by Jody Hedlund
Grandfather held out a shaking hand. I grasped it and bent to place a kiss upon his knotted knuckles. Instead of allowing me the kiss, he pulled me forward with surprising strength and wrapped both arms around me in an embrace as hard as the ones he’d always given me as a boy.
I hugged him back, letting the years slip away, letting my love for him swell until my throat ached.
When he finally released me, his cheeks were wet and his eyes bright. “Now, shall we have a wedding?”
I wasn’t sure what the appropriate course of action was in our situation. I’d just been reunited with my grandfather, and I wanted to spend time with him. And yet, I also didn’t want to put off marrying Maribel another day.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, my grandfather smiled and took a step back. “I can think of no greater joy than to watch my grandson get married. I never believed I would see you alive again. And now, here I am, standing with you and witnessing your wedding. If I die tomorrow, I will be a satisfied man.”
“Let us not talk of death,” I urged.
“You need not fear, Edmund,” Maribel said. “I shall not allow your grandfather to become even the slightest bit ill. If I have my way, he will live for many, many years.”
At Maribel’s sweet expression, her earnest eyes, and the love there just for me, I was overwhelmed with gratefulness. I’d lost so much long ago, but I’d gained even more through the adversity I’d endured.
Christopher led Grandfather to the spot next to me, ceding his place of honor. Grandfather seemed to stand taller, and pride shone from his eyes.
As Christopher positioned himself on the opposite side of Grandfather, the queen smiled. “Shall we begin the wedding?”
“I say yes,” Maribel replied, her eyes dancing once more with excitement. She was radiant in her gown. The rich ruby color brought out the blue of her eyes and made her hair shine more golden. Once again, as when I’d first glimpsed her, my mouth went dry with just how beautiful she looked.
If I’d wanted to kiss her all those years she’d worn her drab, colorless habit, I thrummed with the need now that she was alive and vibrant the way she was meant to be. My gaze dropped to her smiling lips, to the delicate curves, to the memory of the forbidden kisses we’d shared in the labyrinth.
Starting today, I’d get to kiss her as much as I pleased and for as long as I wanted. The thought burned through me so that I couldn’t keep myself from reaching for her waist and drawing her near.
“If Your Majesty will permit it,” I said to the queen, “I would like to adjust the order of the service just slightly.”
“How so?” Adelaide answered.
“If I may,” I said, dipping toward Maribel, “I’d like to kiss my bride first rather than last.”
Without waiting for permission, I bent in and touched my lips to Maribel’s. The tender clinging pressure was my promise that from this day forward, I would love and cherish her foremost, till death parted us.
At the gentle return pressure of her lips, I knew she was promising me the same.
Chapter
25
King Ethelwulf
“You allowed Princess Constance and Princess Maribel to escape.” I spat at the two soldiers lying on the dungeon floor.
“We tried, Your Majesty,” croaked one of the men through cracked, dried lips. He attempted to sit up, but he was too injured and weak to make it higher than his elbows. “But somehow they learned of our ambush and were prepared when we attacked.”
Inwardly, I seethed at the stupidity and failure of my elite guard. I’d already questioned other surviving soldiers and discovered most of what had happened before I’d sentenced them to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Yet, an insatiable need for more information drove me to the dungeons again.
Several servants holding torches stood by with burning incense pots to cover the stench of decay and the rancidness of bodily waste. Even so, I had to breathe through my mouth in order not to gag.
“And what exactly happened to Captain Theobald?” I demanded.
“He was injured and killed, Your Majesty,” said the other guard, whose wounded arm had putrefied. “We found his body ravaged by wild animals.”
I shook my head at the captain’s ineptness. He was fortunate he’d died. After failing me one too many times, I would have hanged, drawn, and quartered him too. I didn’t care that the man had served me well in my early campaigns to regain Mercia. He’d failed me now when it mattered most.
At the very least, I could give him credit for following Princess Maribel to the labyrinth. The discovery had been monumental. I hadn’t known the extensive network of tunnels in the Highlands existed. After speaking with my trusted advisors, we’d concurred that Solomon’s hidden treasure was likely there. But the caverns and patterns of the labyrinth were so extensive, and the traps so deadly, none of the soldiers who’d gone down had come back alive.
Instead of losing more men, I’d decided to have my scholars attempt to discover a map or more information regarding the labyrinth. While they’d uncovered mentions of labyrinths and mazes in fables in other countries, they’d found nothing substantive about a real one here in Mercia, mainly speculations that had been passed on among the elite guard regiments.
I’d almost begun to believe someone had purposefully destroyed every manuscript containing evidence or clues regarding the labyrinth, perhaps with the hope of erasing the memory of it from history.
Nevertheless, I’d tasked the scholars to keep searching, sending them out to confiscate each history book they could find. Even if they succeeded in compiling more information, my closest advisors had reminded me we only had one key, and we’d likely need the other two in order to unlock any hidden treasure we might find.
