Pigsty Princess

by Nancy S. Brandt

  “Help,” the voice called out again.

  As far as he knew, there were no women among the King’s Guard. Was this some clever ploy to use a woman to lure him into a trap?

  “I’m getting too suspicious in my old age, Breckin,” he said to the horse, who ignored him in favor of the still-green vegetation underfoot.

  Orlando slipped off the horse’s back and wrapped the reins around a low hanging branch.

  “Who’s there?” he called in the direction of the voice.

  “Oh, please. I’ve fallen.”

  Rolling his eyes at the thought of some village maid sneaking into the forest to meet a lover, he knew he had to help her. If the King’s Guard found her, they would be less sympathetic.

  It didn’t take him long to find her lying at the bottom of a dry riverbed, her leg bent under her. With a sinking heart, he realized this was Progenna Mariana. She’d been in the carriage with the Queen the day his men had robbed the royal caravan. Her dark blonde hair was coming loose from the braid draped over her shoulder, and her forehead was decorated with a smudge of dirt he was certain she didn’t know about.

  These little bits of vulnerability, combined with her awkward position on the ground, softened the edges of the proud nobility the royal family seemed to be born with.

  “What happened?” he asked, standing on the bank, looking down at her.

  “I fell. What do you think happened? Help me up.”

  Not wanting to let her know he knew who she was, he said, “It’s a bit dangerous being out here alone, little one. Where’s your master?” He glanced around, but didn’t see evidence of any other people out here.

  “My master? How dare you speak to me this way? Are you going to help me up or do I report you to the King’s Guard?”

  There should be someone accompanying her. “I don’t see any of them here. Should we wait?” He sat down on a rock.

  “You scoundrel. Get me up.”

  “Scoundrel? I think I like that.” However, he stood and went down to where she lay. “Give me your hand, princess.”

  “Princess?” The color drained from her face. Interesting. She didn’t want him to know who she was.

  “It was the attitude, darlin’. All bossy and demanding, like a royal.”

  “Like a royal,” she murmured as she reached up for his hand. She wore thin leather gloves, and, as he took her hand, his Blood Sensitivity automatically reached toward her.

  Heat cascaded up his arm, followed by an icy blast that nearly knocked him over. In the space of a heartbeat, he saw her surrounded by ocean waves, towering mountains, ripping winds. The intensity of it made him lightheaded, and he pulled his Sensitivity around him just to keep on his feet.

  None of this made sense. Wasn’t Progenna Mariana an Insensitive? He’d touched commoners and other Insensitives before and felt nothing. Literally, it was like stepping into an underground room where no light, heat, or sound could penetrate.

  What he’d just experienced was the total opposite of that. Clearly, she possessed so much power it was a miracle it hadn’t destroyed her. How was it possible the King and Queen didn’t know?

  Mariana blinked, and her hand slipped out of his. He waited for her to acknowledge the touch, but she said nothing about it and reached for him again.

  “I think I must have hit my head,” she muttered as she returned to her feet. “I suddenly feel quite dizzy.” She swayed and her eyes rolled back.

  Orlando caught her just before she hit the ground, and while she weighed less than he expected, he went down to his knees and laid her on her back.

  She remained unconscious for a few moments, and he stared at her. Was it possible she hadn’t recognized the touch of a Blood Sensitive?

  No. That didn’t make sense. Every child born to a noble parent who might have any Sensitivity was taken to Kylan, the Abilities Trainer, soon after birth and then again when the child’s abilities began to manifest.

  Kylan was an exceptionally strong Blood Sensitive, and he would have had to have touched her with his Abilities at least once.

  Orlando would never forget how he’d felt when Kylan touched his Abilities when he was twelve years old, right before his stepmother sent him away. Even now, years later, he sometimes had nightmares about the pain of the testing. His own Abilities were weak enough his touch couldn’t injure, but he was always careful to be as gentle as possible.

