Beguiled (The Fairest Maidens Book 2)

by Jody Hedlund

  I wanted to roar out my pain but held myself back. That would only feed the frenzy for more destruction. Instead, I swiped a metal cylinder in midair and used it to block a sword coming at me from the left.

  Before moving farther into the fray, I passed the knife to Fowler. In that same instant, a mace swung at my head. Thankfully, Gregor deflected the blow with the sword.

  He would have slipped past me to lead the charge, but I regained my balance and lurched ahead, swinging the lead pipe back and forth like a scythe, clearing the way and beating down most of the weapons aimed at me.

  As the end drew nearer, my hand grew slick with blood, and my grip began to weaken. The blood along with the pain in my arm told me I was injured, but I pushed onward for what seemed an eternity until I stumbled out of the gauntlet.

  I wanted to collapse in relief for having survived, but I pivoted toward the last few men and engaged them again, distracting them while Gregor and Fowler both staggered past the onslaught and dropped to the ground.

  The shouting continued for several more seconds before it tapered to silence. It took me a moment to realize the outcasts were staring at a man who had emerged from the path ahead. He wore a cloak made of fine silver threads that matched his silver hair and long beard. His face was scarred with white slashes across his cheek, forehead, chin, and even one through his lips, revealing glinting silver teeth beneath.

  Irontooth. The leader of this rough group. He was flanked on one side by an abnormally burly man who seemed to be covered in hair over every inch of his body. On the other side stood a woman with pale lips and the purest, whitest hair I’d ever seen.

  The silver-haired man strolled forward, his attention flicking from Fowler and Gregor back to me, where it held. His eyes were dark, piercing deeply, seeing past my exterior to all my secrets. He couldn’t really read my mind. Still, I lowered myself to one knee and bowed my head, more to hide my thoughts than to show deference.

  As his footsteps crunched nearer, I kept my head down until I found myself staring at a pair of iron-toed boots. I tensed with the uncertainty of what this leader would do.

  The wind clattered the branches overhead, shaking moisture down upon my back. Or maybe it was more blood. The slice in my arm burned, and blood continued to trickle down to my hand, dripping from my fingertips to the rocky path.

  “You and your man there.” Irontooth’s voice was steely. “Who sent you to our island?”

  “No one. We’ve come of our own volition.”

  His hand connected with my cheek in a blow that would have sent me to the ground had I not been a strong man. Pain ricocheted through my face and into my head, but I held my body in place.

  “You’re lying.” His tone grew sharper. “Are you the Inquisitor’s spy?”

  I raised my head so he could see the truth of my answer. “No. If you would allow me, I shall help rally your forces and lead a battle against the Inquisitor the next time he attempts to land on the island.”

  The citizens in Fife, across the Channel from the island, didn’t like having the misfits living so close. Upon receiving their complaints, the Inquisitor had settled in Fife and made it his mission to eliminate the outcasts.

  I wanted to suggest Irontooth join forces with Blade’s army in battling the Inquisitor, but the veiled woman’s warning about the animosity between the leaders stopped the words before I incurred more of Irontooth’s wrath.

  He narrowed his eyes upon me, clearly not trusting me even with my offer. “If not the Inquisitor, then who has dispatched you?”

  “I’m here on behalf of Gregor.” I nodded toward where my scribe and Fowler had collapsed, noting the blood and bruises on their faces. Hopefully, they’d fared no worse than I had with nothing but a few surface wounds.

  Irontooth didn’t take his attention from me. “Veil insists the manservant is here for you and not the other way.”

  The veiled woman was perceptive, and I couldn’t deny the charge. Yet how else could I explain our presence on the island? “I brought him here for his own protection.” It was the best excuse I could think of under duress.

  But it apparently wasn’t enough for Irontooth. His fist connected with my other cheek, this blow harder than the last. Blackness threatened to overtake me, and I fought against it, especially when I realized Gregor now stood over me, his sword clashing with Irontooth’s.

