Red Rider Redemption (The Red Rider Saga Book 3)

by D. A. Randall

  And knew they were next on my list.

  “Thirty-three wolves invading a barn?” the ambassador asked, his voice rising. “That sounds like quite a dangerous problem, Duke Laurent.”

  “More dangerous than you know,” I said evenly. “But nothing we can’t handle here. Although the Queen should probably be alerted to the dangers we face in La Rue Sauvage. Someone should tell her how –.”

  I suddenly noticed that Simonet stood close to the wall. Without a word, he opened a side door and disappeared into the next room. He had moved so quietly, so steadily, I never spotted him until it was too late. It didn’t matter, as long as the other men still entertained the ambassador.

  “He’s alerting my guards, Helena,” Laurent said, his voice like soothing oil. “You might wish to surrender before they come. It will go better for you, I promise.”

  “You promise?” I snarled. “The same way you promised my father you would ask for more soldiers to protect us from the wolves? The way you promised to honor Francois with your banquet, where you got him drunk to attack him in his home?”

  The ambassador’s eyes slid toward Laurent.

  “Go ahead and summon your guards,” I challenged. “I’ll still end your malicious life before they can stop me. If they send me to prison, even if they hang me for treason, it will be worth it to rid our province of you.”

  The ambassador relaxed, then narrowed his gaze on Laurent. “She is making rather bold accusations against you, Monsieur.”

  Laurent smiled and shook his head, waving me off. “She is unfortunately delusional. She lost her parents and her younger sister and blames me, or anyone else she can start a fight with.”

  “Liar!” I exploded. “You killed my parents and Suzette and Francois! But you won’t kill anyone else! I’ll …” I felt a sudden dizziness. I blinked and shook my head. I was staring at the floor.

  I lifted my head, tried to raise my crossbow. “… I’ll …” My head drooped heavily again.

  Lieutenant-General Sharrad now stood over me and easily tugged the crossbow from my hands.

  “Just relax, Helena. Let us help you to the door,” Laurent said, sounding far away. Across the room, his image blurred like a reflection in the water. He turned back to the ambassador as I struggled to focus on his face, his voice. Anything. “As I said, Monsieur, she is quite ill. I have tried to help her in every way I can, but she refuses to let anyone near her.” He started toward me, his figure shifting like a long shadow. “Calm down, Helena. We only want to help you.”

  I felt like a drunkard, hunched over, struggling to stand upright. Laurent seized my arm and guided me to the door. “I’ll only be a moment, Monsieur,” he called over his shoulder.

  “My musketeers can assist you at the gate, Monsieur,” the ambassador replied. “Know that they will report back to me on everything they witness tonight.”

  “Of course, Monsieur. We’ve nothing to hide,” Laurent said.

  He led me through the broad doors with Lieutenant-General Sharrad and Brocard, who closed the double doors behind us. The doors made an odd reverberating thud. The bright light of the high lanterns stung my eyes, though they had not bothered me before.

  Duke Laurent continued down the hall toward the parlor entrance, leading me like a puppy on a leash. “You are trying my patience, Helena,” he hissed in my ear, tightening his grip on my arm. My nerves grew numb, barely feeling the pain. “I don’t know how you escaped, but in a week’s time, it will no longer matter. I’ll be able to dispose of you any way I see fit, or make you suffer any way I choose. In a dungeon, in an asylum, on the gallows for everyone to see. But tonight you are interrupting.”

  “What did – What did you – do to me?”

  He chuckled. “What I hoped to do later tonight, before we fed on you. That will have to wait. I would love to lock you away here, to torment you through the night and then feast on what’s left of you. However, that would arouse the musketeers’ suspicions.” He laughed again, the guttural wolf sound creeping into his voice. “Not to worry, Helena. You’ve done us a great deal of harm these last two months, especially tonight. But you’ll pay dearly for it, I assure you. As of this moment, your body and soul belong to me!”

  He continued to speak, continued to dig his fingers into my arm, as we clomped quietly over a smooth path. A cool breeze tickled my cheeks and I lifted my head. We now stood at the iron gate, fifty feet from the chateau’s front doors. The royal ambassador’s guards stared at us, astounded. How had we even gotten here?