That made the loss of Princess Maribel all the more frustrating. I’d been counting on getting her key to add to my collection. And now apparently Princess Maribel was in Norland within the safety of Brechness. I’d even heard rumors over the past day that she’d single-handedly stopped the spread of the pestilence and saved the army. I’d also heard she’d married a young nobleman from Mercia, Lord Chambers.
“Did the princesses tend your wounds?” I asked, although I already knew from questioning the others yesterday that only these two had refused treatment—at least of the men who’d lived until another detachment of knights had arrived.
“No, Your Majesty,” said one of the men gruffly. “We didn’t let them touch us. We would rather have died than betray you.”
The damage was already done, however. Word had spread quickly that the lost princesses had worked together to bind the wounds and provide relief to my soldiers. I had to give Princess Constance credit. She was perceptive, using her sister’s compassion to draw on the emotions of the rest of the people. As it turned out, she and Princess Maribel were being lauded as angels for their selfless conduct.
Princess Constance was not only endearing herself to my people, but she was gaining more loyalty every day. I had few noblemen I could truly trust, mostly those who could be bribed. If she kept winning favor, she would face little resistance when she invaded and would likely be able to march all the way into Delsworth.
Unless, of course, I could find the third lost princess first.
“Rex,” I bellowed.
Near the stairway, my oldest son shoved away from the wall and stalked out of the shadows. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The light of the flickering torches heightened his massive size, his thick arms and torso. It emphasized his broad shoulders and strong hands which could snap a man’s neck in two pieces as easily as a chicken bone. At twenty, he was handsome with fair hair like his mother’s. He wore it in tight warrior braids, along with the black chain mail and cloak of my elite guard.
I saw the way the young noblewomen looked at him as if he were a prize to be won. I noticed the way my courtiers flaunted their daughters in the hope of catching his attention. So far, since his arrival in Delsworth, Ethelrex had taken more intere
st in his warrior training than he had in women. But it was time for that to change.
“I have given you command over my elite guard in place of Theobald.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed, the menagerie of weapons at his belt clinking ominously.
“As commander, you must take up the quest to find the final lost princess.”
“Very well, Your Majesty.” Although Rex kept his voice from showing his emotion, I sensed his anticipation and knew he would relish the opportunity to prove himself, especially since I hadn’t allowed him to participate in any of Theobald’s missions over the past months.
I’d done my best to protect Rex these many years from rebels and dissenters who might plot to murder him. I’d even gone so far as to send him back to the safety of the royal residence in Warwick where he’d spent his childhood and youth being educated and trained by the best knights and scholars in all the isle.
However, now with the threat of rebellion growing stronger, I’d decided it was time for him to come to my aid. He was no longer a young boy needing my protection. Rather he’d become a force of contention, someone to be feared, a warrior fiercer than Theobald.
“I shall do whatever you ask, Your Majesty,” he said.
I nodded at him curtly. “At least Theobald proved useful in wresting information from the Highland Convent abbess. The third princess is named Emmeline, and she is somewhere in Inglewood Forest.”
We’d hoped to follow Sister Katherine once again to the princess, but she’d all but disappeared after leading us to Princess Maribel. Since then, not even my strongest trackers had been able to pick up her scent.
“You must find Princess Emmeline,” I said severely, hoping to emphasize the serious nature of the mission. “I do not need to remind you of the gravity of our predicament if you should fail me.”
Rex dropped to one knee before me. “I vow I shall not return without her.” He reached for my hand and kissed it three times as was the custom when making a vow. In the darkness of the dungeons, my royal onyx ring gleamed even blacker, but he seemed not to notice or crave it.
“When you find her,” I said, having faith that my son would do as he pledged, “you must not let any harm come to her.”
“Very well,” he said. “I shall guard her myself.”
I smiled. He would be doing much more than guarding her. “You must take Father Patrick and marry her the moment you have her in your possession.”
Though I sensed he would rather put off marriage for a while, he was an obedient son. He bowed his head in acknowledgment of my order. “Shall I leave at first light?”
“There is no need to wait.” I strode past him toward the stairs, having had enough of the stale dungeons. “You may leave as soon as you are packed.”
“Very well, Your Majesty.”
I stopped at the bottom of the steps. “And take Magnus. He is in need of additional discipline.”
My younger son had too much free time at court and wasted it with women. I regretted now having neglected to send him to Warwick for the same education and training as Rex.
“I fear he may slow us down.” Rex’s statement was respectful, but I could sense the irritation he harbored toward his brother.
“I trust you will find a way to keep him in line, just as you do with your soldiers.”
Rex inclined his head in acceptance of my answer. He would do as I asked whether he liked it or not. Taking Magnus would make his quest more difficult. But it would also force him to learn how to control his brother—a skill, among many, he would need in the future.
