Enchanting the King (The Beauty's Beast Fantasy Series) (16 page)

Aliénor elbow-crawled to a safe distance and worked at the knots on her wrists. The rope burned and cut at her skin, refusing to loosen.

“Fight the magic, Godric. Damn you,” Thomas gasped out. “You are stronger than some evil witch.”

“I’m sorry, my king.
I’m sorry
.”

As she heard the sound of Godric drawing his sword, her heart froze. Steel glinted briefly in the moonlight as Godric slashed at his king’s belly. Thomas blocked the blow with his own blade, and the swords clanged loudly in the night.

Nerves jangling like discordant bells, Aliénor pawed at the ground with her still-tied hands and came up with a heavy rock. She lurched to her feet and ran at the bespelled knight before he could swing again. She brought the rock down hard against the back of his head. He crashed to the ground, still slightly awake but groaning.

Thomas was by her side at once, clawing at the knots of rope on her wrists. The scratchy loops fell away, and Thomas whirled with the rope toward Godric. He lashed the burly knight’s hands together while the other man was still stunned. With a savage sort of satisfaction, Aliénor crawled forward and shoved the gag Godric had used on her deep into the knight’s mouth.

Thomas caught at her hand, and she swallowed a gasp as his fingers brushed over the raw, bleeding skin of her wrists. She curled her fingers around his hand and gripped him brutally tight. “Where are the others?”

“Looking for you.”

“What do we do with Sir Godric?”

“He’s still bespelled.” Thomas combed his fingers through his hair, tension radiating off him.

Aliénor chafed at her chill arms, her stomach roiling. She didn’t want Sir Godric anywhere near her, and yet… “If we leave him, the witch will find him again. If we take him with us, her spell will wear off, won’t it?”

“If we take him, he might attack you again. Overpower me.” Thomas snorted. “He is quite a bit younger than I, and one of my best knights.” He shifted from foot to foot, still with that same frantic jitter about him. At last he shook his head. “I can’t do it.” Thomas’s voice cracked on the end. “I won’t risk him hurting you again. I’ll see you to safety. That is my first duty. After that I’ll return for Godric.”

What about
your
safety?
Aliénor bit her lip. Men never worried over such things, she found.
They leave that burden of worry for us to take care of
.

Thomas was still watching Godric as his knight moaned half-conscious on the ground. “Hopefully, he’ll still be here when I return.”

“It will be all right.” She tugged on his hand, and with reluctance Thomas let himself be pulled away from Sir Godric’s prone form.

“Another man lost.” He shook his head.

“You must not blame yourself. You will get him help when you can.”

Thomas tossed her a wan smile and, still gripping her hand, moved in front of her to clear their path through the woods. They hurried through the trees, but not with the headlong rush of Godric’s flight. Clouds had blown across the moon, and it was bitterly dark now. Cold. They had to be careful to feel and pick their way through the trees lest one of them take a bad fall.

Aliénor had slept in her clothes, but Godric had not thought to grab her good heavy cloak when he’d snatched her. Distracted, tired, bruised, she stumbled over a rock and went down hard on her hands and knees.

“We’ll stop and wait for better light.” Thomas settled onto the ground beside her, and the two of them pressed their backs up against the nearest tree. He reached over and hauled a screen of broken branches around them. She hoped that would be enough if Godric managed to slip his bonds and come looking for them. Or if the witch were prowling these woods too.

Thomas untied his cloak and draped it around the both of them like a blanket. Aliénor slid close to him, pressing her side tight against his, pillowing her head on his heart. “To stay warm,” she murmured. “We shall both freeze without the other, surely.”

“Surely.” His voice was a trifle dry, but warm with amusement. His arm settled around her shoulders to draw her even closer. “The others will find us soon.”

Aliénor nodded against his shoulder, then covered a yawn with her hand. He was so warm, and she was so tired and sore, frightened. She burrowed under Thomas’s cloak, the smell of him wrapped around her comfortingly close as his arm. Aliénor slept.

Thomas was proven wrong. For though he watched and waited the whole night through, none of the others found them. When dawn broke, he nudged Aliénor awake. “It is light enough now that I think we must look for them.”

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and pushed disheveled red-gold hair back from her face. An ugly bruise darkened the skin of one cheek, and deep red lines of blood and bruises circled her wrists where the rope had dug in. Something clenched in his gut, a tight burst of anger and fear that he immediately locked down. He drew the cloak off himself and wrapped it around her shoulders. His knuckles brushed the bottom of her chin as he fastened the clasp. She caught his wrists with her small, soft hands, and his gaze darted up to hers in surprise.

Her brown eyes were warm, and still soft with sleep. “Thank you, King Thomas.”

He swallowed, and his fingers twitched before he jerked his hands away. They had each been foolish before on this road. He could not afford to be foolish now, when they were alone together. He pushed to his feet, creaking and moaning at the stiffness in his limbs. He offered his hand down to help Princess Aliénor stand, but then he dropped her fingers almost at once. Every moment with her was temptation. Best not to magnify it with touch.

