The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

  After today, I could only pray the citizens of Mercia would stand strong against Adelaide’s encroaching army and refuse to welcome her.

  “Rex?” Emmeline’s whisper was near the edge of the bed.

  I glanced up through the dark to see the outline of her face peering down. “Yes?”

  “Are you asleep?” she asked.

  “Very much so.”

  She paused. “No, you’re not.”

  I was tempted to tell her I probably wouldn’t get any sleep this night or in the nights to come so long as I lay this near to her, but I bit the comment back.

  “Will you show me the scriptorium soon?”

  “I shall if it would please you.”

  “I’d like to know what you’ve read and recommend.”

  “I have not read nearly enough,” I admitted. “But I may be able to suggest a few manuscripts.”

  She released what could only be described as a happy sigh.

  For a reason I couldn’t begin to explain, her happiness filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction. During all those months of searching for the princess, I hadn’t known what to expect from her, hadn’t known whether I’d even like her, had resigned myself to the marriage no matter what. I’d never dreamed my feelings for this woman could develop so strongly and quickly.

  “Do you remember what your life was like here in the castle when you were a little boy? Before you were sent away to Warwick?”

  Was that a note of wistfulness in her question? Was she wondering what her own life might have been like if she’d lived here with her family—the family my father had destroyed?

  Something pricked at the back of my conscience, something akin to guilt.

  I’d been but a young lad when the king had started his military campaign to reunite Mercia and Warwick into one country as it had been under Alfred the Peacemaker long ago. With the king’s own army along with hired mercenaries, the battle for Mercia had been fierce but quick.

  Only after he’d assured his place on the throne of the unified kingdom of Bryttania had he sent for his family. I’d arrived in Delsworth with my mother and the newly-birthed Magnus. Even though I didn’t remember much about those early years, I had the vague recollection of the king’s anger when he’d learned of plots to bring about my demise. He’d then sent me back to Warwick, away from the trouble, and there I’d remained in seclusion for most of my life.

  While growing up, I’d always assumed the king had every right to take the throne of Mercia away from King Francis and his descendants. My father claimed King Alfred never should have split the country between his twin daughters, that he should have given the kingdom to the older twin, Margery.

  But everything I’d read and learned about Queen Margery had proven her to be a cruel and selfish woman. Perhaps King Alfred had seen those traits within his older twin daughter and had decided she wouldn’t make a good leader. Perhaps he’d thought she only deserved half the kingdom.

  There was no denying that Queen Margery’s inheritance—Warwick to the south of Mercia—had suffered and fallen into decline. Margery had demanded much of her subjects and had given very little to them in return.

  Her son, King Ethelbard, had lived lavishly, too, continuing to drain the country known for its rich jewels, until nothing had remained. Trade and commerce had all but ceased, the people had suffered extreme poverty, and the land had become barren and depleted.

  When my father came to the throne, he inherited a kingdom in shambles and disarray. Since he belonged to a lineage of fierce warriors on his father’s side, he did what he knew best—he fought.

  Within several years, he’d amassed a strong force and had begun attacking Mercia’s southern borders. Facing the vast Inglewood Forest serving as Mercia’s natural defense, my father had finally changed tactics. He’d sold off the royal family’s remaining jewels and hired the seafaring Danes as well as the lethal Saracens, and then he’d sailed to Delsworth, the stately capital of the old kingdom and the main residence of King Francis.

  During the Battle of Delsworth, King Francis had been fatally wounded. His wife, Queen Dierdal, had died giving birth to Emmeline and her twin sister. It had been rumored that servants had escaped with the princesses. But for years afterward, no one had known what had really become of the princesses—whether they’d lived or died.

  What would my father have done to the three princesses if he’d captured them? No doubt he would have executed them as he’d done with many others in an effort to solidify his reign.

  I’d never concerned myself with the fate of the lost princesses before, never cared, never believed they mattered. My mentor, Lord Kennard, had fully supported the king’s rule over the united kingdom and had done everything within his power to ensure I was ready to assume leadership one day. He’d certainly never given credence to the rights of the displaced princesses, had always taught me that I’d become the next ruler, and had assured me I’d make a great king.

  But now that one of the princesses was my bride, this battle between the two houses over Mercia’s throne had grown much more personal. And I realized I hated the idea that the king might have killed Emmeline or her sisters. Even now, he still considered Emmeline his enemy, though she was my wife, and that thought filled me with unease.

  “Tell me what you were like as a little boy,” Emmeline said softly, bringing me out of my reverie to focus on her again. “I should like to hear about your naughtiest escapades.”

  “All? They are so numerous my tales would keep you awake the whole night long.”

  “I don’t mind.” Again her voice was happy.

  “Very well. But I shall only tell one of my naughty deeds at the telling of one of your own.”

  “I was never naughty.”

  I chuckled.

  “Not purposefully,” she added with a breathless laugh.

  Pushing aside my concerns, I settled back, crossed my arms behind my head, and let the satisfaction of the moment surround me. I had a feeling the night would go much too fast, but then reminded myself that tonight was only the beginning. We had forever together.