  Shouting erupted around us as several men worked to disarm and restrain Gregor. I struggled to my feet. At the sight of a blade pressed against Gregor’s throat, I started to swing my weapon, only to find my arms wrenched behind my back.

  The outcasts thrust me back to my knees in front of Irontooth.

  Silence descended over the gathering again, and my heart thudded with a new fear, one I hadn’t experienced since starting my Testing—the fear that we were in very real danger of losing our lives.

  “I say throw them into the sea and feed them to Loch Ness,” shouted a man from behind. Some chorused their agreement while others offered other suggestions.

  Irontooth prodded me with the toe of his boot. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll do as they say.”

  I bowed my head. I’d kept my identity as a prince of Scania hidden thus far. Once these outcasts realized I was a prince, they would most certainly expel me from the island, and I would have to forfeit my Testing. If they didn’t kill me first.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Please believe me when I say I am no foe.” I had to try one more time to broker for our lives. However, if I could not save us with my own ingenuity, then I would willingly give up the kingship, for I wouldn’t be worthy of such a role. “I vow that I am your humble servant. I pledge to do your bidding so long as it remains in accordance with God’s laws.”

  Once more the outcasts grew silent and waited for their leader’s pronouncement. The damp air crackled around me with their anticipation.

  I could feel Irontooth’s sharp gaze upon my bent head, and I prayed he would accept my offer.

  “Nay,” he finally said.

  As the cheers rose around us, my shoulders drooped with defeat.

  “Feed them to the sea serpent!”

  “Give me two weeks!” The veiled woman’s voice rose above the others. “And I shall discover his true purpose for being here.”

  Calls of disdain and opposition followed the remark.

  “If I do not succeed,” she called louder, “then I shall help you turn them into fodder for Loch Ness.”

  How had I survived for two months in Blade’s camp without rousing suspicion, and I’d been present in this camp for two minutes and they already wanted to kill me? I suspected this noblewoman was to blame. She’d recognized my status when no one else had. She’d pointed out my duplicity to Irontooth, who now feared my motives for being here.

  Why, then, was she attempting to save me? Perhaps she’d thought to earn Irontooth’s favor by bringing me to him but hadn’t expected her master to so quickly sentence me to death. Whatever the case, I was at her mercy and prayed Irontooth would accept her offer.

  “One week,” Irontooth said. “You have one week to wrest the truth from them. If not, then we’ll deliver them to Loch Ness.”

  I lifted my head and found Irontooth studying Veil, who stood a few feet away. She met his hard gaze without flinching, her shoulders straight, her head angled up as though she was accustomed to giving orders. Would she protest her master’s decision?

  She hesitated for another heartbeat before bowing her head in submission.

  The moment she was no longer looking at Irontooth, his stare softened, almost turned sad. And I knew without a doubt, he’d do anything for her. If I could win Veil’s favor, I would win his.

  Chapter

  4

  Pearl

  “Chain them to the walls,” I commanded, as I hopped down from the bottom rung of the ladder into the cave. Toad and Humphrey and several others pushed the prisoners deeper into the dank cavern we called our dungeon.


  Guilt needled me. I’d almost cost these men their lives. I should have known Irontooth wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than the truth from Mikkel. But perhaps his secrets were too deep to unburden, especially so publicly. Mine were.

  When I’d asked for two weeks, I’d known Irontooth would only give me one, and now I prayed that would be sufficient for discovering the real reason Mikkel was on the island.

  I held my torch up, giving light to the dark cave with its low ceilings, smooth walls, and the dry pine boughs spread across the floor. It wasn’t the cleanest spot in camp, but it wasn’t as foul as the dungeons under the palace in Kensington.

  Humphrey forced Mikkel to the floor and wrapped a manacle around his ankle.

  “Bind Mikkel’s hands and his feet.”

  Humphrey paused. I knew what he was thinking, that the prisoner would be helpless without his hands. But that was precisely what I wished for—for Mikkel to rely upon me for everything.