  Still, he knew his touch was why she’d fainted. Why didn’t she realize it?

  Was it possible she did know and was pretending otherwise? Of course it was possible, he thought. The royal family wasn’t known for their honesty. She was one of them.

  The Progenna’s eyes opened. “Did I faint?”

  He nodded. “You did, but I caught you.” He offered his arm to assist her as she struggled to sit up.

  “That’s strange. My head doesn’t hurt, and I don’t remember hitting it when I fell into the riverbed. Why would I faint like that?”

  “Just the shock, I imagine.” If she wasn’t going to mention the Blood touch, he wouldn’t either. His Abilities were his own secret, much as hers were. He couldn’t trust a member of the royal family, regardless how vulnerable she seemed right now. “We should get you home.”

  “Home.” She bit her lip and glanced toward the riverbed. “I am not…headed that way.”

  “I see.” He decided to play along. “You’re traveling. You must not realize you are trespassing on the King’s land. In fact, we both are, and we should get moving. The guards might be by at any moment, and it wouldn’t be good for either one of us to be caught here. Our King is not known for his kindness and compassion, especially for those who trespass in his forest.”

  She stared at him, and her green eyes grew dark, like the leaves of the hachiya persimmon trees that grew in the royal orchard. His father’s estate bordered that land, and Orlando had spent many summer afternoons lying under the trees waiting for the succulent fruit to ripen. His comments about her father clearly angered her.

  Pulling away from him, she retrieved her valise from the opposite side of the river bed. He watched her a few times. She’d certainly chosen exactly the wrong shoes for walking on stones and uneven ground. He met her at the bottom of the riverbed and helped her climb up.

  “Do you know a place I can stay?” she asked. “I’ve money.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “You know, princess, I wouldn’t be letting that be common knowledge. Don’t you know about the terrible rebels and bandits that roam these woods? They wouldn’t hesitate to relieve you of your money. At the point of a knife, I hear.”

  She stared at him, tilting her head to one side as though trying to figure something out. Had he gone too far with his acting?

  “Have we met before, sir?” she asked. “Something about you is familiar.”

  He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. They’d reached Breckin. “Don’t think so. I’m just a common pig farmer and rarely associate with ladies who dress as fancy as yourself. Come. I’ll take you to my house until we can get you fixed up and on your way.”

  Chapter Nine

  Mariana saw the landscape go by, but her brain was spinning too fast for her to notice anything.

  What was she doing, sitting on the back of a stranger’s horse, headed who knows where? He said he was taking her to his house, but she didn’t know a thing about him.

  Still, though, something in his deep brown eyes and the soft smokiness of his voice was familiar, and she felt, instinctively, she could trust him.

  His horse stepped on a particularly uneven part of the ground, and Mariana’s foot jarred against the side of the animal, sending a shock of pain up her leg. Involuntarily, she let out a moan.

  “Are you in pain?” the man asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her.

  “I may have injured my ankle more than I realized.”

  He stopped the horse and came over. Without asking, he lifted her skirt.

  “What are you do
ing?” No man had ever touched her like this. She batted his hands away from her.

  Scowling, he glanced at her face. “I need to see if your ankle is swollen. It may be sprained.”

  “Are you a physician? Because if you aren’t, I would appreciate it if you didn’t take such liberties without asking. I don’t even know you. We’ve never been introduced.”

  A slow smile crept over his features. “Touching your dress is a liberty?”

  “No gentleman would presume to do such a thing without a lady’s permission.” She lifted her chin a bit. He might not realize who she was, but she would make sure he knew she wasn’t the common doxy he seemed to believe.

  “Now, you’re assuming I’m a gentleman.” He continued to stand close to her leg, but his arms were crossed over his chest. “That might not be an accurate description of my character.”

  “You assisted me in a time of need,” she countered.