  Chapter

  13

  Rex

  I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes wearily. From the fading daylight outside the open windows of the antechamber, I guessed the hour to be drawing nigh to supper. With the lengthening shadows across the stuffy room, servants had already lit the wall sconces and candelabrum.

  A dozen other men were seated with me and the king around the long oaken table. Their lined foreheads and heavy eyelids attested to their weariness as well. If I called an end to the meeting, they’d surely agree to it.

  But they’d also see it as a sign of weakness on my part and rightly conclude I was more interested in seeing my wife than I was in supping.

  Unavoidably, the days following our wedding had proven to be busy. With the impending siege from Queen Adelaide Constance, townspeople and castle staff were frantically stocking up on supplies while I oversaw the defense of both the town and castle.

  I’d spent hours in urgent meetings with advisors and military leaders devising a strategy on the best way to protect Delsworth. I’d confirmed we had the necessary weapons and manpower. And I’d toured the walls and ramparts, making sure everything was in order.

  By the time I was able to retire at night, the hour was well past midnight, and I was too exhausted to visit with Emmeline. Although I’d promised her I’d show her the scriptorium, I’d quickly realized our time together would have to wait.

  Just that morning, I managed one brief break to stroll in the garden with her and the new puppy. With the queen’s rebel forces having made landfall at dawn, I could spare no more than a few minutes, enough to answer her worried questions about the siege and to assure her I was doing what I could to work toward a peaceful resolution.

  “We must dispatch word to the Danes,” the king was saying again from his position at the head of the table. “If we can get a messenger through to them of ou
r need for aid, they will be here within a week.”

  I toyed with the goblet in front of me. Already we’d discussed the various options. I wanted to send a delegation to the queen and attempt to persuade her to accept Emmeline’s place in the new royal lineage for the House of Mercia. Perhaps then we could avoid a war.

  Yet, I was afraid the queen wouldn’t be swayed. She must have received word of our marriage by now. But even with the news, her army, along with Norland’s, were coming ashore and making camp southwest of the city along the banks of the Cress River.

  Most of the advisors, including the king, concluded that war was inevitable and favored seeking the assistance of the Danes. If we couldn’t negotiate peace, then having the help of the sea-faring warriors was our next best alternative. We needed to instruct them to surround and attack the foreign ships, drawing the queen’s forces away from the town. Then, once the rebels were distracted, we would be able to launch our own onslaught.

  While the plan was sound, there was one major problem: the kingdom’s coffers were empty, and we had no way to pay mercenaries to come to our aid.

  Since I wasn’t involved in the financial decisions the king made, I didn’t have full knowledge of how our steward managed affairs. But I hadn’t been surprised when the king had ordered another increase in taxes earlier in the year.

  Of course, the king had called upon his elite guards to keep the peace by locking away the most violent and vocal of the protestors. We’d had to make examples of some who refused to pay. After all, citizens had to understand their taxes helped secure the defense and well-being of their nation. The taxes were for the common good of all.

  However, even with the increase in taxes, the coffers were still empty. And now, when we were faced with the rebel army, we had no financial reserves to add to our fortification. I wanted to question why we were in such dire financial straits, especially after making the people suffer through higher taxes. But this wasn’t the time to bring up such a query.

  “Your Majesty,” said one of the king’s oldest and most loyal advisors. “We all agree that getting word to the Danes is the best solution. But will they come if they have no guarantee of payment?”

  The king rubbed the pointed tip of his beard, his lips pressed thinly and his brows furrowed dangerously. The king was normally intuitive, quick-thinking, and decisive. But in this case, after hours of meetings, I suspected he was reaching his limit of patience, and he wasn’t an easy man to be around when he was angry.

  He narrowed his eyes upon his advisor. “I charge you to find the payment for the Danes, Dobson, since you are apparently the wise one tonight.”

  The room grew silent, enough so that we could hear distant shouts. Were they from the queen’s army even now advancing upon Delsworth?

  All eyes fell to the table now littered with mugs, bowls, crumbs, and maps. No one dared to look up and meet the king’s gaze. And no one dared to speak, least of all Dobson.

  I straightened and sat forward. Tonight wasn’t the time for the king to unleash his wrath upon his advisors. Tonight we needed to stay unified and find a solution to our monetary woes. And if I could find the treasure, I would have the solution.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, breaking the tense silence. Though the king might lash out at me in anger, he wouldn’t punish me the same way he would the others. The knowledge gave me the liberty to speak more forthrightly, although I’d learned to do so carefully. “Now that we have a map of the Labyrinth of Death, I will take a detachment of my men and go after the ancient treasure.”

  “We still have not confirmed the map’s accuracy,” he replied tersely.

  “I shall have the princess inform me of everything she knows regarding the map.” I’d yet to ask Emmeline how it came to be in her possession, as well as the validity of it. Perhaps I’d feared that bringing it up would disturb the peace between us. But if I planned to use it to navigate the labyrinth, then I needed her to tell me whatever she knew.