“Oh, and when you find the princess, you must make sure you retrieve her key. It is of vital importance I have the key.”
Again Rex bowed.
As I ascended the dungeon steps, I wondered why I had not thought to send Rex sooner. He was determined and trustworthy. If anyone could find the princess and the key, I had faith my son would.
Hereafter Contents
Half-Title
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter
1
Emmeline
I brushed my hand over the crushed grass and examined the nearly invisible footprint beneath. Only a pace away, a broken twig and a patch of flattened bellflowers confirmed my suspicion. A stranger had made it past the ravine and was quite possibly still lingering.
My chest tightened, squeezing the air from my lungs and forcing me to stand. I scanned the thick woodland and brush, picturing soldiers in black chain mail converging upon me.
The late afternoon sun tried to penetrate the leafy ceiling, but only a handful of dappled rays filtered through. With the recent summer rain, vibrant moss stretched lazily up tall oaks, hazel, and birch, while pale lichen drooped from branches. A badger peeked out from among the nettles and elder, and a purple emperor butterfly hovered over a nearby pile of deer dung.
As far as I could see, everything was as it ought to be. I sniffed the air, catching only the usual smoky remnant of burning charcoal. I heard nothing but the quick trilling chirps of a pair of hawfinches, the intermittent buzz of cicadas, and the breeze rustling the treetops.
At the nudge of a wet nose against my hand, I released a breath and scratched Bede’s pointed snout. “Whoever was here isn’t any longer.” Otherwise, my ever-vigilant red fox wouldn’t be so relaxed. I could always count on the little creature’s sharp instincts to alert me to danger when my own senses failed to pick it up.
Still, I needed to follow the intruder’s trail for a short distance and attempt to discover who had come so far into the forest, and why, especially since so few crossed the ravine. My father would expect me to study the details and figure it out. He’d spent years preparing me for such things—teaching me every skill he knew about tracking, hiding, hunting, weaponry, and more.
With a stealth and lightness he’d beseeched me to perfect, I followed the trail several additional steps before halting. Shivers crawled over my skin at the prospect of someone lying in wait for me ahead in the brush. “Maybe we should go home.”
Bede watched me, his head cocked, his tongue lolling with a slight pant.
“Mother will be expecting me to be back on time today.”
The fox’s pointed ears flickered, but otherwise his attention didn’t waver.
“And Father will be home soon. I don’t want to miss his arrival.” He’d been gone for over a week, taking our recent batch of charcoal to one of the West Moorland villages to sell for provisions.
He’d promised to return by today, and I’d been waiting with mounting anticipation, knowing he’d bring me a gift as he did every summer on the day we remembered my birth. He and Mother always skimped and sacrificed for many a fortnight in order to make the purchase. And I loved them all the more for it.
At the crack of a branch to my left, I dodged behind the nearest tree. It happened to be a young beech. Though I was thin and petite, the tree’s diameter wouldn’t hide me for long, even if my dark hair, breeches, and shirt blended into the surroundings.
As nimbly as a squirrel, I scrambled up the branches and disappeared into the foliage. From my high perch, I surveyed the forest below.
Bede rose onto his hind legs, braced his front paws on the trunk, and peered up at me. He wagged his tail and
let out a short yip.
“No, Bede,” I whispered, glancing around, waiting for someone to jump out.
The fox pawed at the tree as though attempting to climb. His ears perked expectantly, and he let out a soft whine.
“Quiet, Bede! Go hide.”
Just then a raccoon poked its nose through the brush. The fox spared the masked culprit a glance before dropping down and lifting his face to stare at me, his mouth curling up almost as if he were laughing.
He had every right to ridicule me. I was letting my anxiety get the best of me. If a true threat had approached, Bede would have warned me long in advance. Even so, my heart pounded out an ominous rhythm, and my body tensed in anticipation of an arrow or knife embedding my chest.
In my nightmares, I always died one way or the other, usually unexpectedly, while I was hiding.
After a minute of waiting in which Bede simply stood, staring at me, I reached out trembling hands to begin my descent. I needed to return home. I’d be safe there. And when Father came back from the market, he’d have a logical explanation for a stranger’s footprints in this part of the forest, in the depths of the woodland where we rarely had visitors.
I hopped to the ground, took a final look around, and then started off. As I leaped over windfall and ducked under low branches, my pouch thumped against my hip. I pressed it firmly, the outline of the small leather-bound book inside reassuring me of its safety. I’d already read the historical chronicle countless times, but I never tired of starting anew and had spent the afternoon high in my favorite oak tree doing just that.
My fingers also brushed against the familiar form of the key I always carried, along with a smaller lump at the bottom of the pouch—the ruby signifying my true identity. An identity my parents never let me forget.
“You are Princess Emmeline,” my mother had reminded me often, “of the house of Mercia, the daughter of King Francis and Queen Dierdal.”