by Rachel James
Sherwin laughed. “That they do. And Ryce here is one of them.”
Ryce plunked himself next to Sherwin. “I prefer to describe myself as ‘realist.’”
She gazed from Sherwin to Ryce. “You two are quite a pair. You've known each other long?”
“Aye, around eight years, give or take. We met in the king’s service, after Ryce finished his training.”
She squinted as the bright sunlight glared into her face and shifted her position to study the men more closely. Ryce’s whole demeanour puzzled her. He seemed to make a polite effort...but those eyes were withdrawn and skeptical. “So if you do not like the warrior ways, why choose it for a profession?”
Ryce sat straighter. “What makes you think I chose it?”
Teagen faltered. “Did your parents arrange it?”
Ryce scowled and rested his back against a tree.
“You’ll have to forgive my friend here,” Sherwin interjected. “Ryce and I come from remarkably different backgrounds. For me, I wanted to help people, and as my father was a surgeon, becoming a physician to the king was perfectly natural.” He stopped and eyed his friend. “Ryce, on the other hand...”
Restless, Ryce walked over to his horse and released the pigeon from its cage. “’Tis not a job I volunteered for. I was recruited against my wishes, but sometimes sacrifices are necessary to spare those you love.”
Teagen gripped Sherwin tighter as they rode over another bump in the road. Her head throbbed after travelling all day.
“It won’t be long now, m’lady,” Sherwin reassured. “There is a tavern somewhere along here where we can rest for the night.”
True enough, they turned a bend and entered a village. Torches staked into the ground highlighted the dark commune and flickered in the wind.
Teagen caught her breath as a rush of nerves filled her. I’ve been here before.
“Where are we?” she whispered to Sherwin, glad of his closeness.
“The Old Capital, Elmetia.”
Teagen gasped.
Sherwin jumped off first and helped Teagen down from the horse. “Don’t worry about this lot.” He gestured toward the tavern folk. “They’re loud, but they won’t hurt you.”
Teagen forced a polite smile, but her eyes did not avoid returning to the boisterous crowd which spilled out of the tavern and into the dirt street. One of them had a well-rounded woman perched on his lap. She didn’t seem at all mindful of the cold night air in her low-cut dress revealing a curvaceous figure.
“Come, let’s get us a decent meal, shall we?”
The tavern was not large, and the smoke from the fire made the room almost uncomfortable, but nobody else seemed to notice the distasteful stench of unwashed bodies in such close proximity. Two slave girls cleared empty goblets and refilled jugs. One man sitting nearby gave the girl a tap on the bottom, which was rewarded by a harsh slap to his face.
“M’lady?” Sherwin put his arms around her shoulders and guided her to the table. He helped her into a wooden seat and then sat next to her. “So, what’s your food of choice? I don’t think they’ve much to offer, but we might be able to get you some stew, or perchance fish and eggs?”
“Anything will be fine, thank you.”
“What, no preference?”
“Ox stew then.”
“Interesting... You know what they say about beef eaters, don’t you?”
She sucked in her breath. “Nay, pray tell.”
“They act first and think anon, and hold on to freedom above all else.”
“You’re jesting.”
“He’s not,” said Ryce. “He declares he can tell a person by their choice of food.”
She looked to Ryce. “Very well, what’s that make you?”
“I’m a good judge of character.”
Sherwin quirked his eyebrow and shot his friend a stern glance. “Well, it’s not an exact science.”
She laughed nervously. “I get the general idea, thank you.” Her stomach growled a bit too loudly. When was the last time she had eaten? It must have been over a day ago.
Sherwin soon returned with three plates. “The gods have smiled upon us.”
He handed an enormous bowl of beef stew to her while balancing two wooden plates of meat, fish, eggs, and bread in his other hand. She accepted the food eagerly.
Both men quickly downed their meals and moved on to their jugs of mead. Sherwin and Ryce turned in the opposite direction and delved deep in conversation.
