by Jody Hedlund
My wife. The thought pulsed through me with sluggish trepidation. Never in all my planning had I expected to end up married on the Isle of Outcasts. But here I was, with a wife. No matter how she might feel about our marriage, I was determined to make the best of it. And in some ways, that might end up being the biggest challenge of all.
Chapter
10
Pearl
“We don’t need to fight with Blade,” Mikkel whispered from where he crouched on the rock ledge beside me.
“We are defending ourselves. Not fighting.” I peered down into the gorge, searching for any sign of Blade’s men creeping up the river path.
“We would all fare better if we worked together,” Mikkel said, as he already had on several occasions. “We would be stronger if we put aside our problems and united.”
“We are strong enough,” I retorted, my bowstring touching my shoulder and my arrow notched.
He was silent for a moment before whispering again. “This is no place for a woman.”
“I can fend for myself.”
“I am quite aware of that.”
Was he thinking back to the day I’d captured him during his fishing expedition? I’d proven my capability then. And he’d seen me training at camp, had even sparred with me from time to time.
“I’d feel better if you were well away from here and safely back at camp.”
“I am not going back.” We’d argued about my presence in the expedition since leaving camp, and I refused to heed his admonition.
He shook his head, his hair gleaming like gold in the afternoon sunlight and his eyes reflecting the light-blue sky overhead. Though his hair and eyes were fair and beautiful, his features were hardened into granite, his knife in one hand and his spear in the other. The layer of scruff on his chin and jaw had grown thick but only made him all the more handsome.
His appearance was something I couldn’t keep from noticing, especially because Irontooth had commanded us to spend every waking and sleeping hour together over the past fortnight since our wedding.
Though I tried not to look at or think about Mikkel, he was undeniably attractive and drew my attention regardless. I loathed myself for my weakness, particularly those times when he caught me staring. Like now.
As if he’d felt my examination, he slanted a sideways glance at me.
I shot my attention to the gully below. “The exchange of prisoners is always tense.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“They will not understand why we are only returning Fowler and why you and Gregor are staying with us.”
“I’ll go down and explain it myself.”
“If you get anywhere near them, they may take you back regardless of your wishes.” Or maybe he would run at the chance to rejoin the other group and escape this marriage that had been foisted upon him.
He hadn’t complained about our arrangement, had in fact appeared to be making the best of the situation. And that made me feel worse for using him and our marriage as a way to save Ruby. Especially because he’d gone out of his way to treat me politely, giving me plenty of privacy whenever I needed it, deferring to me on most decisions, and remaining chaste in every sense of the word.
We’d spent long hours fishing and hunting, collecting firewood and root vegetables, and joining in the weapons training Irontooth led every day. And though we hadn’t recaptured the camaraderie of that first week when he was in the dungeon, we’d still had plenty of time to talk and get to know each other.
He’d told me more about his Testing, where his brothers had gone for their Testing, and how he hadn’t been in communication with either of them since they left Scania in May. Vilmar had been relegated to laboring in the gem mines as a slave, and Kresten was a woodcutter in Inglewood Forest. He’d spoken of both men with the utmost respect.
In turn, I’d shared more about my family, mostly my love for my father and sister. And while he’d known a little bit about the history of the Great Isle, I’d told him more about my mother and her twin sister, Leandra, how their father, King Alfred the Peacemaker, had given each of them an inheritance. My mother’s had been Warwick and the coveted white stone, believed to be the primary means of alchemy.
Mikkel had been curious about the white stone and alchemy, but I didn’t want to talk about it for long. My mother had obsessed over the alchemy process while I was growing up, had spent countless hours and resources trying to unlock the secret ingredients so she could be the first to transform stones into gold. She loved her alchemy more than anything or anyone, including her family. And because of that, I resented everything having to do with it.
While Mikkel hadn’t requested to see my face, he had asked me again to tell him what had happened to cause my blemish. I suspected he believed I was unbearably deformed and had no wish to see me for fear of knowing exactly the kind of woman he’d married. Thus, I told him I didn’t want to speak about it and not to bring it up again.
I focused on a goshawk floating above the dark Scots pine trees. It was too distant to see its red eyes and white eyebrows, but the bird of prey, with its oddly colored eyes, somehow seemed to belong to the island.
Belong. The word opened up the wound in my heart, which I’d tried so hard to ignore these many months. I didn’t belong anywhere—not in Warwick, not here on the island, and not even in Scania with Mikkel.
Though Mikkel had reassured me he intended to keep our marriage vows, I wouldn’t hold him to his promise. As soon as I was settled in Scania with Ruby, I would proceed with an annulment nonetheless. Then he wouldn’t be stuck with a wife he hadn’t wanted, and he’d be free to marry the princess his advisors had arranged for him.
I scanned the gorge again for a sign of the warring tribe but glimpsed only the others of our party hidden in their strategic locations. “Perhaps your wish is to return to Blade’s tribe.”
“My wish is to solve the differences between the two groups peacefully, like adults, rather than fighting like barbaric children.”
