Page 54 of Enamored
“Tell me what you know of the plot against the king,” I demanded of Maxim.
Maxim stared at the battle, his handsome features hardened with severity. “I’ve been contemplating Rasmus’s plans since I left Vordinberg yesterday.”
“And...?”
“And I believe he must be colluding with the two newest of the Knights of Brethren, bribing them with more power and prestige...”
“To be given to them when you become king?” I finished his sentence, unable to keep the note of bitterness out of my tone.
“I don’t want to become king.” He turned his eyes upon me, the blue a soulful, sorrowful pit I could drown in. Again, I didn’t know whether to trust what I was seeing. Was this another act, or was he genuine?
“To prove it to you, as soon as we inform the king of the assassination plot against him, I intend to leave for the north and never return again.”
I didn’t have time to question him. At the moment, all I could do was trust that he wanted to help me save the king. After all, he’d brought me this far.
“How do we reach the king from here?” Halvard shied sideways on his horse and glanced over the jagged cliff and steep drop.
Maxim tugged on his reins and veered his horse back the way we’d come. “There is one path, not known to many.”
How, then, did Maxim know? Likely he’d read an obscure paragraph in an ancient battle story that told of the route. Or perhaps he’d studied old military strategies.
I trailed him as he led us to a deep ravine and a narrow footpath hidden among rocks and trees, one only wide enough for our horses. Even though we were in a hurry, we had no choice but to dismount and lead our horses down the zigzagging trail. As we neared the bottom, Maxim glanced back at me, our eyes meeting, his assessing me with a concern too intense to be false.
His confession from the lofthouse sifted through my mind, as it had several times during the past hours of riding.“I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. ’Twas what made leaving Vordinberg difficult as a child. And ’tis what made coming back difficult. Because I want you and know you’re not mine to have.”
A place deep inside longed for his confession to be true. Even if nothing could come of it, I still wanted to know he cared, truly cared about me, not for what he could gain but because of the bond we’d once shared.
“She’s your sister,” Maxim said.
“What?” The weariness from the long night and even longer morn was heavy upon me, and I didn’t have the energy for riddles.
“The maiden from the farm.” Maxim’s tone assured me this was a riddle he’d already solved on my behalf. “She’s your lost sister.”
Chapter
19
Maxim
I’d figured outthe identity of the maiden at the remote farm almost from the start. But I’d spent the past hours of our ride—when I wasn’t navigating—piecing together the details to present to Elinor.
I’d also debated the right time to tell her. This mission to save the king was of the utmost importance, and I didn’t want to distract her. But we were nearing the end of our journey together. After we reached the valley floor and remounted our horses, we would set off at full speed to the Norvegian encampment. Once there, Elinor would search for a faithful messenger to ride out into the fray to deliver her warning to the king.
With everything I’d done to contribute to the king’s danger, I planned to be that messenger. Elinor didn’t trust me yet, might never trust me again. She certainly wouldn’t put her faith in me to take a dire message to the king. But I aimed to go, even if she sent another man.
The truth was, I could very well die this day, quite possibly in the next hour, and I needed to tell Elinor everything I’d deduced about her lost mother and sister so that when this battle was over and the king was safe, she could pursue discovering more.
“Lis is my lost sister?” Elinor fumbled over her words. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Lis is nineteen, the right age for your sister. She wasn’t born to the farmer and his wife, although from the farmer’s hesitant body language, I could tell he and his wife allowed Lis to believe she was their child. When they came upon her, they were already old and had likely given up hope of having any children of their own.”
“That does not make her my sister.” Though Elinor’s response was quick, it contained a note of hope.
“Your sister’s name was Elisbet, and Lis is a nickname oft derived from Elisbet. Somehow the farmer and his wife knew her name, which means Princess Blanche was involved in placing her with the couple. Not only that, but Lis shares similar features to your mother and you. She shares a resemblance to your mother’s portrait, particularly the reddish tint of her hair.”
Elinor paused and then nodded. “Yes, she does indeed share a likeness.”
I’d seen the portrait of the late Princess Blanche several times during my childhood. It had graced the wall of Elinor’s chamber since she was but a child. Queen Inge had moved it there after the searching failed to find the lost woman and her infant daughter.