Frustrated, Teagen scanned the ill-kept inn. Nowhere to hide and listen to their conversation without appearing suspicious. And sitting here in this tavern played havoc with her emotions.
The smoke in the room overwhelmed her, and her head spun once more. She pushed back her chair, “Would you excuse me, good men? I find myself in need of fresh air.” Why didn’t Shieldoks understand how to ventilate a room properly? Sherwin glanced up distractedly and nodded. Clearly the two of them had significant business to discuss.
The cool air was a tonic. Her breathing gradually slowed. She walked up the hill, guided by the staked torches. She could see the whole village from the top.
She perched on the roots of a large oak tree, nestled back, peering down at her old kingdom. How things had changed. New thatched buildings had been erected, but not round huts, much like it used to be. Now they were rectangular, some even two stories high. The tavern stood in place of the old church, which had been burned to the ground during the invasion.
Teagen perched, heart pounding. Nerves knotted in her abdomen. She glanced around the village. People spilled out of the tavern, drunken and boisterous, but there was no joyous music that accompanied their form of dance. Anger surged as the painful memories flooded back.
I am a princess. Not a slave.
She could not lose hope. She had to find Niall, and reclaim what had been taken from her. Elmetia would rally again.
“Ryce, what have you done?”
“My duty.”
Sherwin flung his arms in the air, mead spilling out of his goblet and across the table. “To whom? Kenric?”
Ryce tugged on his friend’s tunic, forcing him back to his seat. “Keep it down. We don’t want a scene.” He understood Sherwin had the right to be upset. He’d kept him in the dark, fearful Sherwin would warn the girl...and she was not whom she seemed. “Listen, Kenric will be here shortly. He can explain.”
Sherwin shook his head. “You know how they treat criminal women. It’s inhumane.”
“I merely performed my duty and informed Kenric of the facts. I leave the luxury of exercising judgment to the king.”
“The king? Couldn’t this be kept locally? Surely Kenric can pass sentence.”
The tavern door blew wide open, and Ryce jumped to his feet. “Lord Kenric, sir.”
Kenric motioned for him to sit. “I’m aware this may seem a little unconventional, but you must trust me. We need to get this woman to Cynehofa immediately. She is a threat and cannot be trusted.” He gazed around the tavern. “Now, where is she?”
Chapter Three
Teagen stumbled back from her position on the hill. Kenric had come after her. Had she been foolish to trust Ryce? She had to run. She sprinted into the trees so fast her side throbbed, and her lungs burned in agony.
Breathless, she stopped and propped her arm on a tree to still the dizziness.
God have mercy on me.
She inhaled deeply and started again with renewed vigour, finally reaching the road she’d journeyed on earlier that eventide. The sun’s absence made it difficult to get her bearings. She must rely on instinct alone.
Thunder and lightning penetrated the blue-black skies, and rain soon followed. Gentle droplets at first turned rapidly into hard pellets like tiny arrows shooting at her. Teagen groaned to herself. Was God angry with her? She should not have stolen the dagger. Or the horse. And mayhap disguising her identity was a mistake, but surely withholding part of the truth did not constitute the same as lying.
The ground became soggy and muddy, and her fine tunic was now spoiled. Deep regret filled her. She’d never stolen anything in her life before two days ago. Perchance her place was in Dyrah.
Nay.
She was doing the right thing by finding her brother. Things might not be going as she had hoped, but God would not let her down. She had to stay focused on Him.
She tripped suddenly as her dress caught on a thistle bush. This would never do. She grabbed her skirt and ripped it with her teeth. No time for propriety. Survival was all that mattered.
Now free, she could run without limitation.
“She’s disappeared.”
Ryce had searched the tavern, the outhouse, and even the surrounding village buildings. It was his fault. He’d noticed her leave but didn’t think she’d venture far. Of course, that was before he knew her true identity.
Kenric waited impatiently, hovering underneath the canopy. “Well, she cannot have gone far. I presume she is on foot. Any reports of stolen horses?”