  I stood back and watched as the men finished chaining the prisoners. Fowler complained the entire time, and Gregor didn’t make a sound. Although Mikkel didn’t speak either, his eyes communicated much more than words, mainly that he was in pain from the injuries he’d received during his run through the gauntlet.

  From what I could tell, he’d sustained a gash near his jaw, along with burns and knife cuts on his arms. In taking the lead, he’d suffered the brunt of the brutality. He’d surprised me by refusing to allow his servant to protect him. Even more, he’d surprised me by taking the least effective weapon while giving Gregor and Fowler the means to defend themselves more sufficiently.

  My astonishment had changed to admiration as Mikkel had advanced through the gauntlet so fearlessly, paving the way for Gregor and Fowler. He was clearly a good man who cared about his servant more than he did himself, perhaps proving my earlier statement wrong that Gregor was insignificant to him.

  I was as curious as Irontooth to know who Mikkel really was and why he was here. Could I elicit the truth from him, or would he come up with a plausible excuse?

  Humphrey stepped away from Mikkel, leaving both arms and legs manacled. In so vulnerable a position, the nobleman was without the ability to stop me from doing anything I wished to him.

  At the prospect, something strange fluttered in my stomach. He was handsome, one of the handsomest men I’d met. If only I didn’t have to hide my face. Then I could use my beauty to win him over. I’d grown up watching my mother use her beauty to beguile people into doing her bidding, particularly my father. All she’d needed to do was peer at him with her mesmerizing eyes, curve her pretty lips, and whisper in his ear, and he became clay in her hands.

  Over recent years, I’d realized my beauty was beguiling too, that it held some kind of power over men, almost as though it could cast a spell over them. When I’d first realized I wielded such influence, I was amused. But as time had passed, I grew frustrated that men saw only my outward appearance and paid little heed to anything else.

  Dare I use my beguiling beauty to weave a spell over Mikkel and make him like clay in my hands? As appealing as the idea was, I cast it aside. I’d come to like the respect I earned from the outcasts for my actions and not for what I looked like. And I didn’t want that to change.

  I would have to win Mikkel’s trust with other methods. I’d start by doctoring his wounds. Certainly the tender care would soften him. And I would befriend him so he’d think of me as an ally rather than an enemy.

  After making sure the prisoners were well contained and guarded, I climbed out of the cavern into the rain that fell steadily and cast a chill over our camp. The low clouds and fog had returned, settling in amongst the rocky outcroppings and obscuring the half dozen cave entrances that made up the bulk of our dwellings. At the center of the camp, a large covering made of hides had been secured to four tall posts and provided a shelter during both rain and snow. A center hole in the hides allowed smoke from the fire pit to escape.

  Felicity stood at the fire in front of a pot hanging from a tripod. The waft of fish told me she was cooking fish chowder, one of our usual fares. Next to her, Irontooth sipped from his large pewter stein covered in intricate raised engravings of knights doing battle. The lid was in the shape of a knight’s helmet with fancy plumage rising and serving as the thumb lift. Irontooth didn’t say so, but others speculated the stein had been a gift for his service and bravery from Norland’s old king.

  “Veil,” he called as I attempted to sneak past. “I need to speak with you.”

  His tone was severe, and the others who’d been loitering under the shelter dispersed. I didn’t blame them. Irontooth wasn’t an easy master to please and even more difficult when he was irritated.

  I wanted to call out that I’d meet with him later, but I suppressed my natural inclination to order people around as I always had in the days when I’d been a princess and forced myself to approach him.

  Felicity remained at the pot, her expression serene. At my approach, her pale lips curved into a warm smile and her colorless eyes met mine, assuring me I had nothing to worry about.

  I nodded in return, thankful for this friend. At least a decade my senior, she’d taken me under her charge from the day I arrived and taught me how to survive in this rough wilderness. After I’d revealed to her my true identity as Princess Pearl of Warwick, Queen Margery’s oldest child, she’d hadn’t treated me differently. My royalty hadn’t impressed her the way it did most people. At first I hadn’t been sure I liked that. But now, after the many passing months, I realized her acceptance of all people regardless of station or stature was something I’d do well to emulate.

