He did care about her at that moment, when he thought she was a man. But then he’d discovered the truth. He would never want to talk to her or fight by her side again. After all, it had only been a few days since he’d hated her and wanted to show off how much stronger and more skilled he was at sword fighting.
She sighed. Going over and over it in her mind wouldn’t help. Besides, what did it matter how he felt about her? She was nothing to him. He was a duke’s son. He’d go back to his family and his castle in the Holy Roman Empire, and she would go back to Lithuania, far away from him. And what would she do? Marry a butcher or baker or chandler and live in her little village for the rest of her life, concerned only with the daily chores of cooking and cleaning and raising her children. Some women seemed happy with that, but . . . it filled her with dread.
And she’d never see Wolfgang again.
But she would never forget him. And she liked to think that he’d never be able to forget the soldier he fought alongside who turned out to be a woman.
Wolfgang sat staring out at the trees from where he had broken his fast with some bread and cheese. Dieter, a friend and one of the other soldiers from Hagenheim, sat beside him.
“I’m sorry about Steffan.”
Wolfgang nodded. “I just can’t believe he would do this. And yet . . . he never wanted to do anything Father and Mother expected of him.”
There was no use talking about it. Steffan had sworn him to secrecy many times about the event that had changed Wolfgang’s brother when Steffan was only eight and Wolfgang was six. Steffan had grown defiant and angry, while Wolfgang had felt as if he should always try to atone for what had happened.
Once when they were around twelve and fourteen, Wolfgang had told his brother, “God forgives us. All we have to do is ask for forgiveness and He grants it.”
Steffan sneered, then laughed. “Do you think I still care about that? It wasn’t my fault anyway.”
But Wolfgang remembered Steffan’s expression when he’d found out the repercussions of their childish antics. The horror on his face was unforgettable. But he’d made Wolfgang promise not to tell Father, not to tell anyone, their part in the tragedy.
Wolfgang had been so terrified, he’d readily promised, not wanting his father, whom he loved and revered, to think he was bad. But his father had figured out most of it himself, and he’d told their mother. Poor Mother. She’d worried so much about them after that.
But they’d never told the whole story, and the secret had weighed heavy. He’d urged his brother several times to tell their father what had happened. And the last time, Steffan had called him names and vowed never to see him or his family again if Wolfgang told.
Not wishing to lose the brother who had been his constant companion throughout childhood, he had agreed.
And now . . . He hadn’t known Mikolai—Mulan—for very long, but she occupied his thoughts even more than his brother. Wolfgang couldn’t get her and her secret out of his head. Did he hate her? Was he angry at her for fooling him and pretending to be a man?
He was angry, but . . .
His stomach flipped as he remembered the last time he looked into her face. Her black hair had come loose from the leather tie that normally held it behind her neck. The hair framed her face and matched the long eyelashes he hadn’t noticed before. Her lips were pink and full—also something he hadn’t noticed before he knew she was a woman.
But he had to stop thinking about her that way.
Wolfgang rubbed his burning eyes. He’d hardly slept at all.
Gerke clapped him on the shoulder and he startled. He’d forgotten his page was there.
“Don’t worry about Mikolai. Andrei says his wounds are not serious.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Wolfgang grumbled.
Why did he say that? He should have shrugged and nodded to show he wasn’t worried about “Mikolai.”
As the only person besides Andrei who knew that Mikolai was a woman, he almost wished he could guard her tent and make sure nothing happened to her. Would she insist on staying with the other soldiers and fighting? Perhaps he could convince her to go home. Surely now she would see the necessity.
Mulan met the captain with as much confidence as she could
muster, forcing her shoulders back and lifting her head high.
“Mikolai. I heard you were injured. Lost a lot of blood.”
“I wouldn’t say it was a lot of blood.” Mulan’s lips tipped up in a half smile. “I’m well enough to fight now.”
“Wolfgang seems to think you aren’t able, that your injuries could be internal and severe.”
Mulan blew out a breath. So this was how it would be. “I don’t believe my injury is any more serious than Wolfgang’s shoulder wound. In fact, I’d say I’m in better shape to fight than he is.”
“Is that so?”
She turned to see Wolfgang standing behind her, his brows lowered.
“Yes, that’s so.” She braced her hand on her hip, then realized how feminine that might look, so she removed it and spit on the ground, cocking one foot out at an angle. “You have to use your arm to shoot, but my wound is in my side.” She shook her head. “It shall not interfere with my fighting.”
“If Mikolai says he’s able to fight, then I trust him.” Captain Bogdan’s brows were raised as he eyed Wolfgang.
Wolfgang scowled but said nothing.
“I’m glad you both are so willing to fight, but I need more scouts. The enemy is encamped not far away and we believe they intend to attack soon. If you could get close enough to eavesdrop and discover when they intend to attack, we could surprise them before they’re ready.”
Wolfgang’s eyes narrowed as he stared past them.
The captain named the scouts he was sending on this mission. Then he described the place where the enemy encampment was, the hiding places around it, and the positions of their guards.