Ryce shook his head.
“We must split to cover the entire area. Sherwin, you take the west. Ryce, venture east. My men at arms will escort you. I’ll remain here should she return. We will converge again at Cynehofa on the morrow. Understood?”
Ryce eyed Kenric with hesitation. “Aye, m’lord.”
“Do you have something else to say, Ryce?”
He clenched his fists behind his back. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, m’lord, only I wonder if this hunt on the woman is a little extreme.”
“How so?”
His stomach hardened. Did Kenric think him daft? “She’s a mere slave, and chasing her is delaying our mission to Lyndisea.”
“I’m glad the Lady Edrys didn’t hear you. She is most upset her personal attendant betrayed her.”
“Of course. Beg your pardon, m’lord.”
“Good. Now make haste. The sooner you find the wench, the quicker you can get on with the mission.”
Ryce scrubbed a hand over his face. The rainwater clung to his brow. He nodded to Sherwin, mounted his horse, and headed due east with two of Kenric’s soldiers. It was pure foolishness looking for the girl at this hour. Clearly Kenric had a personal vendetta. Mayhap Sherwin was right. What harm could come with concealing the woman from Kenric? Likely not much.
He held the reins with one hand and carried a torch with his other. The rain made it difficult to roam the countryside, and his stallion proved uncooperative amidst the thunder and lightning. They kept to the road. He didn’t want to be too near if a tree caught aflame.
The three men travelled well into the night but to no avail. By now the storm had settled, and the rain had subdued itself to a slight drizzle.
Curse the stupid woman. If it weren’t for her, he’d be tucked snug in his bedroll, getting a decent night’s sleep. If they had never rescued her, they’d be in Lyndisea by now, sealing the deal of his final mission.
He halted momentarily, rubbed his eyes, and took a swig of his drink. A sudden flash of blue alerted him, then disappeared.
“Did you see that?”
Kenric’s men stopped beside him. “Aye, over by the ridge.”
Ryce yanked on his reins and galloped toward the trees. He sped after the dancing blue. He drew closer when it became apparent the blue belonged to her cloak. “Hilda!”
She looked around for a split second before turning back and running.
“Hilda! Give up. We know who you are. It is of no use.”
She ignored him and continued to run, jumping over tree stumps and ducking fallen branches. Even with his horse, her quickness prevented him from capturing her.
One of the soldiers pulled his bow from behind his back.
“Nay, we can get her.” Ryce galloped further, weaving in and out of the thick trees. “Hilda, you need to stop.” He almost had her.
His horse missed a footing and stumbled forward, tumbling to the ground. Ryce managed to free his legs before being crushed by the scared animal. He scrambled up to chase her on foot, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Had she escaped?
Behind him, he glimpsed the soldier with a bow in his hand.
“What did you do? I told you not to release!” Ryce yelled. He ran to where he’d last seen her.
She lay on the earth, motionless, with an arrow in her back.
Scooping her up, he remounted his horse and cradled her in his lap. The arrow remained in her shoulder.
He needed to get her out of this rain. He spotted shelter a short distance away and headed toward a rock crevice in part of the valley wall.
“See to the horses,” he commanded the soldiers, his voice terse with annoyance as he lowered her to the ground and laid her on her side.
He cast her a quick glance. Her pale face, streaked with tears, displayed immense pain. He needed to make a fire. He found some dry flint rocks and used them to gain a spark.
“You shot me.”
Ryce pressed his lips together. She truly believed he’d injured her, yet he had directly ordered Kenric’s men to hold off.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around to inspect her wound. “I need to remove the arrow. This will hurt, I’m afraid.”
He ripped away part of her dress and placed one hand on her back, the other on the arrow. Where is Sherwin when I need him?
She squealed as he pulled the blade from her body. “I’m going to cauterise the wound now to stop the bleeding.”
He retrieved the wineskin he’d purchased from the tavern that eventide from his saddle bag, and put it to her lips. “Here, drink some. This will help with the pain.”