  “What else did you learn of the prisoners?” Irontooth wiped foam from his mustache.

  I relayed to him a summary of the few details I’d gleaned from Mikkel during our walk from the boat to camp. But it was a paltry amount, and I wasn’t surprised when Irontooth guffawed. “You’d better get him to reveal more than that, or I will kill him.”

  “Have no fear. I shall succeed.” I’d perfected the appearance of confidence over the years. “If you had watched him run the gauntlet, you would like him.”

  “Perhaps he should run it again, since all I’m hearing is how good he was.”

  “Perhaps he should. But first he needs his wounds cleaned, or you will indeed kill him from neglect.”

  “That’s one way to do away with him.”

  “He deserves the benefit of the doubt until he proves otherwise.”

  “Until he betrays us all to the Inquisitor.”

  “You gave me a chance to prove myself,” I said more gently and with a note of teasing. “And now you cannot imagine the camp without me in it.”

  Irontooth mumbled under his breath, then took a swig from his stein. Even with his severity, he was a caring man at heart.

  “Perhaps he will be an asset,” I added.

  “Or he could be the ruin of us all.” Irontooth’s brow furrowed as he glanced in the direction of the dungeon. Older than my father by many years, Irontooth had become a father figure to me nonetheless.

  “We are strong and capable of defending ourselves against one man.”

  “But he isn’t like us.”

  I wanted to remind Irontooth I wasn’t like the outcasts either. But the truth was, I no longer saw the differences. I only saw the ways we were all alike.

  “Do whatever you need to in order to get the truth from him. And if you can’t stomach torture, I’ll send Tommy down to do it.”

  I followed Irontooth’s gaze to the dungeon entrance, where Tommy stood guard. With the unnatural growth of thick hair covering his body, he almost resembled a bear. At times he acted like one. One of the biggest and most muscular men on the island, he was a ferocious fighter, sometimes too much so for my sensitive heart. “You gave me a week. I shall use my methods and shall not tolerate any interference.”

  “Take care.” Irontooth lowered his voice. “He might be a spy for the queen.”

 
I nodded. We’d discussed the possibility that the queen might know I was still alive. After all, when the huntsmen had returned without my body, the queen would have questioned them further. And what if she’d tortured and extracted information from the huntsman who’d set me free?

  I needed no further urging from Irontooth to be careful. I had enemies on all sides, and I couldn’t forget that. However, Mikkel was chained hand and foot to the dungeon wall. What harm could come of wresting more information from him this week by befriending and softening him so he would tell me all his secrets?

  With a final word of assurance to Irontooth, I sped away and gathered medicinal supplies to tend to the prisoners’ wounds. A short while later, Tommy opened the door and lowered the ladder. As I climbed down with my torch in hand and supplies in a bag over my shoulder, I could feel the prisoners watching me warily.

  I hopped down, walked to the center, and then studied each of them, trying to decide if Fowler and Gregor had wounds that needed tending too. From what I could tell, they were nicked and bruised but would easily heal. Still, I crossed toward them.

  “If you must inflict more pain,” Mikkel said, “please spare them and abuse me instead.”

  I halted.

  “I beg of you.” His voice was strained. From his own pain? Concern for his comrades? Or both?

  I paused for several moments, hoping he believed I was considering his offer. Then I spun abruptly and stalked toward him. “Very well. If you insist.”

  “No.” Gregor yanked against his chains, attempting to protect his master but failing.

  When I reached Mikkel, I held the torch up to shed more light upon him. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut with purple and blue surrounding the puffy skin. His other cheek was bruised too, likely from Irontooth’s fist. Both sleeves were saturated with blood and stuck to his arms. The front of his tunic was smeared with blood, from the cuts on his arms or elsewhere I couldn’t determine.