“They’ve already burned every field around here, killing many of Duke Konrad’s tenants in the process. They’ve vowed to annihilate every one of Duke Konrad’s men and allies. And the Teutonic Knights don’t make vows lightly.”
Wolfgang’s gaze met hers. Intensity simmered in his eyes—concern, anger, or warning, she wasn’t sure which—but he didn’t want her going on this mission.
He had no choice. The captain had given an order, and Wolfgang couldn’t argue.
CHAPTER 11
Wolfgang clenched and unclenched his fists as he strode toward the big beech tree at the edge of their encampment, his meeting place with Mulan. Then he saw her out of the corner of his eye approaching him.
“Shall we go?” She actually smiled.
“Are you so determined to die for Duke Konrad?” How dare she tell the captain that his injury was worse than hers. She should be afraid, should show some humility, since Wolfgang could easily end her foolish pretense by telling the captain.
She frowned at him. “I’m doing my job, like any other soldier. Any one of us could die, but I’m willing to take that risk.”
“But you’re not like any other soldier, are you?”
She stuck her finger in his face, pointing right at his nose. In a low voice she said, “You should stop talking now.”
“This is not a game. This is life and death. And . . .” He pressed his lips together as tightly as he could.
“And what?”
“You . . . you shouldn’t be here.”
“Duke Konrad says I’m the most courageous soldier who’s ever fought for him. And the captain has sent me on a mission, so I have every right to be here. I am a soldier. And if you don’t want to accompany me, I’m certain the captain will find someone else to go.” She tilted her chin up and stared with defiance into his eyes.
Wolfgang could threaten to tell her secret, but that seemed petty and childish. And it would only be a threat, because he would never do anything that would endanger her. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair. “Let’s go.”
Mula
n made sure to walk beside Wolfgang instead of behind him. She couldn’t let him think she considered herself anything less than his equal.
“What were you thinking about back there, when Captain Bogdan was talking to us?”
“What do you mean?” He didn’t look at her.
“It seemed as if you were thinking of doing something the captain might not give his approval for.”
“Next you’ll be telling me you can see my thoughts using a bag of bat-wing bones your mother gave you.”
“Don’t say such a thing, even in jest.” Mulan moved slightly in front of him, walking sideways, and stared him down. “That kind of talk will get my mother burned at the stake for practicing pagan magic. The priests in Lithuania don’t allow anything that even hints of heresy. We were a pagan nation, you should know, until three or four decades ago.”
“Forgive me.” He looked her in the eye. “My father always employed at least one healer, but I know some rulers in the Holy Roman Empire occasionally accuse healers of witchcraft. Would your mother be in danger for her healing salve?”
“The priests have always allowed her that, after she explains every ingredient and that the recipe came partially from some monks at a monastery near our village. But she had a great-grandmother who was accused of practicing witchcraft and had to hide out in a cave. I don’t know all the details about that . . .”
She let her voice trail off. She shouldn’t be chattering away like a magpie. But now that Wolfgang knew she was a woman, she let her guard down. She no longer needed to make her voice low and gruff around him. But she probably should not lower her defenses. Anyone might be watching and listening in these woods while they were traversing the open road, with the dense trees and thick underbrush crowding alongside.
Now that she was walking beside Wolfgang again, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. When their eyes met, he averted his gaze.
What did he think of her now that he knew she was a woman? Was he disgusted by her? Men didn’t like strong women, after all. Or that was the impression she’d gotten from her father and some of the men in the village. But that had always made her feel defiant. She’d never cared about gaining the favor of any man. Even Algirdas.
Except, perhaps, she felt a bit more disposed to gaining this man’s favor.
That thought sent a pang through her middle. Very unwise, Mulan.
“The truth is,” Wolfgang said quietly, “I am hoping I might be able to find my brother and talk to him.”
“What? That sounds foolish. He might shoot you this time.”
“I’ll capture him. He will be safer as our prisoner than he would be anywhere else.” A pained look slid over his face. “I’m very sorry he wounded you. It was my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. This is a war, after all. Enemies shoot to kill.”
“But . . . I stopped you from shooting him, which wasn’t fair to you.”
“You’re right.” She raised her brows and looked askance at him. “It wasn’t fair. But I understand. And I forgive you.”
He stopped, so she stopped too.
“Thank you. For not telling the captain about that.”
“Of course.”
The look in his eyes . . . so gentle, understanding, even tender. Her heart beat wildly inside her chest. She’d never known men like Wolfgang existed. He wasn’t perfect by any means, but he also didn’t treat her like a pack animal, a slave, or an object to be ignored.
The only tenderness she’d ever seen in her father was when he rubbed down his horse.
Perhaps that was why she never wanted to be married, never felt an attraction for a man.
Her stomach flipflopped as much as her heart at the thought. How would it feel if a man—this man—spoke to her in a kind and gentle voice, expressing his love while staring deeply into her eyes? Would he kiss her? If she were his wife, would he show affection to her, even hold her in his arms?
Mulan quickly looked away, her breaths quickening as she started walking again. Could he tell what she was thinking? Did he know what she was feeling? Foolish, foolish girl. He didn’t know and he didn’t care, not about her. Tenderness, bah! She was imagining it.