  I guessed we could make the trip there and back in under two weeks, especially since we could move swiftly by boat up the Central Cress River to the Iron Hills. From there we’d have a two or three days’ ride into the Highlands to the labyrinth entrance.

  Delsworth could withstand a siege for a fortnight, especially if I put Dante in charge of the army in my absence.

  “Yes,” the king said, some of his anger fading away. “But even if we learn the map is trustworthy, you forget something important: we lack the third key.”

  “Lack of keys has never stopped me from gaining entrance to wherever I want to go.”

  “The lack of the key will stop you this time. You can be sure of it.”

  “Then we shall get the third key.”

  The king met my gaze, his dark eyes sharp. “How?”

  “We shall find out where Queen Adelaide Constance keeps it and steal it from her.” I could sense the advisors watching our interaction, their weariness now dissipating.

  “She likely has it locked away somewhere in Norland for safekeeping.”

  “My guess is that she brought it and hopes to gain the treasure for herself.” If she planned to attack us, she’d certainly try to reclaim the keys and go after the treasure.

  “Then you think she keeps it with her?”

  “We could easily kidnap one of her guards and glean the information from him.”

  The king shook his head. “Even if we discover where she holds it, she will likely have it under heavy guard.”

  “I shall fight them for it.”

  The king was quiet for a long moment. At his new surge of interest, the others around the table had started breathing again.

  “We need a better way,” the king said. “Someone with the ability to go inside and take the key.”

  “A traitor?” I suggested. “One of their own who can be bribed?”

  A commotion outside the antechamber door drew my attention. Already on high alert, my mind cleared and my muscles tensed. Was one of my men bringing an update?

  “No!” came the guard’s voice. “You cannot disturb the king and his men.”

  “I insist on seeing the prince,” came another voice, this one belonging to a woman.

  Emmeline?

  Shoving away from the table, I stood. In three rapid strides, I was at the door and threw it open. The burly soldier that oft served as the king’s bodyguard filled the door frame with feet spread and arms wide, a formidable and impenetrable force. Emmeline stood in front of him, her arms crossed, her shoulders rigid, her eyes heated with fury.

  She was a blazing force, too, and breathtakingly beautiful with her dark hair styled in circular plaits atop her head and a gown of richest green.

  At the sight of me, she lifted her chin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Behind me, I could feel the stares of the men, including the penetrating one from the king. I had no doubt he was silently rebuking me for my wife’s behavior. Mother would never have dreamed of interrupting a meeting and demanding to see him.

  Did I need to reprimand Emmeline? Ought I to chastise her to be more docile? Part of me knew Emmeline would never be quiet and calm and agreeable like my mother, and I didn’t want her to be. I liked her spark and fire and the way she made me feel alive.

  Nevertheless, my backbone stiffened with the need to show the king and his advisors that I was in control of my wife, that I was still a strong man and warrior, and that I wouldn’t be manipulated by the whim of a woman. As the future king, I must demand respect, even from Emmeline.

  “You cannot interrupt my meetings,” I said brusquely, lifting my chin and glaring down at her. “Whatever your concern, it must wait.”

  “This cannot wait.”

  “It must.” I nodded to the guard and began to close the door.

  She pushed forward. “Why didn’t you tell me you captured my parents?”

  I froze. In an instant, a dozen thoughts raced through my mind. The first was denial. I hadn’t captured her parents. Yes, I
’d threatened to go back for them. But out of my desire to show Emmeline mercy, I’d spared Lance and Felicia’s lives.

  The second was realization, and it hit me like icy water against the face. The king had done this behind my back. But why?

  Had he sent out a separate contingent after learning the details from Magnus? Had he considered my decision to free them too lenient? Or had he secured them in order to hold leverage over Emmeline?

  A glance at his face gave me my answer. He’d done it for all those reasons and perhaps more I didn’t yet understand.

  Of course, I’d expected an elite warrior like Lance to chase after Emmline once he’d freed himself. He wouldn’t have had any trouble tracking us. But he most certainly wouldn’t have been able to travel rapidly, not with his crippled leg, not with his wife slowing him down, and not without swift horses. If he’d been captured, then he’d obviously drawn near over the past days, but not far enough to find sanctuary with the queen’s rebels.

  A sliver of frustration pricked me. Lance should have gone directly to the rebel party. He’d surely picked up on their trail too. Why hadn’t he sought their aid? Was he afraid in light of the coming battle, they’d prevent him from attempting to rescue Emmeline?

  At the king’s probing intensity, I kept my expression passive and willed my eyes not to show any irritation.

  “Magnus just told me,” Emmeline said from where the guard was holding her back. “He said they’ve been taken to the dungeons.”

  Of course, Magnus would relish stirring up discord by sharing the news with Emmeline. But why was he privy to the capture when I wasn’t? I should have been the first to hear of something of such importance since it had to do with my wife.

  Perhaps that’s why the king had kept it from me. Perhaps he suspected I’d be weak in areas concerning Emmeline, that my attraction to her would cloud my judgment. Maybe it already had.

  “I have put Magnus in charge of their discipline,” the king said matter-of-factly.