by Cara Coe
She awoke to the sight of beard and brawn gazing down at her. Had she not looked into Derrick’s face every day for the last seven days he would have scared the wits out of her.
“Good angels, Derrick, you’re a sight to wake to,” she muttered, shielding her eyes from the sun once he stepped aside and allowed it to flood her senses. He held out a heel of bread and mashed beans to her which she took as she tucked her legs into a sitting position.
“Good morning,” he responded. His voice rumbled deep and his response was short but warm. “Sleep well?”
She gave him a sideways glance which elicited a soundless chuckle from him. His laughter was only detected by the ruffling of his beard. She took it. That in itself was a feat.
“Not being shackled and bound had a slight effect,” she added for good measure. She glanced around and frowned slightly. No prince. She’d wanted to gauge his reaction at her still being here. “Where’s the prince?” she asked, stirring her beans with the bread and trying to sound casual.
“There’s a lake shortly that way,” Derrick said gesturing. “He needed to get refreshed.”
The sound of the men picking up camp around her was a familiar sound that she relaxed into as she ate her breakfast. Weapons sharpening, the rustle of bedrolls being packed up, and the horses whinnying as they got saddled.
“What do you think about breakfast?” Talon called from his position at his horse, brushing down her mane. “Derrick made it.”
Amelie made a show of taking a large bite of beans and savoring them.
“In that case, since the man himself who’s twice my size is sitting next to me, it’s delicious!” she called back. The men laughed. How did it happen that tonight when she headed back to Candor, she’d miss them? Her captors. There was more warmth in her imprisonment with the enemy than in her own royal family. A dressed up imprisonment awaited her upon her return. Hiding among nuns until the king bid her services.
“We’ll reach the castle tomorrow,” Derrick said, breaking into her thoughts. “I will teach you how to fight with the staff this evening. Your attack with the knives is impressive, but once you’ve thrown them, you are defenseless.”
Amelie cocked an eyebrow at him and he snorted.
“I am in your debt. You saved my life and healed Talon.” He gave her a meaningful look. “You are strong, but I would feel better if you could make any length of stick around you an effective weapon.”
Amelie briefly touched his forearm. “I am a quick learner,” she said. “I appreciate the offer.”
The pull on her conscious was sudden. Amelie paused mid-bite, feeling the familiar sensation of a man’s desire. It rocked her and she realized now how long she’d gone without experiencing it. She whipped her head around getting a read on his location. She was keenly aware of him, crouched between greenery fighting his urge to come to her and take her on the forest floor. His desires were strong – so much so she knew she had met him before, spent time developing those feelings. She could discern more than his carnal desire; she felt his intent on…the prince?
She was up before she had time to think. Ramming her shoulder into Talon, she stunned him momentarily, long enough to mount his horse and kick the stallion into a hurried run. She followed her awareness, crashing through the brush and damning stealth all together.
The trail brought her to the lip of the lake where the prince was pulling on his washed clothing. The assailant could see her now. She felt the burn in his groin rip through her, making her dizzy.
“Seth!” Her scream pierced the air, scattering water fowl in all directions. She didn’t dismount. She wouldn’t make it on foot. She drove her horse towards the prince at a full sprint. His alarm froze him in place.
The arrow was a white blur in the air and she sensed it fly with the assailant’s adrenaline. She took the weapon into her side as the horse passed in front of Prince Seth. With a painful cry, she swept down from the stallion, reaching into her boot for her dagger and twisting as she did. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt and she landed in a crouch while letting it fly in one fluid motion. She could not see the attacker, but she had set her aim at the pull on her senses and a satisfying wave washed over her as she felt the fire of pain in his gut. He staggered into view before heavily collapsing on the silt.
Prince Seth had her cradled before her head hit the ground. Now that the danger had passed, she was aware of her own pain where the arrow in her side sliced through muscle and tissue. Seth pressed a worried hand to the wound.
“Stay with me, Amelie,” he pleaded. He assessed the wound quickly, wincing at her cries as his roaming fingers triggered hurt. “It’s deep, but it hasn’t hit anything vital.”
“I felt his desire,” she said faintly, answering his questioning eyes. “It held more than just a desire for me. He intended to kill you.”
“We will ascertain his motives when we get back to the palace.”
Amelie smiled weakly. “Collecting prisoners at every stop on your journey?”
Prince Seth returned a worried smile. “Something like that.”
A new sensation caused the muscles in Amelie’s side to contract and sting. She winced and arched her back involuntarily. Her breaths became gasps. “The wound burns.”
The prince sucked in a sharp breath. “Poison. He meant his job to be complete.” He ripped a strip of cloth from his sleeve and secured the arrow in place. “Derrick! Talon!”
The men emerged from the brush, late to the fight, wildly taking in the scene around them.
“I was attacked. Amelie has fallen. Search the traitor’s body and gather the horses. We ride now!”
Chapter 21
Amelie
Amelie awoke to a sharp pain in her side. She was trained to keep still and quiet until she could assess her surroundings but a small exclamation escaped her lips. She went rigid but it was too late.
A plump face filled her view expectantly. The woman was elderly but her cheeks were round and warm and reddened considerably with excitement as she took in Amelie’s conscious state.