  “It’s all right, gentlemen,” Laurent told them. “She’s quite clever but otherwise harmless. She’s leaving now. Sharrad. Her crossbow.”

  I blinked, struggling to focus, as I watched my crossbow sail beyond the open gate to skitter across the outer stone path. I heard the fast gallop of an approaching horse. I turned to see Crimson rushing toward us as the guards raised their muskets.

  “Don’t bother shooting it,” Laurent told them. “It’s her ride.”

  Crimson came to a halt at the gate and stamped his hooves at Laurent, his eyes blazing.

  “Now limp on home, Helena,” Laurent said, sounding smug. “Wherever your home is in the woods.”

  Brocard’s voice rose in alarm. “You’re giving back her weapon?”

  “What can she do with it? Poor deluded girl. Look at her. By morning, she won’t even be able to stand up.”

  He was right. My head felt like it had been stuffed with wool, my legs like they were made of straw. I doubled over, my gut burning. “What did – you do?”

  Laurent walked in front of me to block the guards’ view. He bent his leering face close to mine and seized the back of my neck, his fingers clamping hard, his voice a harsh whisper. “Remember, Helena? I have something of yours. Something personal and precious. And I’ll treasure it always.” He patted the side pocket of his waistcoat. He forced my head up and I found Sharrad and Brocard now smiling openly, reveling in some dark secret.

  Laurent’s own blurring smile hardened like a gargoyle’s. “In fact, we already put it to good use before your intrusion. We intended to have it prepared for our return to the barn tonight. But this will certainly suffice. From now on, Mademoiselle, wherever you go, wherever you try to hide, I’ll find you. And I’ll hurt you.” He flashed wolfish teeth. “As much as I want. As badly as I want. And as long as I want. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  He moved his hand to my back and guided me out the front gate. Crimson charged at him in a rage. His motions distorted in my vision, so that he looked like several horses at once. Duke Laurent released me and I fell to my knees on the hard path.

  They waited in silence as I crawled toward my crossbow. I drew it close, and it scraped across the stone path like a mosquito buzzing in my ear. I clutched it to my chest, then slung it over my shoulder and struggled to my feet. Struggled to find Crimson’s flank and saddle, to pull myself up and rest on his flank. I lay against him for some time. I didn’t know how long. Then I grabbed hold of the horn and hoisted myself up. I barely managed to throw my stomach on top of his back. I rested another moment, then forced myself to sit up in the saddle as the world of stone and grass and trees spun before my eyes.

  “Farewell, Helena,” Laurent called.

  I stared straight ahead. Had I tried to look back at Laurent, I might have fallen off the saddle.

  Crimson carried me at a slow trot, back the way we had come. Back to the forest, back to Father Vestille’s hovel. As slow as he moved, it felt like I was lying belly-first on a storm-tossed raft. I leaned against his neck, trying to rest comfortably against his dark mane, and held on. We left the lights of Chateau de Laurent behind us as the night and the forest swallowed us up.

  Wolves howled in the distance. Somewhere ahead of us, the Lycanthru still searched for me, seeking revenge. And I could barely lift my head.

  2.

  Crimson carried me through the cool night, past dark pine trees that loomed like monstrous shadows. P
ast unseen crickets and snapping twigs and croaking frogs that hammered my senses. I had traveled these woods since I was nine years old, but now every sound and tickle of the wind unnerved me, as though they might destroy me from the inside out. I jerked at each new sensation, frightened at first, before I remembered what it indicated. A harmless insect, a rustling leaf, a change in the wind. I gasped for breath and clutched Crimson’s mane, hugging his neck. What had Laurent done to me?

  A wolf howled. The sound rattled my jaw and my spine.

  It sounded close.

  They would find me soon.

  Crimson froze. I waited, resting against him, feeling for the crossbow that hung from my shoulder. The wolf howled again, farther off. They were moving away from us. Crimson waited for me, giving them time. Then I nudged him gently and he trotted on.

