Lisa Jackson_Medieval Trilogy 01

by Impostress

  That warning spurred Kiera to the pale animal. “What were you doing out here?”

  “Saving you,” Elyn snapped as her horse minced and danced nervously. “What were you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dressed as a pauper—don’t tell me, it was that stupid horse. You stole Obsidian again, didn’t you?” She glanced around the night-shrouded glen. “And where is he? Where’s the damned steed?”

  “Lost,” Kiera admitted miserably.

  “Lost? How do you lose a prized stallion?”

  “He threw me.”

  “Oh, wonderful. Father will flail you within an inch of your life.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Kiera sighed. She knew her punishment would be severe. Even if the steed was found unharmed.

  “How did you get him out of the stable? Orson would never … oh, don’t tell me. Joseph helped you, didn’t he?” She sighed audibly. “Foolish boy,” she muttered under her breath, then, with a glance at Kiera, said, “Come on. There’s nothing more to do. No time to waste. Let’s go!” Elyn slapped the reins of the outlaw’s horse into Kiera’s frigid fingers while trying to control her edgy mare.

  “Did you shoot him? The outlaw, I mean?” Kiera asked, eyeing the bow and quiver slung over Elyn’s back. Her sister didn’t immediately answer, but ’twas folly to think anything else. They were alone in the forest. Alone with a cruel man who could be a rapist or worse. She shuddered.

  “Of course I shot him,” Elyn finally admitted, her words clipped with anger. “There was naught else to do. The bastard. Holy Mother …” She caught herself and turned to her sister. “Now, Kiera, either you ride with me or I’ll leave you here.”

  “What about … ?”

  “The outlaw?”

  “Aye.”

  “I think he can damned well rot in hell.”

  “ ‘Twould be too good for him.” Despite her useless arm and the fact that her skin crawled at being anywhere close to the vile outlaw, Kiera managed to climb upon his tall steed. As soon as Kiera was astride, Elyn kicked her mount. The jennet bolted, running fast as the wind, swift dark legs eating up the wet ground. Kiera followed after, clinging to the saddle’s pommel and feeling the spray of mud as her own horse splashed through the puddles and bogs on this crooked path. She only prayed the horrid man who had attacked her didn’t awaken and call to his horse. This stallion might heed his master’s call and turn round.

  Kiera shuddered at the thought. But the truth of the matter was that some animals obeyed better than that miserable beast Obsidian. She felt a pang of regret at the thought of the horse she loved so dearly. Biting her lip, she silently prayed that her father’s stallion wasn’t hurt and would somehow return to Lawenydd unscathed.

  The path angled sharply and the forest gave way to the wide fields surrounding the castle. Elyn drew her horse to a stop, waiting for Kiera at the edge of the woods. Moonlight gave the wheat stubble a silvery sheen. Far in the distance, rising on a cliff overlooking the sea, Lawenydd stood, six square towers seeming to disappear in the inky sky.

  Kiera tugged on the reins, forcing her mount to slow. The big horse responded, tossing his yellowish head and breathing hard.

  Elyn was glowering at her. “Father will kill us both,” she said, her features, so similar to Kiera’s own, pulled into a dark scowl. Nearly sixteen, Elyn was the eldest by a year and a half. Kiera was next. Four years later Penelope had been born.

  “You saved my life,” Kiera said, not worried about their father’s anger. Llwyd of Lawenydd was a blustery man who adored his wayward daughters and would punish them, yes, but in the end forgive them. But Elyn had truly delivered Kiera from a terrifying fate. At the thought of her attacker, Kiera trembled. Had not her sister arrived when she had, if her aim had not been true …

  Elyn threw her a hard look. “You were foolish.”

  “Yes, I know, but I owe you my life.”

  “ ‘Twas fortunate that I was there.”

  “Aye.” Kiera studied her sister’s frown. “What were you doing in the forest?”

  Elyn hesitated, as if searching for the answer. “Looking for you. ‘Twas lucky I found you. As for Obsidian, let’s hope he’s smart enough to return to the castle.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Kiera said, glancing at her sister. “I—I want you to have this,” she added in a rush as she yanked the necklace from around her neck. Pain surged through her, but she ignored it. Urging her horse forward, she dropped the crucifix into her sister’s hand. “Please, take it, and know that to repay you, I’ll do anything you ever ask.”