“Great Angels, child, we thought you’d never wake!” She dabbed a cool cloth to Amelie’s forehead and seemed to be torn between immediately tending to her patient and sounding the news to whoever awaited her recovery. She chose the former, perching her full form on the side of the bed and keeping the rag cool and refreshing on Amelie’s skin.
She stretched into the relief, thankful for this woman’s attention. She decided to gather information from this kind face, for she did not know if her next visitor would be so inviting.
“Where am I?” She recognized the motherly instinct in her attendant and made her voice meeker than she felt to extract sympathy.
“The palace dear, in the guest quarters. You came in here nearly half-dead in the middle of the night with an arrow out of your back! Been asleep nearly three days. The physician was not certain you’d break your fever. The poison almost took you.”
Amelie struggled to sit up and the elderly woman assisted her. She noticed now the soft silk covers about her skin and the whisper of a nightgown. Light material to help combat her fever, she guessed. “My name is Amelie.”
“Hencythia, my lady, but everyone calls me Henna.”
“You’ve been seeing to my health these past few days?”
“Aye. You gave me quite the fright. Me and the prince. He’s been in here twice a day at least to check your progress.”
Amelie hid the smile that threatened to betray her feelings to this stranger. This knowledge warmed her in the same way she’d felt on the road. “Thank you for your care, Henna. Where is the prince now?”
“In his study, awaiting news of your recovery. If you’re up to it, I’ll draw a hot bath and make you presentable. I imagine he’ll want an audience with you as soon as possible seeing as how’s he’s been pacing a trench in front of your door.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
Henna pushed herself up using the bedpost to assist her
and began rustling her skirts about the room, gathering the incidentals Amelie would need. “Good. Prince Kernan is not the most patient man so the sooner you’re ready, the better.”
Amelie gave a start. “Prince Kernan?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where is Prince Seth?”
“Not here, ma’am. He left right after depositing you safely in this room. Rode out with his men the same night, exhausted as they were.” She gently took Amelie’s elbow and put a thick hand on her lower back. “Come now, let me help you up. We’ll have you feeling refreshed in no time.”
Amelie allowed Henna to assist her to the bath, stifling her disappoint at Prince Seth’s absence. His job was complete. He’d delivered her to the palace and of course he had no need to remain. She squared her shoulders. Prince Kernan, Prince Seth, it didn’t matter. She would speak to whomever she needed to speak to and consider her next plan of action accordingly.
Prince Kernan was an older version of Seth but taller and a little wider in the shoulders. He wore his midnight hair straight and shoulder-length and his skin was paler from fewer days on the road. He appraised Amelie thoughtfully as she took a velvet chair in front of his desk.
“You are feeling better, Miss Amelie?” he asked as the guard who had seated her took up a position near the door.
“Much, my lord. Thank you for your hospitality.”
The dress she wore was borrowed with no time for alterations. Its owner was a shade smaller than she and the tightness enhanced areas she wished were not highlighted. She adjusted her shawl to compensate. Until she had her riding gear back, this would have to do.
“My brother detailed to me your crime,” Prince Kernan continued, clasping his hands on the wooden desk. He hesitated a moment before adding, “As well as your heroics.”
“Did he explain my curse? Already your guard has a heightened awareness of me and in this small space, you too will begin to feel the effect though I am keeping the magic latent.”
The clang of metal sounded in the room and the guard adjusted to an even more rigid stance, embarrassed by the claim.
“Add saltwood to the fireplace, sir,” she continued softly. “It will help.”
A quick nod from the prince and the guard commissioned someone beyond Amelie’s sight to carry out her recommendation.
“You refused to share your rank and title with my brother,” the prince continued.
“And as I have come to have a deep respect for Prince Seth, I shall be so inclined to provide you with even less, your Highness, seeing how I have just met you.”
“How will your secrecy serve you? You are deep within Draeden, far from your home kingdom. You have only the royal court to deliver you from the charges of espionage yet you give us nothing to work with. Help yourself.”
“I am but an instrument to my kingdom. It precedes my own needs. As I told Prince Seth, I will only divulge what my king instructs me to share. Nothing more.”
Prince Kernan leaned back in his chair and pushed his long fingers together thoughtfully.
“Fair enough, I suppose. I had hoped we could begin to settle this now, but I can see you’re going to be as stubborn with me as you were with my brother.”
“Even more so, your Highness.”
Prince Kernan sighed. “We are not enemies, Miss Amelie. Though none of the five kingdoms have relations with one another so we are not friendly either. Your actions to save the crowned prince and his very insistence that you spend your time here in comfort will be honored while we wait for your delegation, but make no mistake that you are a prisoner until cleared of these charges. When word does come from your kingdom, I hope for your sake it works out in your favor.”
Chapter 22
Seth
Rain beat down on the soldiers in green tunics but Prince Seth hardly felt a drop. His mind burned. His teeth gritted in frustration. He let loose his rage on the bald baker, ramming a fist into his nose and drawing more blood on an already blood-slicked chin. One eye had purpled and swelled shut. The baker spit out a spray of blood and pleaded.