He removed his dagger that he’d heated in the fire and held her shoulders firm with one arm. “Now hold still.”
He placed the scorching blade upon her wound, the stench of burning flesh evoking a queasiness within his gut. He held her close to him as her body went limp.
Teagen opened her eyes and let out a soft moan. The pain in her head throbbed, but her shoulder was unbearable. A small fire crackled in front of her at the opening of the crevice entrance. Rain shot down hard, and the wind had picked up, sending an eerie howl around her confined quarters.
“You’ve been out a while.”
She scanned the area. On the other side of the cave sat her captor. Her side had gone numb, and she attempted to shift herself to find relief, and another shooting pain pierced her side.
“Here, let me help you.” Ryce jumped up and carefully turned her on her other side.
She gritted her teeth as she tried to ignore the pungent smell of her own burned flesh. “I must admit, you leave me a little confused.”
Ryce rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye, how so?”
“One moment you save me, the next you chase me.”
“To be fair, you’ve not been honest, pretending to be a lady when you’re naught more than a lying thief.”
Teagen squinted her eyes. “Pray tell me who told you that? You hunt me before you possess all the facts.”
“I don’t need to know them. I simply follow orders.”
“And what kind of person does it make you? A pawn in another man’s business? You risked killing me not knowing whether I am innocent or guilty.”
Ryce leaned closer. “So why did you run if not a villain?”
“Perchance I was scared I’d not be given a fair trial.”
He sat back, watching her from his corner, judging her, no doubt. She had little hope here. She lowered her head. “If you hand me over to the king, he’ll kill me.”
“Look, woman, you committed a crime, and you’ll pay. I’m naught but the errand boy.”
“Don’t you wish to discern why? Don’t you care?”
“In my line of work, it’s best not to apprehend the whys and the hows, or they’ll come back and haunt you anon.”
She stared at the ceiling. “You mean remain ignorant and not endure guilt.”
“Eh, I’m not the king. I work for hi
m, ’tis all. If I do as I’m told, he mayhap leave me be. I don’t ask questions.”
“I understand the concept of following orders, but to follow rules for the sake of them—”
“With respect, you’re not in the position to be chastising me here.”
Teagen huffed in frustration and looked up at the rocky ceiling. What was the use? The man clearly did not possess a conscience.
Another gust of wind shot through the entrance, and Teagen shuddered with cold. How had she arrived in this mess? She always seemed to be landing into trouble.
She winced again as her shoulder throbbed. Getting sleep tonight might prove to be difficult. Losing herself in her thoughts, she barely noticed Ryce fetch a blanket for her. Well, it wouldn’t matter if she slept or not. On the morrow, she would be meeting the savage Dyrahn king. No doubt reuniting with her parents sooner than she had once imagined.
Ryce retrieved a rope from his saddlebag and, mindful of her pain, carefully bound Hilda’s wrists to the front of her. She uttered no protest. Her feistiness from the night before now lapsed. Had she given up?
He was sorry he had to do this. Despite what she might think, he was not a savage who took pleasure in seeing other people’s pain. He simply had a job to do, but this lady did not make it any easier for him.
He placed her on the horse first, then slid on behind her—the easiest way with her hands bound. If his closeness brought her discomfort, she didn’t show it. But then, he struggled to read her emotions. Overnight she’d built a wall around herself.
“So, you’re a slave?”
“What does it matter?”
“A great deal—to me at least. I don’t take kindly to being lied to.”
She sighed deeply. “I never spoke untruthfully. I am a slave in Kenric’s household, but I do work for Lady Edrys. Everything I told you holds true.”
“Where are you from? Originally?”
“Elmetia.”
It made sense. He was at the raid on Elmetia eight years ago. ’Twas his first lead mission. Hundreds were slaughtered. He pictured their faces and heard their screams. She must have only been a girl when captured. At least she would have been spared the horrors some of the women had endured.