“Then you would return to Blade if given the chance?” I didn’t know why I was baiting him, but suddenly I very much needed to know whether he wanted to stay with me of his own will or whether he’d rather leave. “If you would like to go, I shall not stop you.”
I watched the goshawk circle and then swoop toward the river. Mikkel didn’t speak, and I felt foolish for going on about whether he wanted to stay or not. Of course none of this was his desire. The primary thing holding him to the island was his Testing. He’d shown that he’d do anything to prove his worthiness to become the next king. If not for the Testing, he would have left me and the island behind long ago.
“Pearl,” he said softly.
I shot him a cautionary look only to find his summer-blue eyes holding me captive.
“You agreed to call me Veil in public.”
“We’re alone.”
He was right. Our spot behind a boulder above the river was secluded and private, except for Gregor, who had perched behind a boulder a dozen paces away. But like Mikkel, I’d grown accustomed to the servant’s constant presence and hardly noticed him hovering anymore.
“No one will be the wiser if you slip away now.” I gave him one last chance to leave.
“Pearl.” His voice was so gentle it silenced me.
Embarrassed, I wanted to look away, but his kind eyes still held mine.
“I am not leaving. Put it from your mind.”
“’Tis my fault you are here and bound to me. If I had refrained from capturing you that day . . .”
“Then one of Irontooth’s other pawns would have captured me instead.”
“Pawns? Are you saying I am one of Irontooth’s pawns?”
He returned his sharp gaze to the scenery. “You know that you are. He’s your puppet master.”
I nearly laughed at his analogy but caught myself. Instead, I shoved his arm. As he was balanced on the balls of his feet, the move threw him off-kilter. He grabbed at me to steady hims
elf. In the process, however, he tipped sideways, landed on his back, and somehow pulled me down on top of him.
Letting my weapons fall idle, I sprawled across him, feeling the solidness of his chest keenly against mine along with the rise and fall of his breathing. “Take it back,” I said, trying to salvage my dignity.
“Take what back?” His eyes took on a sparkle.
“That Irontooth is my puppet master.”
“He is.”
“No, he is not. Now retract your words, or I shall make you pay for them.”
“How will you make me pay, my lady?” His lips quirked with the beginning of a smile.
The air around me felt suddenly lighter, headier. And for the first time in a long time—perhaps since my father died—something akin to happiness stole into the dark and lonely corridors of my heart.
“I shall think of something terrible.”
“How terrible?”
I searched my mind for a retort but could find nothing fitting. “Terribly terrible.”
One of his brows curved, and his smile broke free. The sight of it took my breath away. His smiles were rare, but they always transformed his face, taking away the cold sternness and replacing it with warm acceptance. It was the kind of expression that told me a future with this man would be graced with more smiles, laughter, and tenderness.
“I shall look forward to such terribly terrible consequences.” His voice was light and teasing.
A lock of his fair hair had fallen across his forehead, and I reached up and smoothed it back, taking my time to tuck it into place.
As my fingers lingered in his hair, his breathing stilled and his smile faded.
Was he repulsed by my touch? I let my fingers fall away, self-conscious at my forwardness. But before I could get far, he snatched my hand and brought it to his lips. A soft, feathery warmth brushed my knuckles, and I sucked in a breath at the contact.
I didn’t dare move for fear the moment might end before I was ready for it to.
Beneath me, his body remained motionless, and his eyes darkened to the color of the sky at twilight.
My heart began a strange thrumming of anticipation.
Ever so gently, he turned my hand over and pressed it against his lips, this time kissing the tender spot at the center of my palm.
His gaze held mine, unrelenting but tender, rendering me helpless and filling me with feelings for him I couldn’t explain.
He lifted my hand away and curled my fingers closed, as if to keep his kiss there. At that instant, shouts from across the gorge jolted us. We scrambled to our knees and peered out, the intimacy dissipating under the harsh reality of where we were and the life we were leading.
At another shout, this one from the northern trail that wound up the island back to our camp, I spotted Tommy’s bearlike frame. He limped forward, blood running down his face and disappearing into the thick hairy growth on his chin and neck. His eyes were wild and desperate, and he shouted again, this time more audibly. “The camp’s been attacked!”
All around the gorge, our people tentatively stepped out of their hiding places, their faces confused. Irontooth emerged from his secluded spot closest to the river, Fowler bound and gagged beside him, along with several other of our fiercest warriors.
Mikkel’s fingers tightened against both his weapons, as if he expected Blade’s men to swoop out of the woods now that we’d revealed our positions.
“The camp!” Tommy fell to his knees, revealing a knife blade stuck deep into the flesh of his back.
I gasped and spun, ready to retrace my path along the cliff so I could race to his aid. Before I could take a step, Mikkel gripped my arm and stopped me. “Wait.” He narrowed his eyes and scanned the landscape.
Irontooth had left Tommy back at our camp as he usually did to act as a sentinel and protect our position and few possessions. Had Blade lured us away from our camp on the pretense of the prisoner exchange only to attack while we were gone? That would explain why our rival and his men hadn’t arrived yet at our prearranged meeting spot.
Tommy struggled to pick himself up. With his extraordinary strength, he somehow managed to stand and push farther toward the gorge. At the same time, several others from our group reached him and grabbed his arms, lending their support.