  I blinked hard, trying to focus. We were safe for a few more seconds, but they would find us soon enough. It was only a matter of time. I had challenged the wolves and lost, too weak to defend myself. And Duke Laurent still lived, still planned to ravage the people of La Rue Sauvage. What had I truly accomplished? After all my struggle and effort, had it all been a waste? Could I have done anything to avoid it? Chosen a simpler, safer life, all those years ago?

  Could I have ever become what my mother hoped I would be?

  The sunlight had sparkled between the leaves of the trees blooming overhead, high above me and Papa. Birds had chirped throughout the cool forest laced with mountain fog, having fully woken with the rising sun over the last couple of hours. I had breathed in the pine and chestnut aroma, enjoyed the warm hints of sunlight on my skin, felt my biceps tense with strength even as I rode leisurely homeward on Crimson.

  It had been a perfect morning. I had never felt better. Happier. Stronger.

  “Your mother should be pleased with this kill,” Papa said, the pride evident in his voice as he cantered ahead of me on his black horse, Royale.

  I shrugged. “Just another day’s hunt.”

  “Oh, come now, Helena,” he laughed over his shoulder, teeth flashing beneath his dark moustache. “You don’t fool me. You’re practically dancing in your saddle.”

  I bit my lip. Perhaps so.

  “And you ought to!” he said. “You should see the burning faces of the men in the village when I tell them how many animals you’ve hunted for us. That my eleven-year old daughter puts all of their skills to shame. And now this? After I report this one, they won’t speak to me again for a week!”

  I glanced down at the ten-tine buck that Royale dragged, its majestic carcass shoving piles of dirt and twigs aside in its wake. My heart swelled. It was my twelfth deer, and a magnificent prize. I knew it as well as Papa, and neither of us could hide our delight. “Well,” I said. “Sorry I keep shaming them.”

  Papa laughed again. It was so refreshing to hear his warm laugh. Over the last eighteen months, these early morning hunts had become the best part of my day, and of my life. No more sheltering inside our cottage, terrified that a wolf might slash me again. No more worrying about how to defend myself against Jacque Denue and his bullying friends in the village, if they tried to beat on me again for my scarred face. No more chains of fear or weakness or sorrow. Just me and Papa, riding together and hunting and growing stronger every day. It was everything I had ever wanted, without even knowing it, and it was now mine.

  I had already loaded another bolt in Papa’s crossbow, held over from the war. Doing so required me to loop its front strap over my toe and pull up on it hard enough to lock the bolt into place. There was no need to load it now that our hunt was over, except to prepare for any unseen dangers in the forest. Yet part of me wanted to arm it to remind myself that I could. It took strength, more strength than I could have imagined having when I joined Papa on our first hunt over a year ago. Strength I now possessed.

  We exited the forest, the sunlight flooding the meadow outside our cottage. Papa’s sheep bleated as our sheep dog, Valiant, barked from his place beside their pen and ran to greet us. I smiled, imagining Mama’s fried bacon and lamb chops and eggs and bread, as though I could smell the breakfast already.

  Yet Mama sat on the front porch, quietly sewing something on her lap. She looked like a portrait of the perfect wife, wrapped in beauty and contentment. Her auburn hair up in a thick bun with ringlets framing her soft round cheeks. The shoulders of her dress rising in perfect curves of periwinkle blue. As though nothing could interrupt her peace or mar her beauty. And whatever she finished sewing would be as beautiful as she was.

  I shoved aside my disappointment over breakfast. Mama had grown more tired in recent days and didn’t always cook the way she used to. Nor should I expect her to. Besides, we had brought breakfast home with us. Not to mention lunch and dinner to cure for the next few days. I grinned, anticipating the taste of freshly cooked venison.

  I urged Crimson forward at a trot, eager to show her my prize kill. Papa and I dismounted quickly, untying the deer and heaving it up onto the oak carving table. Mama wrinkled her nose as the buck’s antlers cracked against the tabletop. “A good hunt?” she asked.

  I spread my hands toward the enormous deer, displaying the obvious. Mama didn’t know as much about hunting as Papa, but she knew a fine steer when she saw one. Yet for some reason, she didn’t seem interested, let alone impressed.

