Page 57 of Besotted
As I was draining the last frothy drop, the pounding of hooves and shouting from the northern edge of town drew our attention. At the sight of several hooded and cloaked figures riding toward us at high speed, Mikkel’s brows wrinkled, and he jogged toward the newcomers.
“Mikkel!” one of the riders called in a distinctly feminine voice.
As the rider reined in, he grabbed the bit to steady the creature. The rider hopped off with a litheness I didn’t expect. In an instant, Mikkel was drawing the newcomer into an embrace.
The hood fell away to reveal a stunningly beautiful woman with ebony hair that rippled in long waves over her shoulders. Her features were exquisitely perfect and her creamy skin unblemished.
She stood on her toes while Mikkel bent in and eagerly captured her upturned lips in a kiss. His passion for the woman was unmistakable. And she responded in kind.
This had to be his wife, Princess Pearl. I’d heard rumors of her beauty, but she far exceeded them. Of course, she wasn’t as beautiful as Aurora, but she was the only woman I’d met who could come close.
Their reunion was poignant, and I couldn’t begrudge them this moment of happiness. But the grief of my own lost love swelled up so sharply I had to look away. Mikkel had found a treasure in this woman. I thought I’d found that in Aurora. But now I understood how futile our love had been.
“We have come from near Huntwell Fortress.” Pearl pulled away from Mikkel. From the way he strained after her, clearly he wasn’t ready to relinquish her, although he did so, but reluctantly.
For the first time, I took notice of her two traveling companions. One had an overly large head with big ears that couldn’t be hidden beneath his hood. The other had skin covered in thick black hair, almost as if he were a beast instead of a man. These men were no doubt from the Isle of Outcasts and friends of Mikkel’s.
“The news is not good.” Pearl spoke not only to Mikkel but the rest of the gathering. “Queen Margery’s elite knights have captured Aurora.”
My blood turned to ice.
“We cannot know for certain where they are headed,” she continued, “but we believe they are taking her south into Warwick. Likely to Boarshead Hunting Ground.”
The ale I’d just swallowed roiled in my stomach. For a moment, I thought I would be ill.
Mikkel and Vilmar both cast their gazes upon me.
Pearl did likewise, her beautiful green eyes narrowing as she took me in. “So, you have located the youngest prince?” She strode toward me, her cloak flapping open to reveal men’s garments as well as men’s boots, again taking me by surprise. “’Tis regretful he could not lead you to Aurora first.”
“He could have.” Mikkel followed after her. “But he withheld it from us until too late.”
I bent over and closed my eyes, sick at myself and sick with worry for Aurora. This was my fault. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but deep inside, I knew Chester had forced Aurora to leave the cottage because he’d caught her kissing me. He’d likely discovered our plans to get married. And as an elite guard with her utmost protection at heart, he’d decided to take her to Delsworth early rather than risk our reunion.
He saw me as nothing more than a pesky intruder, a peasant man who had no business winning the heart of a queen. If only I’d spoken sooner and revealed my identity the way I’d intended to. Perhaps then Chester wouldn’t have been so angry at my presence there—although I suspected he wouldn’t have liked me even if he’d known I was a prince. He was bound to protect Aurora, and that included keeping her pure for the man she’d one day wed.
“Prince Kresten?” Pearl’s tone softened.
From my bent position, I took several deep breaths before I straightened. I bowed my head in respect to her. “Your Highness. I wish you happiest felicitations in your marriage to my brother.”
She tilted her head in acknowledgment, studying me with a keenness that mirrored Mikkel’s. “What do you know of Aurora?” Her bluntness matched Mikkel’s as well. They would be a good fit for each other.
“He fancies himself in love with her.” Although Mikkel’s voice was without judgment, it needled me so that once again, I glanced to the forest and wished I had no more need of him and could simply walk away. The trouble was, now I did need him. I needed all of them if I had any hope of rescuing Aurora.
I flexed my jaw and fisted my hands. But I forced myself to remain calm before I answered the princess. “My feelings for Aurora are of no consequence. What matters is finding a way to free her from Queen Margery.”
“I agree.” Her eyes flashed with something. Pain, perhaps? Did this have to do with her younger sister? Whatever her motive for wanting to help Aurora, it didn’t matter. The only necessity was that we work together against the queen.
“Can we find the trail of those who captured her?” I asked.
“We will no doubt come upon it,” she replied. “But the true test is whether we can catch her before she reaches the lodge. If the queen sequesters her there, we shall have no chance of getting past the basilisks to rescue her. At least, not before the queen slays her and cuts out her heart.”
Again I felt ill. If I’d behaved with more restraint, if I’d kept the boundary of friendship between us, if I’d honored her wishes to stay away in the first place, she’d still be securely ensconced in the cottage.
I fought down my nausea. “We have no time to spare. Let us be on our way.”
I didn’t wait to discover the princess’s reaction to my command, nor did I care what my brothers thought. Instead, urgency prodded me into action. I instructed Jorg to locate mounts that we could use for our travels. While he did so, I gleaned as much information as I could from Walter and the other men of the town regarding the swiftest route to Boarshead Hunting Ground. Walter, having lived in Inglewood Forest his whole life, offered to lead us to the most direct paths, which he claimed would reduce hours—if not an entire day—from our race to cut off the queen’s men who had Aurora.
We started on our way less than a quarter of an hour later. Ty rode at the front with Walter. In the months of living in Inglewood Forest, Vilmar’s scribe had grown familiar with the forest, learning its trails, and was especially keen in spotting evidence of basilisks and steering us away from their territory.
