The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

  “Then you still have never considered leaving?”

  “Why would I? You’re here.” He shifted as if his admission embarrassed him.

  “Surely you would be glad to leave behind all my escapades.”

  “Who would get you out of trouble, if not me?”

  I laughed lightly. “Truly. I would be lost if not for you.”

  “Then you see, I can never leave you.”

  “But after I take my vows, I shall not need so much rescuing.” I wouldn’t need any rescuing. I’d finally have to settle down and become serious, devoting myself to a life of quiet and solitude expected of nuns.

  “You don’t have to take the vows.” The earnestness of his tone surprised me.

  I turned to face him, wanting to read his expression and his eyes. But he stared straight ahead, providing only his strong profile to study. “I have always believed I would become a nun when I come of age. You know that.”

  The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Maybe you’d be happier doing something else.”

  I’d never considered anything but being a nun. After watching Sister Agnes work as a physician and learning everything from her, I’d assumed I’d follow in her footsteps and become the convent physician. Already the nuns looked to me for medical treatment and sought out my remedies for their ailments.

  “I cannot think of anything else I would be happier doing,” I responded. “Besides, I have nowhere to go—no family, no friends who would take me in. This place is all I have.”

  He pivoted to face me, the angular lines in his expression drawn taut, his eyes more intense than usual. “I’d take care of you.”

  For a moment, I sensed something deeper, something different in his declaration that went beyond the bounds of our friendship. But before I could question him, his attention shifted beyond me, and he stiffened, his dagger out of its sheath and wielded before I could blink.

  “Move behind me very slowly.” His voice was low and urgent.

  I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder, and I sucked in a sharp breath at what I saw. There, less than two dozen paces away, a cougar crouched low, its bright-gold eyes riveted on me. It was thin and mangy, every rib evident beneath its lusterless winter coat.

  “Now, Maribel.” Edmund grabbed my arm and shoved me behind him.

  The cougar snarled, revealing its sharp incisors, which it clearly intended to sink into one of us for a long-overdue meal.

  Edmund snarled back and then released a low growl with a guttural call. The cougar’s hungry eyes shifted to Edmund. It responded with a rumble in the same guttural language. I wanted to ask Edmund to interpret the communication. But his fingers only tightened and positioned me more securely behind him, which told me the conversation with the cougar wasn’t going well.

  The beast was likely too hungry for Edmund to reason with. Although summer and autumn had provided a bountiful crop and had brought an end to the drought that had plagued Mercia, the population of game in the Highlands was still low. And after a winter of having so little to scavenge, this cougar was desperate.

  Edmund released a sharp, piercing whistle and then thrust his knife at the cougar. He hated to injure or kill the wild beasts that roamed the Highlands, even the most dangerous. He preferred to reason with them first. But sometimes he failed and had to resort to violence.

  “Sheba is coming for you.” He moved again, keeping himself between the cougar and me.

  I glanced to the low clouds, watching for the eagle’s appearance. “What about you?”

  He crouched lower into a fighting position as Wade had trained him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I do not want to leave you behind.”

  “I’ll defeat him easier without you here.”

  Before I could formulate a retort, Sheba’s cry warned me of her approach, and I braced myself for her impact. Her wingspan was over six and a half feet in length, longer than Edmund’s height. Her talons were larger than bear claws. And now that she was full-grown, her body weight equaled that of a boy.

  The brush of wings and wind was rapidly followed by the pinch of her talons around my upper arms. In an instant, my feet lifted from the ground and I was airborne. I gritted against the pain of her claws, thankful for my heavy cloak and habit that provided some padding, but knew I’d suffer welts from her hold.

  I could feel her strain to lift me. At five feet six inches, I was slight and slender, but even so, Sheba was accustomed to carrying the lighter weight of hares, raccoons, and sometimes foxes. She had borne me before during the few times I’d given in to Edmund’s requests to provide the eagle the practice. But she’d never carried me far and never for long.