  “Come inside and wash up,” Mama said, rising and gathering up her sewing as she straightened the folds of her dress. “Your father can clean the deer.” Papa protested at first, but Mama said, “I want a few moments to speak with Helena.”

  Mama rarely dared to interrupt Papa, but he grabbed the cleaver that had been knocked off the table by the deer’s carcass, wiped it on his tunic, and started carving. He must have already known what Mama wished to discuss with me. Not that it mattered. Nothing could ruin this perfect morning.

  Mama clutched her ribs and winced as she stepped into the house. I followed her inside and shut the door behind us. I secured it with the heavy oak latch as we always did, even though Papa was still outside with Valiant and the horses. We would let him in later after he knocked.

  Mama set her half-finished sewing project on the end table beside her wooden rocking chair, then settled into its cushion, moving even slower than Grand’Mere Marie ever had. She motioned me to sit beside her with a tired smile. I pulled up a stool from our table.

  “What is it, Mama? Is something wrong?”

  Her eyes clouded over. “I’m concerned for you, dear. All this hunting. All these visits to the woods. Aren’t there any other things you wish to do?”

  “I still finish all of my chores. I’ve helped you more than ever, with the washing and sweeping and carving meat. I even tried to help with some cooking, but – well, we know how that turned out.”

  “Yes, I know you have, Helena. You’re doing more than enough to help.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap. She tugged at her fingers. “But don’t you wish to spend time with other children in the village? Other girls your age?”

  I felt an angry pang in my stomach. “So they can stare at my face?”

  She swallowed, forcing herself to hold my gaze. “They don’t all stare, do they, dear?”

  I kept quiet, but felt myself shudder. I no longer feared the boys in the village. But I didn’t want to think about Jacque Denue and his brainless friends, or anyone else. “I don’t know. We hardly visit the village anymore.”

  She gave a half-nod. “True. Though we’ve gone more often this year than last. Now that your father feels that you’re – better able to protect yourself.” She pursed her lips.

  I searched her face, trying to read her concern. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

  “I met the Verdantes in town, while we were there last month. Their daughter seems nice. Perhaps you could spend some time with her, now that –.”

  I burst into laughter. “Celia Verdante? That vain, empty-headed –?”

  Mama stared at me in silence. She was not laughing.

  I lowered my
gaze and folded my hands. “I mean – I’m not sure what we would have in common.”

  She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Perhaps you haven’t given her a chance. You might have more in common than you think.”

  “Mama. She’s the most beautiful girl in the entire village. Her family’s well-off. Every boy in town wants to ogle her, and they want to beat me. What could she and I possibly have in common?”

  Mama wrinkled her brow, looking defeated. “Well, there must be other girls you could spend time with. Or perhaps boys.”

  “I just told you, the boys in town want to beat me.” I heard my voice rising, felt myself stand to my feet. “But the next time they try it, I’ll knock them flat.”

  She gaped up at me. “Helena. I’m so frightened for your future.”

  I blew out angry breaths. “Why? What are you worried about?”

  She looked on me with a strange mixture of pity and fear. “I’m worried about what you are becoming.”

  “I’m becoming strong,” I seethed. “I’m becoming brave, and able to handle myself. That’s all.”

  She shook her head. “But that’s not all there is. There’s more for you, Helena. So much more. We’ve – We’ve had such hard times, I know. I didn’t want you to go hunting with your father, but you were so insistent. And I understand. I understand you needed to do this. But there’s so much you don’t know. About all that you can have and all that you can be. I want you to be happy.”

  “Then why are you worried about my hunting? I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I don’t have to be scared anymore. I can fight. I can hunt. I can protect myself. That’s all that matters.”

  “There’s more to life than protecting yourself, Helena. Life is not a war. There are times of peace and joy and simply enjoying time together.”

  “Not for me, there isn’t!” I shot back. I felt as though my gut would explode with rage.

  “Why do you think that? Why do you need to do all this?”

  “Because there are no more heroes, Mama!” I burst. “No soldiers are coming to save us. Duke Laurent can’t get anyone to listen. The King doesn’t care about our little province. It’s up to us. To fight, or die. We’re the only soldiers we have.”