“What happened?” Irontooth shouted up at him, shielding his eyes with his hand against the bright summer sun. “Did Blade attack?”
Tommy shook his head, his expression radiating with both pain and devastation. “The Inquisitor, and his men! They took the women as prisoners and left me for dead.”
The Inquisitor?
“Felicity?” Irontooth asked.
“Aye, she’s gone.” Tommy’s voice cracked.
Irontooth dropped his hand from his eyes to his belt where he unsheathed his knife. With a roar that echoed all through the narrow valley, he bolted forward, racing up the trail that led back to camp.
The Inquisitor had Felicity and the two other women? My heart thundered with both pity and fear. How had this happened? Had Blade informed the Inquisitor we’d be away from camp, giving him the perfect opportunity to strike?
I jerked to free myself from Mikkel’s grasp, but his fingers tightened around my arm.
“Release me.”
“You’re staying with me.” His handsome features had turned to steel and his eyes to ice.
“I must go to Tommy. He needs my assistance, or he shall surely die.”
Mikkel didn’t loosen his grip. “I’ll go with you.”
I attempted to shrug off his hold again. “I do not need you following my every move and acting as my bodyguard.”
“You’re my wife. I am duty bound to protect you.”
I spun to face him. “I do not want your duty.”
“You have it regardless.” Any trace of the tender young man from moments ago was gone, and the regal prince with his lofty ideals was back in place. He’d been born and raised to be a prince and a king. He took his duties and vows seriously, and I could respect that.
But a small piece of my heart rebelled against his integrity and high standards. The part that longed for him to simply like me for who I was and not because he was bound to me.
His hard expression dared me to defy him again. I would have challenged him further if not for the urgency of Tommy’s wound. “Very well,” I whispered tersely. “Let us be on our way.”
“Very well.” His response was just as terse.
I glanced at his hand pointedly, and only then did he let go.
Chapter
11
Mikkel
At the sight of the destruction within the camp, I sank to the nearest boulder and shuddered. The caves had been emptied, and everything of value had been broken or burned.
The main thought reverberating through my mind was that if Pearl hadn’t insisted on going to the prisoner exchange, the Inquisitor would have captured her along with Felicity and the other women.
“No sign of their boats,” Toad called from the highest point of camp, a tall rock that gave a view of the northern side of the island and the sea surrounding it.
“They can’t be far away.” Irontooth didn’t pause in strapping on his armor over his chain mail, armor now blackened from the Inquisitor’s bonfire. “Everyone get ready to go! We’ll leave right away and head after them.”
“No.” I pushed myself up. “You can’t go yet.”
“No one is asking for your opinion,” Irontooth snapped.
I stalked toward him, my muscles tensing. This fearless leader might intimidate everyone else into obeying him, but I refused to allow him to bully me. “You’ll be a fool if you rush off after the Inquisitor.”
“Stay out of this!” He glared at me—a look that said he wouldn’t hesitate to beat me away if I dared try to stop him.
Pearl bolted up from where she was tending Tommy, and she took several rapid steps in my direction. Was she worried for me? Afraid of what Irontooth might do if I stood up to hi
m?
I’d spent much time over the past couple of weeks studying the fearless leader and trying to see into his heart. And I’d come to understand that although Irontooth was a seasoned warrior and his tactics were sometimes unnecessarily brutal, he wasn’t a killer.
I strode up to him and sent my fist flying into his face. At the crack of my knuckles against his cheek, pain radiated up my arm to my shoulder. But I unsheathed my spear and knife instantly, ready to fight.
Irontooth roared his anger and swung at me with his sword as I’d predicted.
Pearl shouted a warning, urging me to stop. But in all my recent analyzing, I’d surmised that the primary means of gaining his respect was by a show of force. He wouldn’t listen any other way.
Of course, I had no aspirations to usurp his leadership. But I couldn’t let him charge off in pursuit of the Inquisitor, not in his frenzied condition. Nothing good would come of leading with one’s heart without also using one’s head. And right now he was too upset at losing Felicity to think clearly.
He bellowed his pain and frustration, this time louder. Then he brought his sword down with an expertise and fortitude that gave me pause. This seasoned knight was a better fighter than I was. Had I jumped into the fray too quickly?
Even as doubts crowded in, I shoved them aside and forced myself to concentrate. In the wake of Irontooth’s loss of the woman he loved, he was weak and vulnerable, and I would bring him to his knees to show him so.
I dodged several blows and warded off more with my spear. I could sense his vexation growing the longer I evaded him. And I toyed with him a moment longer, praying he would make a mistake before I did.
When he raised his sword above his head and lunged toward me, his momentum was too swift and desperate. It was the crack I’d been waiting for. As he swung down, I sidestepped, spun, and thrust the hilt of my sword into his back. The pressure caused him to trip and sent him sprawling to the ground, his arms outstretched. His sword slipped from his grip and clattered out of his reach.
I wasted no time in hopping onto his back and pressing my boot heel into the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades, also brushing the tip of my spear against the nape of his neck. He struggled until the blade pierced his skin and drew blood.