw her arms around him, without regard for their audience. “Royce, I was so worried, but everything is going to be all right. Miriam explained that the rebels never were trying to kill me—”
“And you simply believed her and left the palace?” Royce choked out. “Ciara...” He would have unwrapped her hands from around his neck if his were not tied behind him. Would have stepped away from her if he were standing.
Since
he had no choice but to submit to her embrace, he closed his eyes and leaned into her, inhaling her scent, reveling in her closeness and the caress of her hair against his cheek.
He heard the sudden, astonished silence fall among the men gathered around them, realized that everyone in the cave had just guessed that his and Ciara’s feelings for each other went deeper than what a princess and her protector were supposed to feel.
But he did not care at the moment. He was too grateful to have her here with him, beyond Daemon’s reach. “Thank God you are all right.” He finally managed to pull back from her. “But how did you get out of the palace? You could not have simply walked out without anyone seeing you—”
“A secret passage, Baron Ferrano.” The blond woman crossed to stand before him and curtsied. “I am sorry we must meet under these trying circumstances, milord. I am Miriam, lady’s maid to Princess Ciara.”
“The decoy,” he rumbled. “The one who told these others where to look for us?”
“Of that I am guilty, milord, but I never meant for any harm to befall milady. Or you.”
Ciara sat back on her heels, heedless of her velvet gown being dampened by the cave floor. “I believe she is telling the truth, Royce. The incident in my father’s solar was not an assassination attempt at all. It was an abduction gone awry.”
“I am sorry you were injured, Your Highness,” Landers said. “I would rather have plunged the blade into my own heart.”
Ciara turned to look at him. “You were the one who...” Her eyes widened in recognition. “It was you!”
He knelt before her, his head bowed, his voice strained. “I offer my deepest apologies, Princess Ciara, and swear to you it was an accident. I only drew the knife hoping to frighten you so you would stay quiet while I tied you up. I beg your forgiveness.”
“And I grant it, sir. I understand now that you had your country’s best interests at heart. And you took a great risk to your own life.”
“Everyone here has taken a great risk for their country, Princess Ciara. Yourself included,” Thayne said, his eyes filled with respect and admiration for her.
“Wait a moment. Will someone please explain all of this to me?” Royce interrupted. “After you untie me.”
Thayne motioned to young Hadwyn, who quickly slit the ropes with a knife. Set free, Royce flexed his fingers and allowed Ciara to help him to his feet, his head still pounding. Touching his temple, he found he was no longer bleeding. He fixed Thayne with a hard stare. “What do you mean it was a failed abduction attempt?”
“We never intended to kill her, milord.”
“As I explained to Her Highness,” Miriam put in, “if that had been our purpose, I could have poisoned her food at any time and spared us all a great deal of danger.”
“Our intent was simply to keep her from Prince Daemon,” Landers said. “To prevent the wedding.”
Royce glanced from one to the other as they spoke, still finding it hard to believe that the rebels were not the traitors and assassins he had believed them to be. “But what about the avalanche? How was that intended to prevent the wedding—except by killing us both?”
“We had naught to do with the avalanche,” Karl said.
“It must have been caused by the weather,” Landers added, “by a spring thaw.”
Royce looked at Ciara, who nodded, as if to remind him that he himself had told her that was a possibility. Frowning, he lifted his gaze to Thayne’s. “So it was purely a coincidence that your men were there when it happened?”
“Only one was there when it started,” the rebel leader corrected. “I had scouts searching for you in all the southern passes. One of them spotted you and left at once to inform his companions that you had been located at last. But by the time the four of them returned to the pass, it was obvious a catastrophe had taken place.”
“And before they could reach you, you escaped,” Landers said. “They claimed you sledded down the hill on your shield. I accused them of making that part up.”
“Nay, it is true.” Ciara glanced at Royce, her eyes bright.
One corner of his mouth curved upward as he remembered that particular adventure... and what had followed that night at the inn.
He hoped he was the only one close enough to notice her blush. She quickly turned to Thayne. “So Sir Bayard had naught to do with what happened?” she asked. “He did not tell you where we were?”
“Nay, Your Highness.” Thayne shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I have heard of Sir Bayard, but he is not involved with our efforts.”
Royce almost sighed in relief and shared a quick smile with Ciara, glad that he had been wrong in suspecting his friend.
“Milord, please tell me that we have convinced you,” Miriam pleaded. “We mean neither of you any harm. What reason do we have to lie to you now?”
“The lady has an excellent point, Baron,” the rebel leader added. “If we wanted either you or Her Highness dead, you would be dead already.”