  He shrugged. “Maybe I’m one of those nasty rebels the King is always looking for. Maybe I’m taking you back to my lair as my prisoner.” The waggling of his eyebrows at this made her smile in spite of the increased pounding of her heart as she realized he could be right. She needed to be more careful about trusting strangers.

  “I don’t think you would let me sit on your horse alone if that were the case,” she replied after a moment. “Wouldn’t you be worried I could jump off and run away?”

  “On that ankle?” With a quick movement of his hand, he threw the hem of her skirt up over her knee and ran his fingertips over her ankle. She shivered at the intimacy of the touch, even through the thick knit of her stockings.

  In her world, a respectable woman never exposed any part of her body below the shoulders to any man other than her husband. At least, that was what her tutors had drilled into her. This was one reason her small rebellion of leaving her gloves off for the royal dinner should have been such a scandal.

  This man saw no skin, but just the fact her stockings were visible made her feel exposed.

  “I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s hard to tell if there is any swelling through these things,” he said. “I don’t suppose they can be rolled down?”

  “Certainly not.” Her voice trembled at the idea of him even asking to see her bare ankle. “I will deal with whatever pain there is until we reach a competent physician.” She carefully dropped the skirt so her foot was hidden again.

  He shrugged again, pulling his hand from under the fabric. “Your choice, I suppose.” Then he gave her that smile again. “I’m Orlando, by the way. You know, in case I brush against your arm or something later.”

  ****

  “Have you lost your senses?” Later that night, Adindira pulled the bedroom door closed and took Orlando’s arm, leading him toward the front room of his house. As soon as he’d been assured his guest was sleeping soundly that night, he sent someone to the caves to get his sister.

  She gestured toward his bedroom. “That’s Princess Mariana, you idiot, and you’ve kidnapped her? You’ve gone too far. The men will be hanged for this.”

  “Not Princess,” Traren, second-in-command of the rebels, said from where he sat at Orlando’s kitchen table. “The King created a new title for her. Progenna, to make sure the world knew she is an Insensitive.”

  “That’s the thing,” Orlando said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across the table. “She’s not.”

  Dira cleared her throat. “Excuse me, boys. You’re missing the point. You have the Progenna…” She put an emphasis on the last word and glared at Traren. “…in this house, and the King doesn’t know where she is. I’m pretty sure he would consider that kidnapping.”

  “I didn’t kidnap her.” Orlando went to the window and opened the shutter slightly. A few of his men who had accompanied Adindira still hovered around the cottage, waiting for him to come out with instructions. At this point, he didn’t know what he was going to tell them. He closed the shutter again.

  “You found her in the forest. That’s a nice, convenient story.” Adindira picked up a dirty plate and took it to the tub on the counter. “What were you thinking?”

  “Well, I thought I was helping a woman who’d gotten hurt. She didn’t tell me who she was. In fact, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anyone to know who she is. Why would she want to keep that secret?”

  Adindira poured some water from a bucket over the plate and washed it. “I don’t know.”

  “Something’s not right here,” Orlando said, looking at the valise sitting inside his front door. “Where was she going on foot alone in the middle of the night?”

  They were silent for a few moments. Hamneth had given the Progenna some sleeping herbs after examining her. He’d declared her ankle merely sprained.

  “You have to take her back to the palace,” Adindira said. “Maybe the King will forgive your crimes for the return of his precious daughter.”

  “I don’t think she wants to go back,” he said, standing and walking toward the bag. “She was running away.”

  “Running away?” His sister laughed. “Oh, sure. That has to be it. All that food, money, and servants has to get on your nerves after a while. I can see why she’d want to come here. She probably wants to wash her own clothes for a change.”

  “I don’t know why she was doing it,” Orlando said. “But she was carrying this.” He picked up the valise.

  “It doesn’t feel like it’s full of clothes.” He set it on the table. “It’s too heavy.”

  “And you know how heavy a bag of women’s clothes should be?” Adindira dried her hands and hung the towel on the edge of the tub. She walked over to him. “You’re not going to open it, are you?”