  As Sheba ascended above Edmund, the cold January wind swirled my cloak and habit, crawling underneath and sending chills up my legs. At the same moment Sheba spirited me upward, the cougar pounced upon Edmund.

  My heart leaped up and lodged in my throat, rendering my scream silent. Thankfully, Edmund’s reflexes were honed, and he dodged the advance, running his blade across the cougar’s flank. Even from several dozen feet above, I could see the line of crimson forming across the cat’s body. It released a pained screech. And Edmund responded with another guttural call.

  Sheba’s wings flapped furiously until my feet bumped against an outcropping of rock, and I realized she was depositing me upon the flat surface of a tall boulder too high for the cougar to scale. As the leather soles of my boots came into contact with the stone, she released her grip. I’d not yet perfected a graceful landing, and the momentum sent me to my knees in a painful crash.

  Sheba shrieked and flapped away. I wished I knew her language so I could ask her to assist Edmund. Instead, she surged into the air and circled above us, looking down as Edmund spread his feet and held out his knife, readying himself for another attack.

  For several long minutes, Edmund and the cougar faced off, but it didn’t lunge again, apparently too weak and hungry to use its agility and strength to its advantage. Edmund held himself steady until the cougar slunk away, sensing defeat.

  Only after the cat disappeared down the mountain, did Edmund turn and look at me, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Are you all right?”

  “I fare well.” I rolled my arms to ease the ache from Sheba’s talons. “And you?”

  “Not a scratch. But I can’t say as much for the poor creature. If only it would have listened to reason.”

  “Will it die?”

  “Probably.” Edmund’s pained expression revealed his abhorrence at the prospect of the cougar’s death, whether from wounds or from starvation. But Fera Agmen, as skilled as they were, had limits as to how much they could influence an animal’s behavior.

  Edmund whistled, and within seconds Sheba ceased her circling and began to swoop toward me. I rose and straightened my shoulders. At that moment, I felt as though I stood on the highest point of the Highlands. I could see, for a league in all directions, the barrenness of the mountainous table. Its desolateness spread out before me, icy, jagged, and lonely.

  So lonely . . .

  A movement by a distant crag at the eastern ravine snagged my attention. My breath caught as a figure in a hooded black cloak stepped out from behind the rock. The person was too far away to distinguish. But from the pointed way he stared in my direction, I knew he’d clearly seen me.

  I considered dropping to my belly and attempting to hide, but Sheba’s talons clamped around my upper arms again. In one easy motion, she propelled me down until my feet touched the ground in front of Edmund. His hands reached for my waist, steadying me and keeping me upright.

  As Sheba flapped her large wings upward and away, all I could picture was the black-cloaked figure. The very thought that we’d been discovered after years of secrecy turned my blood to ice.

  “We have to return to the caves.” I broke from Edmund and began to scramble up the hill.

  “The cougar won’t come back today.”

  My heartbeat drummed at double speed. “So
meone is here and saw me upon the rock.”

  The rapid crunch of gravel behind me told me Edmund sensed the urgency of our situation. “What direction?”

  “To the southeast. Down near the ravine.”

  “How many did you see?”

  “Just one. But there could be others in hiding.”

  “Was it a soldier?”

  “He was wearing a black cloak.” I grasped a rock ahead for leverage, and my fingers trembled within my mittens. Everyone knew King Ethelwulf’s elite guard wore black. And if the figure belonged to the king’s specially trained soldiers, then we weren’t safe. Not in the least.

  Chapter

  2

  Edmund

  “We need to get the women into hiding,” I called to Wade as I entered the enclosed forge.

  In front of his anvil, Wade’s hammer froze in midair. The light from the blazing charcoal stove broke the darkness of the windowless cave and made the sweat on his face and bald head shine. The room was warm even in the depths of winter and caused my frozen fingers and toes to tingle with the thawing they needed.