But they were friends again. For some reason that made her feel lighter, and she started singing, quietly under her breath. Then she halted the ballad that was rolling through her head. They were not that far from where the enemy was encamped.
“What’s it like to have a brother?”
“I rather suspected Andrei was your brother.”
“No, Andrei was my father’s attendant. He accompanied him on his last two campaigns.”
“And he knows your secret?”
“Yes.”
Now Wolfgang was looking at her askance with raised eyebrows.
“He’s just a boy, barely twelve. He was my friend back in our village. We both were harassed—he because he had no parents, and me because . . . well, I look like someone from the Far East lands.” Her cheeks burned at bringing that to his attention.
“People can be cruel. I’m sorry, Mulan.”
She had to turn away from the compassion in his face as sorrow threatened to constrict her throat. But, of course, he wouldn’t understand. He was born to a life of privilege.
“You were about to tell me about your brothers.” Mulan hoped he would talk so she could stop thinking about herself.
“I like my brothers, and we all got along, except for Steffan. He was always teasing someone, always annoying our sisters, playing pranks on people, and I admit, I went along with him, which I later regretted.” He heaved a sigh. “I let him influence me more than I should have for far too long. But I realized several years ago, we all have a choice as to what kind of man we want to be.” He glanced at her. “What kind of person.”
“Of course.”
“I could be angry and only care about myself, or I could be the sort of man my father was—kind and generous and determined to do right instead of wrong.” He frowned. “Steffan could never seem to see Father as a good and noble person. He always wanted to rebel against every suggestion he made.”
“Well, I’m glad you stopped letting him influence you. What changed your mind?”
“Some things happened. My father had to fight against an evil man who tried to take over Hagenheim—he did seize control for a while. Father and my older brother fought to save us, to rescue Mother and my sisters and Steffan and me. There was such a stark difference between evil and good, and I finally saw it then. Here was a man who didn’t care who he hurt. He was selfish and wanted what he wanted, no matter what it cost other people. But it was my father, my brother Valten, my brother-in-law Gerek, and the other knights under my father who showed not only courage but also concern and compassion.”
Wolfgang waved his hand. “I suppose it sounds obvious, but it was a revelation for me. And then there was my sister’s husband, Aladdin. He never let anyone discourage him. And he loved Kirstyn and even sacrificed himself once, when they were children, to save her.”
“Sacrificed himself?”
“He got between her and a bear. Nearly lost his leg, but he lived.” Wolfgang’s face was framed by the green leafy trees behind him as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Not very many men survive a fight with a bear.”
He nodded and smiled, which made her want to think of more things to say that would summon another smile.
“So with examples like that, how could I let Steffan continue to lead me down a bad path? I only wish I could have convinced him”—he stared past her again, his face falling—“to follow my lead for once.”
Her heart squeezed at the pain in his voice and expression. “Perhaps you will. Perhaps it’s not too late.”
But his face lit up and he took a step toward her. “I’m so glad you think so, because I believe if I could just remind him of those things, he might change.”
“But how will you find him among the enemy? How will you get close enough without getting capture
d yourself?” Her breathing quickened as she imagined him getting snatched by the heartless Teutonic Knights, tortured, and killed.
His jaw tightened and he didn’t say anything. He knew the danger. “God will make a way.”
It seemed a foolish thing to say, but the priest said that without faith it was impossible to please God. Perhaps God would make a way. However, it seemed unlikely Wolfgang could convince his brother now if he couldn’t convince him before.
“If you think it’s foolhardy and don’t want to be a part of it, I understand. In fact . . .” Wolfgang rubbed his chin. “When we reach their camp, I want you to stay a safe distance away while I search for Steffan.”
“Our orders are to find out the plans of the enemy, so we have to get close enough to hear what they’re saying. We’ve already talked about this. Captain Bogdan trusts us both to be on this mission. I am a soldier just like you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t like it, but he had no choice.
“And while we are listening for information about their plans, we can keep an eye out for Steffan.”
Andrei would tell her she was being daft. She mustn’t think foolish thoughts about Wolfgang. But when she saw that smile and look of gratitude on his face . . . she wouldn’t take back her words for anything.
Was he leading Mulan into danger? She wouldn’t listen to reason. If he had to leave her to look for Steffan, he would do it to keep her safe.
Wolfgang and Mulan approached the encampment in broad daylight, crouching as they moved, glancing all around. When they were so close they could see glimpses of the tents between the bushes, a guard appeared ahead of them, leaning back against a tree, his bow and arrow in his hands as he scanned the forest in front of him.
Mulan saw him too. They stood still and watched. After several minutes, the guard pushed himself off the tree and walked away, constantly surveying the area.
When he was gone, they climbed a tree to get a better view.
Mulan moved a little slower this time, looking less like a squirrel as she gingerly progressed from branch to branch, wincing when she reached up with her right hand. Wolfgang climbed up behind her, trying to use his right arm instead of his left, but his shoulder was paining him as he went. Finally he reached the highest branch that would hold his weight and sat down, staring out at the enemy soldiers.
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