  “But Mother gave this to you. Before she died.”

  “ ‘Tis yours now.”

  “Hush. This is silly. Kiera, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, yes, I do. Please, Elyn. I … I’m indebted to you for life,” Kiera insisted, overwhelmed. “And … and whenever you wish the debt repaid, just give the necklace back to me and I’ll remember this vow. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Anything?” Elyn asked, shaking her head as if Kiera was talking nonsense.

  “I mean it. Whatever you ask me to do, I’ll do it, Elyn. You saved my life. Of that I have no doubt. None. Now, please, take this and remember to ask me to return the favor. Please.” She pressed the crucifix with its fine gold chain into her sister’s gloved palm.

  “Mayhap I should have my punishment from Father laid upon you,” Elyn said, and for the first time Kiera saw a flash of a white—a bit of a smile—upon her sister’s face.

  “Yes!” Kiera lifted her chin proudly. “Ask him.”

  Elyn laughed a little, though the sound that rippled over the moonlit fields sounded hollow. “Nay. You’ll suffer enough at his hand. I’ll save calling in your debt for later, when I need a favor. Now, come on, we’re already in trouble. Let’s not make it any worse.”

  “What will happen to …” Kiera nodded toward the woods.

  “The man who attacked you? And Obsidian?” With a sigh, Elyn blew a strand of hair from her eyes. “Any form of torture would be too good for the outlaw and we should let him rot and die, but I suppose we’ll have to tell Father the truth. All of it. The horse will have to be found and the thug attended to before being imprisoned.

  “ ‘Twould be a blessing if he were to be caught and left forgotten in a dungeon, would it not?” Elyn said, then glanced sadly up at the sky. “A blessing.”

  “Yes.” Kiera shuddered. “I hope I never see him again.”

  “Me, too,” Elyn said vehemently, in anger—or pain? She spurred her horse and the bay whirled, then shot forward across the silvery fields. “Me, too.”

  Chapter One

  Castle Lawenydd

  Winter 1286

  “You can’t be serious.” Kiera was dumbstruck at her sister’s request. “Have you gone daft?”

  They were walking swiftly through the outer bailey, past the squealing pigs and bleating sheep. Wintry sunlight pierced through a thin veil of high clouds, and the smell of the sea gave a briny tinge to the odors of cook fires, burning tallow, and dung from the stables.

  “You can’t expect me to stand in for you … to pretend that I’m you and take your wedding vows!”

  “Shh,” Elyn whispered harshly as they slipped through the gates to the inner bailey, where displayed upon the chapel, the bans announcing Elyn’s marriage to Baron Kelan of Penbrooke caught in the winter breeze. “Did you not promise to do anything I asked when I saved your life?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And when I tried to talk you out of it, did you not insist?” She pulled Kiera around the comer of the carter’s hut to a path between the garden and a wagon with a broken wheel. The spokes had splintered, and the wagon bed was tipped as it rested on its axle.

  “Aye.” Kiera nodded. “But this is madness! I cannot marry a man promised to you.”

  “You’re not marrying him,” Elyn insisted, her full lips pulled into a knot of concentration. Her eyes, a shade of green identical to Kiera
’s, pleaded. “You’re just taking the vows for me. You know as well as I do that what is important in this marriage is not me, but my name and position as firstborn.” Elyn sighed. “If only the estate were not entailed upon me because we have no brother to be the heir. It’s not fair. Father has just sold me to gain access to the river that runs through Penbrooke to further trade.”

  “And you expect no one to tell the difference?”

  “The chapel is poorly lit, and my veil is heavy enough that your face will be indistinct. You will whisper the vows and you will be dressed in my wedding dress.”

  Kiera laughed nervously. “But the guests—”

  “ ‘Tis a small ceremony,” Elyn insisted. “And rushed! So rushed. Because the groom’s mother ails, I am to wed so that I may hurry back to Penbrooke to see her before she dies. God’s teeth, there is no time to do anything else!” She sighed as if all the misery of the world lay upon her shoulders. “If there is any bit of a blessing in this, it is that Father knows I am unhappy about the marriage. He is afraid I will embarrass him in front of his friends, so there are few who will be there.”