Royce held Thayne’s steady, green-eyed gaze for a long moment, realizing he could no longer deny the obvious truth. “Very well, so you are not murderers or assassins. But that still leaves one question—what do you want with us?”
“Your help.”
Now it was Royce’s turn to respond with a soft sound of amusement. That was hardly the answer he had expected.
But he was willing to hear more. “How is it you think we can help you?”
“Aye,” Ciara said curiously, her hand lingering on his arm as she turned to regard Thayne. “Miriam said that you would explain the rest. I still do not understand what good it would have done you to abduct me. If I do not marry Daemon, the peace agreement will fail and he might wreak havoc on Châlons again. We have already learned that we cannot defy him.”
“We only wished to keep you from your wedding, Your Highness. To delay your marriage—”
“Long enough to give us time to locate Prince Mathias,” Karl continued. “He is the rightful heir to the throne.”
Royce began to understand their plan. “You intend to persuade Mathias to return and wrest power from his brother.”
“Exactly.”
Royce shook his head. “A fine idea, if he would agree. But Mathias has no interest in ruling.”
“We believe he would change his mind,” Jarek explained, “if he knew what has been happening in Thuringia these past four years. Prince Daemon has brought our country to the brink of ruin in his thirst for power. He has spent so much money on war that his own subjects are starving. The people despise him and long for his brother’s return.”
“We would rather have a priest for a king than a devil,” Hadwyn said flatly.
“But where is Prince Mathias?” Ciara asked. “You said you have all been working together for months. Have you not spoken with him yet?”
Miriam sighed. “Nay, Your Highness. We must find him first.”
“It should be simple enough to dispatch messengers to Rome.” Royce turned toward Hadwyn. “Did you not tell me he went there on pilgrimage?”
“Aye, milord. That is what Prince Daemon told everyone. And Mathias did indeed disappear quite suddenly four years ago, not long after the first peace negotiations ended—”
“But we no longer believe he went on pilgrimage,” Jarek explained. “Some of us in Thuringia have been trying to find him for more than a year, but there has been no trace of him. In Rome or anywhere else.”
Royce felt a chill. “Mathias was the one who initiated those first peace efforts. If Daemon decided he did not want any further trouble from his brother—”
“We do not believe Daemon killed him.”
“You sound certain of that.”
“Hopeful would mayhap be a better term,” Thayne said.
“There is a chance that Mathias is dead,” Jarek admitted, “but even a man like Daemon has his limits. His fears.”
Ciara blinked in amazement. “What does Daemon fear?”
“Death, Your Highness. Daem
on fears for his immortal soul. After all he has done, he is afraid he will be condemned to spend eternity in Hell.”
“You may have noticed that in every town of Châlons he conquered, the churches were spared,” Thayne noted. “He does not want to provoke the wrath of God.”
“And even for a prince, it is one thing to kill enemies, or even peasants, but quite another to kill your own brother—especially a holy man. A man who was about to take priestly vows,” Jarek concluded.
“We believe it is more likely that Daemon let him live,” Hadwyn said, “imprisoned where he would be no more trouble.”
Royce grimaced. “But where? Have you any ideas?”
“Aye,” Thayne said darkly. “We have narrowed our search to the Ruadhan Mountains. One of our Thuringian guards was able to secure that much information, after weeks of secretly eavesdropping on Daemon’s meetings with his most trusted ministers. The man later paid with his life when Daemon came to suspect he was disloyal.”
“And if you think the prince is harsh with his enemies,” Hadwyn murmured, “you would not wish to imagine how he deals with traitors in his own ranks.”
Ciara shivered visibly. Royce had to resist the urge to slip a comforting arm around her.
He glanced at Hadwyn and Jarek, realizing that the two of them were placing their lives in danger every time they set foot in the palace.
“This is madness.” Shaking his head, he turned to Thayne. “The Ruadhans are the most treacherous range in all of Europe. Even if you knew on which mountain Mathias is imprisoned, you could be killed making the ascent when you try to rescue him.”
“Exactly. Which makes it the ideal place to imprison someone, permanently.”
“Which is why we will need the assistance of an expert climber if we are to free him,” Karl added. “You left behind a most interesting array of equipment with your destrier.”
Royce glanced at him. “I do not suppose you could tell me what became of my destrier?” he asked hopefully.
“We left him with one of our people in the town of Vasau,” Landers said.
Royce smiled in relief at the news that Anteros was safe. Then he frowned. “I will want him back.”
Bodyguards Boxed Set Page 69