  He grinned at her. “What do you take me for? A thief?”

  However, the latch of the Progenna’s bag was unfastened.

  Adindira touched the clasp and gasped. “What did you do?”

  “Not me,” he said, looking at her with his best innocent expression. “It was like this when I picked it up to put it away.”

  She pursed her lips, but clearly her curiosity got the better of her because she stood to peek inside.

  “It’s gold,” she whispered.

  Orlando nodded. “And jewelry, and a few changes of clothes. She was definitely running away.”

  Adindira picked up a gold coin. “Maybe you could bribe the guards to release Elnys with this.”

  “It might be simpler to send a ransom note to the King, offering to send his daughter back in exchange for Elnys’s life.” Traren jerked his head toward the bag. “Some of that fine clothing should be proof we’ve got her.”

  Adindira shook her head and scowled at him. “Don’t even think that.” She turned to her brother. “You and your men have been nothing if not honest. You wouldn’t stoop to hold a woman prisoner.”

  He patted her hand. “It’s not a bad idea, but we don’t have to actually hold her prisoner. She can stay here until she’s back on her feet. The King doesn’t have to know she’s my guest, though. We send him one of these dresses or something and tell him we want Elnys back if he wants to see the lovely little Progenna again.”

  ****

  Orlando’s unexpected guest slept until midmorning. He’d sent most of his men to escort Adindira back to the caves, but Traren and Hamneth spent the rest of the night in his barn. Knowing he should stay at the cottage in case the Progenna needed him, he’d slept on the sofa.

  Now his friends sat at his table, sharing coffee and speculating about the situation. Orlando leaned against the wall, listening, but when he heard the bedroom door open, he righted himself as the other men stood.

  “Good morning, Progenna,” he said, tipping his head toward her.

  She froze in her tracks and blinked at him. “You have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid. How do you know me?”

  “You’re the Progenna of Valborough.” Traren sat back in his seat and propped his boots on the table. “Kinda famous around here.”

  Orlando glanced
at his friend, then back at Mariana. “How are you feeling?”

  “My ankle is much better.” She faced Hamneth and curtsied. “I believe I have you to thank for that, Doctor.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head toward her. “I’m no doctor. Just a simple man with some knowledge of herbs.”

  Orlando scowled as he saw the older man blush. Hamneth was old enough to be his father and had buried two wives. Surely this skinny royal didn’t raise the old man’s blood.

  “Well, you have much skill,” she said, “and I thank you.” She approached the table. Her valise still sat in the middle of it where Orlando had placed it the night before.

  She glanced at it for a moment then back at her host. “I’m afraid I deprived you of your bed last night, Orlando of Talla.” Her eyes returned to the valise. “May I have my belongings?”

  “Of course.” Traren kicked the bag toward her, and the sound of coins was unmistakable.

  “You travel with a lot of money,” he said, not raising his eyes as he took a sip from the mug of coffee he held.

  She glanced from one man to another, her face turning a deeper shade of red than Hamneth’s. “I don’t know how long I’ll be traveling.” She reached for the bag.

  “Lots of jewelry.”

  Mariana scowled at Traren, and Orlando saw her eyes change from the spring green they had been to a deeper shade. Perhaps the little Progenna had more of a temper in her than he’d suspected.

  How was it she was unaware of the power she possessed?

  The girl fingered the handles of her bag. She wore a pair of white fabric gloves this morning. “I’ll know why you were all looking through my personal belongings.” This was said with the imperious air of one raised in the palace. Orlando stepped to the table.

  “The bag was open,” he said. “I guess when you fell you must have loosened the straps. No one searched it. We didn’t need to. The contents are clearly visible.”

  “Guess you were lucky it was Lando found you instead of one of those fearsome rebels we hear so much about.” Traren still didn’t look at her, focusing instead on his mug.