  “But those that are will see that I’m not you!”

  “Nay, I’ve thought of that,” she said, though she seemed vastly worried. “Most people, even our relatives, have trouble telling us apart. Remember we sometimes fooled Father, and now he is nearly blind with age, his eyes as white as milk these past few years. Hildy nearly raised us, so she won’t give me away, Penelope will consider it a grand joke, and the priest is from Penbrooke. Father Barton or Bartholomew or something. He’s never met me.”

  “What about the baron?” Kiera asked, not believing for a second that this plan had a chance of working. ‘Twas idiocy of the highest order. “You know, the man you’re supposed to marry.”

  “He’s never laid eyes upon me.”

  “You’re certain?” Kiera was disbelieving and looked to the sky where a hawk was circling. “Could he not have seen you at a tournament or at a neighboring castle during the Christmas Revels or—”

  “Shhh! No! There is a rumor that Kelan was disowned by his father for a time because of his wild ways, and only recently regained favor. I’ve heard the guards call him the Beast of Penbrooke when they think no one is listening. He has never attended proper functions.”

  The carter rounded the comer, a dog limping behind him, and Elyn tugged on the sleeve of Kiera’s tunic. “Come along,” she said, smiling and nodding her head as the carter greeted them, then set to his task of removing the broken wagon wheel.

  Elyn guided Kiera through the herb garden, where a few patches of thyme grew heartily within the clumps of rosemary and sage. The sisters sat on a bench that had once been their mother’s favorite spot to work on her embroidery in the warmth of the summer sun.

  “Penbrooke won’t know you’re not his bride,” Elyn insisted as Kiera dug at a clump of weeds with the toe of her boot. “All you have to do is say the vows and beg off from the festivities, claim a headache. Everyone will believe it’s a case of nerves. Then the next morning I’ll return and take my place as his wife. It will not matter that it is you who has said the vows, for the marriage contract hinges on my name, which is all that is important in this mercenary union. I will be married to the man.” She shuddered at the prospect, and Kiera understood why. Elyn hated the thought of being wed to a man she didn’t love.

  But then another thought occurred to her, a horrid thought. Kiera suddenly lost all interest in the stubborn weeds. “Wait a minute. The next morning?” She gulped. “You’ve not mentioned the wedding night. What am I to do when the lord comes to my chamber and expects me to … to …”

  “You mean, when he expects to bed you?”

  “Not me. You,” Kiera pointed out.

  Elyn rested her chin on her fists. Her green eyes narrowed on a winter bird flying past. “You don’t have to sleep with him … well, yes, you do have to do the sleeping part, but not the other.”

  “And how am I to accomplish that?” Kiera hissed. “I don’t believe a headache or a case of nerves will be enough of an excuse on my wedding night.”

  “Of course it won’t. Besides, he has to think that you are—or I am—a virgin. There must be blood on the linens.”

  Kiera shot to her feet. “Blood on the linens? Oh, now I know you’ve lost your mind. How could I possibly see that the sheets were stained without … without—well, you know.” Horrified, she glared at her sister. If it wasn’t for the gravity of Elyn’s expression, she would have thought that her older sibling was toying with her, pushing a bad joke beyond its limits. “This is a daft plan. Daft! You must have left your mind in the stable, because it’s certainly missing! I think you best find it and soon.”

  “Just listen.” Instead of anger, now Elyn seemed scared. She wrapped her fingers around her sister’s wrist, touching that very spot that had broken on the night that Elyn had saved her life. A tiny bit of old pain shot up Kiera’s arm. “I cannot marry the baron because I can’t come to him as a virgin.”

  Kiera’s skin prickled with dread. She pulled her hand away, didn’t want to think of that fateful night and her hasty, though heartfelt, vow to do anything Elyn asked. “Why not?”

  “I’ve already given myself.” Her cheeks, beneath her freckles, reddened.

  “To Brock of Oak Crest?” Kiera demanded, knowing the answer before it passed Elyn’s tongue.

