Page 46 of Enamored
I froze.
What if she had sought me out earlier in the day? What if she’d come to my room and discovered my absence? And what if Dag had informed her I was visiting Rasmus’s chambers?
Dread pumped through my blood—slow, steady, and certain. I’d oft complained about my disdain for visiting Rasmus. She was aware of Rasmus’s severe discipline. And after confronting him last night, perhaps she’d thought to rescue me again.
Rasmus was studying my face, likely seeing a change in my expression, perhaps in my eyes. “You have figured out where she has gone, haven’t you?”
I nodded, the dread pulsing harder. She would have had no reason to leave unless she heard the worst part of Rasmus’s plotting... his plan to put the king in grave peril.
She’d left to warn the king.
Chapter
16
Elinor
Heavy darkness pressedupon us. Yet we urged our horses onward through the shrubs and sparse forest that ran alongside one of the many freshwater lakes within Norvegia. The thud of our horses’ hooves and the crunching of twigs and leaves would alert anyone nearby of our presence. But in our mad race to reach the king, speed was more important than stealth.
“How much farther?” I tossed the question to Halvard on his mount beside me.
From beneath the hood of his cloak, the thickly muscled guard glanced to the eastern horizon across the lake. Though the rain had ceased, the sky remained overcast, preventing us from using the stars to guide our path. “I would surmise six hours, Your Highness, if not more.”
I released my grip on the reins, my fingers stiff. Bringing my hands to my mouth, I breathed into my leather gloves, hoping for some warmth.
After hours of riding in the cold rain, my entire body was frozen. My oiled cloak had kept me mostly dry, but I hadn’t been able to prevent some dampness from seeping in. When night had fallen, the temperature had steadily dropped. Now, with dawn only a few hours away, I was feeling the effects deep in my flesh.
“The horses will need a rest soon, Your Highness.” Halvard bent forward and patted his mount’s neck.
I recognized what he was doing. He was feigning interest in the creature’s well-being to convince me to stop and warm myself. I forced my teeth to stop chattering before I answered. “We can slow our pace if need be, but we cannot rest.”
Halvard bowed his head and said nothing more.
I had no doubt he’d try again soon. Of all my servants and guards, I trusted him more than anyone. He only had my best interest at heart and was worried about my well-being.
But what was my suffering in comparison to the threat the king would soon face—if he hadn’t already?
Sharp pain stabbed my heart, as it had since we’d ridden away from Vordinberg. Maxim had betrayed me. All along, he’d been rebuilding our friendship so he could enamor me and make me fall in love with him. The time we’d spent together, the kiss we’d shared, the closeness we’d rekindled—it had all been part of his scheming. He’d meant none of it beyond what he could gain from a union with me.
How had I been so blind? Why had I listened to him? In my vulnerability, he’d convinced me the Sword of the Magi could help me pick the worthiest king. I’d believed him, believed he wanted to help me.
But he’d only wanted to help himself. To the throne.
Oh, how he’d fooled me. He’d certainly become much more skillful at subterfuge than he used to be. He was more intelligent than he’d let on. In fact, he was a mastermind, and everything within me regretted I hadn’t seen past his charade to the fraud he was. As it was, my gullibility had been a grave mistake.
I wanted to scream out into the night the frustration and anger pounding against my chest. But I had to stay shrewd if I hoped to succeed in reaching the king in time to warn him of the peril.
I blew again into my gloves, then shook first one hand rigorously and then the other with the hope of regaining some feeling.
If only I could go back in time to the last night of my courtship week to the final feast. Instead of deferring to the sword, I would have chosen one of the noblemen, perhaps Torvald, and I would have gone through with the betrothal ceremony. Doing so would have effectively squelched Maxim’s plans to gain the throne.
Perhaps even then, he—with the help of Rasmus—would have discovered another way to introduce the Sword of the Magi into the choosing process, whereby giving Maxim the unfair advantage of being able to loosen the sword—not by Providential means but by sheer cunning that came from reading ancient texts.
Whatever the case, I blamed myself for not discovering their evil ambitions sooner. I should have sensed something wasn’t right with Maxim, that the feelings developing between us happened much too rapidly and too strongly to be genuine.
And now they wanted the king out of the way so they could not only change the law about royalty marrying commoners but also avoid his objection to such a union.
If the king died, I would hold myself accountable. And if he lived, I would still blame myself for causing so much trouble. I had to accept what I’d known all along—I wasn’t worthy to be the next queen of Norvegia. I wasn’t strong or smart or savvy enough to lead this country.