  As a former elite guard during the days of King Francis’s reign, Wade had been one of the fittest, strongest, and fiercest warriors in all of Mercia. His bulky frame hadn’t changed much over the years. He was still nearly as strong and well-built as the day he’d pulled me out from behind the barrel where my father had shoved me on the way to our execution.

  “We have no time to waste.” I grabbed my sword from the ladder-like hooks on the wall where we kept the weapons we’d forged.

  If my order regarding hiding the women was shocking, my willing retrieval of my sword must have been even more so, for Wade took a step back from the anvil. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, lad?”

  Although I had to disclose the truth sooner rather than later, I hesitated. I never liked disappointing Wade. But what was done couldn’t be undone, no matter how I might wish it. “During our excursion, Maribel spotted a man in a black cloak.”

  Wade’s glistening muscles visibly tensed. “Please assure me you didn’t let him see the two of you.”

  I wanted to drop my head in disgrace, but I refrained. I wasn’t a little boy anymore, even if I had broken all the rules today. The truth was it was getting harder for me to say no to anything Maribel asked of me. And this wasn’t the first time I’d gone along with her schemes and taken risks in being seen.

  Sensing my unspoken answer, Wade tossed his hammer down with a clatter and strode to the sword rack. “I hope you at least covered your tracks.”

  I twisted my sword aimlessly. “I was in a hurry to get Maribel back.”

  He stopped short, and his dark, bushy brows came together in a glare—a glare I’d oft earned over the years. He couldn’t fault himself that I hadn’t become the warrior he’d expected. He’d tried hard to train me as he’d once been trained. But I hadn’t been able to physically accomplish the feats or endure the rigors required of an elite guard.

  While I was grateful for the many skills Wade had given me, I’d long since realized my strengths were different from his. I felt no shame in the man I’d become. And I think Wade mostly accepted me for who I was now too.

  But there were times, like now, when I knew he wished I was more like him.

  With a shake of his head, he quickly donned his chain mail and then his belt, all the while muttering under his breath. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he barked at me finally. “Arm yourself.”

  I did as he said and within minutes was prepared to fight. The two of us together would be able to hold off any invaders for a short while, at least until the women had sufficient time to hide.

  Our weapons clanked against our chain mail as we ducked into the main tunnel that connected the various areas of the convent. Torchlight down the corridor revealed Maribel already going from room to room and whispering instructions for the nuns to follow her.

  “Oh, Edmund.” Colette glided away from the others and approached me, her sweet face puckered with worry. “Maribel said we may have an unwanted visitor and that we need to take precautions and hide.”

  “Until we know we’re safe.” My gaze strayed to Maribel. She’d tossed back her hood, revealing the silky blond hair she always wore in a single plait down her back. I dreaded the day she would cut it all off, not just because she would shear her beautiful hair as was required of nuns but because she would be cut off to me forever.

  The day she took her vows was the day I would lose her. Never again would I be able to spend time alone with her or talk to her or go on outings like we had today. Never again would I get to make her laugh or make her happy.

  Maribel slipped her arm around the stooped back of the oldest nun, Sister Margaret, and gently led her. As she turned to hand the torch to the nun following them, I glimpsed her heart-shaped face, her cheeks pink from the cold mountain air, her blue eyes so bright, and her perfect lips uttering whispered words of encouragement.

  There were times when I couldn’t seem to get enough of her, when her loveliness seized my heart into a tight grip and wouldn’t let go.

  Colette wrapped her arm through mine, gaining my attention once more. “I want to stay with you, Edmund.” She peered up at me with a trust and devotion I wasn’t sure I deserved. “Please, I would feel much safer with you.”

  Wade snorted and strode ahead, leaving me behind with Colette. I loved Colette like a sister, but sometimes—especially in recent months—I’d found myself irritated by her growing clinginess. Like now.