  “Aye.” Elyn was worrying her hands together, her teeth sinking into her lip. “I love him. I have from the first time I saw him at Tower Fenn. I was but thirteen years, yet smitten upon the sight of him. I have loved him ever since.”

  “For the love of St. Jude, Elyn.” Kiera thought little of the man who had so completely and stupidly captured her sister’s heart. “Is he not betrothed to another?”

  “Wynnifrydd.” Elyn’s nose wrinkled as if she’d just smelled rotten eggs. “Of Fenn. They are to be married soon.” She sighed loudly, her shoulders slumping as if from a great burden. The first drops of rain began to fall and splatter on the ground. “Brock loves me, not that scrawny wench. I know it. He no more wants to wed Wynnifrydd than I do Penbrooke.”

  “But you haven’t given this a chance. As you said, you’ve never met Penbrooke. Mayhap you’ll find him—”

  “Attractive?” Elyn snorted, shaking her head. “Obviously you’ve never been in love.”

  “You know that Brock’s a scoundrel. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “Mayhap, but the heart knows no reason.” Elyn stared into the storm as if she was searching for some kind of divine intervention, some kind of insight into her plight.

  “Oh, please, stop it! I’ve heard you spout this romantic nonsense too often, and look where it’s gotten you.” Kiera felt a pang of something akin to pity. Her strong sister was such a fool when it came to love, but Elyn had always been a bit of a dreamer. “I know you don’t want to marry Penbrooke. Have you not said as much every day since Father announced the agreement? But what you’re suggesting is mad … absurd; it will never, ever work.”

  “It will if you agree to it. Now, you’ll not have to give yourself to him, not really.” Elyn was blinking against the fat drops of rain falling from the sky. “You can give him a sleeping draft, and he’ll fall asleep and I’ll make sure there is a vial of blood—pig’s blood—that you can spill onto the sheets, so that when he awakens, he’ll believe—”

  “And why cannot you do this? Why can you not make sure he falls asleep, then sprinkle the sheets with blood?”

  “Because I am to meet Brock one last time.”

  “What?” Kiera cried. This was ludicrous! Insane!

  “Please, Kiera, if I can steal one more night with Brock, I will feel as if I have defied the contract that keeps me from my love. It will make assuming the duties as the Baron of Penbrooke’s wife bearable, and no one but us will know.”

  “ ’Twould only make things worse. Much worse. Nay, Elyn, this is crazy. I will do anything for you, I gave you my word
, but this … I cannot.”

  “You will not have to compromise your virginity.”

  “So you say, but—”

  “And everyone will think that he was with me. You lose nothing, Kiera. Nothing. And I will have one last night with my beloved.”

  Kiera was thinking that her virginity wasn’t as precious as she’d thought, not if it could be bartered with so easily. Though, of course, Elyn was right. Kiera would never give herself to the man. Yet she could not meet her sister’s request despite her promise. Kiera knew the plan could not work. She would not do it. ’Twas a fool’s mission.

  “This scheme is impossible,” she said, gathering her cowl over her head as the rain peppered the garden. “You must go to Father and talk him out of the marriage.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried? By the love of the Holy Mother, I’ve begged, screamed, cried, pleaded, and all for naught. Father will not listen to me.” Her eyes darkened dangerously and her chin set in the same determination Kiera had witnessed a hundred times before. If Elyn had inherited anything from Llwyd of Lawenydd, ’twas his damned pride and stubborn streak. Rain drizzled down her neck, but she didn’t bother covering her head.

  “Listen—” Desperately, Elyn grabbed hold of Kiera’s sleeve. “Have we not fooled our own cousins by pretending to be each other? Did we not trick our own father before?” Elyn insisted, her fire returning. “Even when his eyesight had not dimmed? We look enough alike as to be twins, as to be one, even Hildy has claimed as much!”

  Kiera paused for a moment. It was true that many often swore that Elyn and Kiera were nearly identical. Indeed, they shared many of the same features. Both had brilliant auburn hair, green eyes, and chins that ended in a distinct point. Kiera and Elyn had often confused household servants and, aye, even family members about their identities. Yet while they had often played tricks, the plan was simply too implausible and dangerous. “I’m sorry, Elyn, it is not going to work. I can’t do it.”