“I know nothing else, Your Highness,” he insisted in a garbled voice. “I swear it. Please.”
“Two mages have gone missing after patronizing your bakery and you are the uncle of the man who tried to assassinate me three days ago. You will not be released until you provide me with what I need to know.”
Another fist. To his good eye. The baker wailed.
Talon finally stepped forward and placed a soft hand on the prince’s shoulder. Just enough to awaken Seth from his rage without stepping out of bounds as one of his loyal subjects. Seth shook him off and drew back another fist but froze. He heaved a defeated breath before uncurling his fist and using it to push the wet hair off his forehead. Tears broke in his eyes and he gave a silent thanks that they ran with the rain down his face, disguising his weakness.
He approached the baker and sneered at him over his height. “If she doesn’t make it, may the angels help you, I will come back to skewer your face with my sword.”
He stepped away quickly, walking down the muddied path that led from the bakery. He did not give the order to untie the baker where his hands were bound around a post on his porch. Talon gave a slight nod and two of the soldiers released his bonds and moved him back inside. Talon fell in step with his prince.
“Where to next?” he asked.
Seth raked frustrated hands down his cheeks. Usually a calculated man several decisions ahead of his current position, he found himself helpless and wildly haphazard. After Amelie went down with the arrow, they had rode at breakneck speed and reached the palace well after nightfall with Seth driving the group until the horses slobbered at the mouth with exhaustion. He hurriedly roused the servants, his brother, and the king getting his story out in hurried spurts. A room was secured, a royal doctor was fetched and the men were sent out as she was stripped and mended. After leaving a paste of herbs with a maid to rub into her wounds, nothing more could be done and all Seth could do was crouch outside her door. His forehead pressed against his clenched fist, his body sat rigid with fear. His heart was rapid at the thought that she might not wake up.
Kernan joined him on the hard floor outside her door. Seth scarcely spared him a glance.
“Her name is Amelie?” Kernan finally asked.
Seth nodded. “That is what she told me.”
“But apparently not much else.”
“No.”
“And you trust her?”
“Implicitly.”
Kernan gave a humorless chuckle. “You were bringing her in for treason. This is an unusual situation, brother.”
“She’s quiet but thoughtful. She’s strong. She has a fierce loyalty to her people but I do not think her kingdom has any ill will towards ours. I think we may be fighting the same enemy.”
“And you got all this from her only revealing a name? Which may or may not be false?”
“I got all this from her actions on our journey.”
“I understand your crooked sense of loyalty to the prisoner.” Kernan patted his brother’s shoulder. “One of the staff recognized the would-be assassin as a nephew of a baker in the nearby village. It was your next assignment upon your return as several mages have disappeared from there as well. Go. Continue the mission. Get some answers. You’ll only drive yourself crazy and sitting outside her door will not heal her any faster. That’s an order.”
Seth looked at Kernan. Kernan’s lips formed a tight line. “I’ll keep a close watch on her and make sure she remains under the best care. I am anxious to speak with her.”
“You will send for me as soon as she regains consciousness?”
“Focus on your mission, brother.”
“You will send for me.”
Kernan sighed. “Yes. I will send for you. Do not let father hear of your favor towards her. She is Candorian. Whatever her intentions, she has broken many laws crossing into our land.”
And so he went, grateful to pu
mmel his rage into driving horses, barking orders, and slamming his fist into enemies with faces. As his anger washed away into the storm, he stood before Talon with an emptiness that suddenly made him weary.
“Let us rest in the baker’s home above his shop,” Talon suggested. “Having us near him all night will agitate him if he is hiding something. He will not sleep peacefully. But you must rest.”
Seth nodded. Rest. A novel idea. He hoped it would come.
Chapter 23
Amelie
Amelie stood at the edge of her room with her feet over the stonework which began the marble balcony that let the sunset wind rustle the fabrics in her room. It combed through her hair as well, soothing her anxiety. She’d been awake from her ordeal for four days now. Her time was spent restricted to the east wing of the palace where her room was located. King Armiss and Prince Kernan made daily visits to her. Prince Kernan’s were businesslike and informational. He kept her abreast of news such as the page from Candor announcing the arrival of a delegation to negotiate her release. King Armiss conducted himself in a more friendly tone. He asked innocuous questions about her kingdom, her opinions on Draeden’s law, and would sometimes play a few rounds of chess.
Her confinement was spent in comfort as Prince Kernan had stated. Her food was fit for royalty, she was housed in a room rich with colored drapes, rugs, and plush bedding, and she had movements throughout her wing with an escort. Prince Kernan was ever respectful and he had made his gratitude known for the life of his brother. His visits were brief and Amelie suspected that was purposefully so. She sensed his restraint and appreciated it.
King Armiss liked to linger and as the days passed, his lingering grew. Quickly. He did not resist her latent magic but never made a physical or aggressive move toward her. He carried the air of a lonely man. Amelie’s magic soothed the pangs of loneliness and she wondered if he was indulging in that balm.
“You care for my son. Seth,” the king said one day as he contemplated a chess move with his bishop. Amelie did not follow his gaze to the game board but kept it steady on him, trying to ascertain his motive for the statement before answering.