  I pried her arm out of mine. For a young woman as short and petite as her, she had surprising strength and didn’t release me easily. “If Wade and I have to fight off any intruders, you’ll be safer in the hidden caverns.”

  Her eyes widened. “Do you think we shall have fighting?”

  I bit back a groan. I shouldn’t have mentioned the possibility. Now Colette would be even more frightened. “Go on.” I maneuvered her toward the sisters. “You must stay with the women.”

  She reluctantly joined the others but cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at me. I nodded at her in encouragement, and thankfully she continued on her way. Her appearance and bearing couldn’t have been more different than Maribel’s. The two were as dissimilar as an eagle and a mouse. Nevertheless, their friendship had always been strong, mostly because Maribel was easy to be with.

  I gave myself one last look at Maribel before sprinting the opposite way. When I caught up with Wade, he was already at the cave entrance.

  He raised a brow at me. “You should just ask that poor girl to marry you and put her out of her misery.”

  The comment, though slung in jest, threw me off guard. “Marry her?”

  “Aye, you’re old enough to get married now.”

  I couldn’t think of a response. As one of the king’s elite warriors, Wade had never considered marrying, having pledged celibacy. I’d assumed he’d expected the same of me.

  “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” He hefted the stone doorway and rolled it slightly open.

  Had I considered it? I suppose in some part of my mind I’d harbored hope she’d decide not to take her vows, that we could stay as we were, that I wouldn’t lose her. I’d even contemplated the possibility that I’d take care of her and protect her. But marry her? I shook my head. She’d never agree to it.

  Would she?

  My heart gave an extra thump at the thought. “Do you think she’d want to marry me?”

  Wade snorted again. “Of course she would. She can never do anything without coming to you first.”

  Now it was my turn to snort. “Maribel? Hardly. She’s got a mind of her own.”

  Wade paused in his effort to open the door and studied my face. “I wasn’t referring to Maribel. I was talking about Colette.”

  “Oh.” Under Wade’s scrutiny, I felt myself grow warm. To hide my embarrassment, I dropped my shoulder against the stone door and added my muscles to his effort. Within second
s, the door slid open, and frigid mountain air engulfed us.

  Thankfully, Wade’s attention shifted to the landscape. He was too alert to the danger in our situation to say anything more about my marriage prospects. He scrutinized every detail of the crags surrounding the entrance. The large boulders rose out of the ground all around, making the area difficult to traverse. Wade motioned to me. “You scout the east side, and I’ll scout the west.”

  I nodded and then followed Wade’s lead, crouching low and darting behind the nearest boulder. We split ways, and I scurried behind outcroppings, attempting to assess whether King Ethelwulf’s men had pursued our trail up the mountain. I earnestly prayed they hadn’t, but I also realized the king had Fera Agmen working for him training wolves and dogs to sniff just about any scent. If he’d sent such animals, they’d soon discover our whereabouts.

  As I moved along the ridge, I considered calling Sheba. I’d sent her away once Maribel and I had reached the convent. I could use her as my eyes to scout from the sky. And as a loyal and true friend, she’d willingly do just about anything I asked of her. But I hesitated, not sure I wanted to put her in harm’s way.

  From the opposite rim of our mountain home, Wade motioned in the warrior sign language he’d taught me. His message was clear: he’d spotted someone. But only one person.

  We both sat silently in the cold, waiting, attempting to gauge if our visitor was truly alone or only the forefront of a much larger contingent.

  Finally, Wade signed again, this time conveying that the person had given the secret hand signal for St. Anne’s.

  St. Anne’s?

  Of course Wade would know the signal. King Francis’s elite guards had been trained in more than just fighting. They’d memorized maps, routes, secret hideaways, tunnels, and anything that could be useful in the defense of king and country. In addition to the elite guards, the only other people who knew the secret hand signal for St. Anne’s Convent were nuns who’d once lived there before moving to the Highland caves and calling it the Highland Convent.