They were deep in a small forest, but he could hear the river somewhere away to the east. Anutitum was to the south. It was enough to be going on with. “That way.” There were no paths cut through this forest, and it was slow going, having to clamber over bushes and under hanging limbs.

“
Bahhh.
” The high-pitched sound made them both jump with its suddenness. And then, “
Bahhh, Bahhh
,” sounded again.

Aliénor laughed. “Sheep?”

Thomas craned around, but he couldn’t see the animals. He heard more muted
bahhh
s now that he was listening for them. “There must be pasturage up ahead.” He kept an ear cocked, listening to the sheep. Perhaps, if they
ever
found the others, they could then find this shepherd and buy a few of his flock for dinner. Thomas was getting ever so sick of hard biscuits and dried meat.

After a little while longer of trudging and grunting effort, Princess Aliénor asked, “May we speak or do you think we ought to keep quiet?”

“It is all right to speak, I think. It might help the others find us faster.”

“What about the Tiochene? Or…or Godric and the blood witch?”

“This forest is quiet enough that we’ll hear anyone’s approach. Don’t worry. I’ll see Godric and the blood witch coming if they find us. The Tiochene—well, if they’re near enough to hear us, we have larger problems anyway.” He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring.

She grimaced a smile back at him and huddled deeper into his cloak. She had the hood up, shadowing her face, but her posture was slumped with defeat.

He slowed his pace a little so they could walk side by side, and so he could see her profile. “What troubles you, Princess Aliénor?”

She gave a bleak little laugh. “Oh, many things, King Thomas.” Her fine brown eyes darted up to meet his gaze. “I was just thinking about…well… You were married once, weren’t you?”

“Yes, a long time ago. Before I was even crowned king. She and I were childhood sweethearts. She was a good woman and a wonderful queen.” Was he trying to remind himself? To use the memory of Rosamund to shield him from Aliénor?

“Your father let you marry for love?”

“My elder brother was alive then. My father didn’t know he would need me for a strategic marriage. He didn’t know my bride would become queen, so he let me have my way. Did your father not ask what you wished before arranging your marriage?”

“My father might have let me pick, but he died too soon and left me a ward of the old Jerdic king. King Bernard.” Aliénor sighed. “And King Bernard rather fancied my lands and treasury for Philippe, who is—
was
—the second son. Poor Philippe Lackland, the nobles at court used to call him before our marriage. One of the last things King Bernard did before he died was marry me off to Philippe.”

“That was a monstrous abuse of the king’s power. You were his sacred charge. He should have at least tried to arrange a respectable match for you outside his family.” He grunted. “I never did like Old Bernard.”

Her lips pinched with anger, perhaps, or remembered despair. “I was scared and alone after my father died, vulnerable. If I’d kicked a little, the king might have called it off. I think he believed Philippe and I could do well together. But then, King Bernard didn’t know me very well when he arranged the marriage. Otherwise he might have hesitated to chain his son to such a harpy. No matter how rich I am.” She hugged her arms around her stomach. “Silly girl that I was, I liked the idea of being Princess of Jerdun. It seems such a foolish reason to take a husband now.”

“You’d just lost your father. It’s understandable that you’d want protection. Security.”

“Family.” She bit her lower lip.

Cursing himself for a fool, still he reached out and caught her hand. He wore his leather gloves, so he felt no slide of skin against skin, and he missed that warmth. He’d missed this. Missed the kindling heat of feelings like this. Aliénor was clever like his first wife. Kind. Beautiful. Brave. But there were rougher edges to Aliénor, brittle places that his sweet, soft Rosamund had not had.

Perhaps it was the hurt in him attracted to the hurt in Aliénor. She knew loss and bitter disappointment as he did. That gave them a common ground that he’d lacked with all the other sunny-souled ladies his courtiers had thrown his way over the years. No, he didn’t need another sweet-voiced Rosamund in his life. He’d had her and lost her. This…
thing
, this awareness between himself and Aliénor, was entirely different. And wonderful. And terrifying.

Having lost something so precious once, how could he willfully turn away from his feelings now? He knew how rare this connection was, how precious. He’d never thought to have this again. How could he throw this unexpected gift back at Fate like an ungrateful child?

She faced him, tilting her chin so the soft morning sun caressed the contours of her features. Her skin was still pale from the chilly morning air, and her freckles stood out like constellations on her skin. He wanted to trace them, learn their patterns. He wanted to trail the pad of his thumb across her mouth and see if her lips were as pillowy soft as they looked.

She caught her breath and leaned, ever so slightly, toward him. “Thomas…” There was a question in her voice, perhaps an invitation too.

Before he could do anything, before he could decide, a drop of water splashed against her face, making her flinch. Another dropped onto his head, cold and hard. He turned his face up, and more rain broke through the screen of branches above to splatter like ice against his face. The rain plopped against the leaves all around them and wet the ground at their feet.

“We shall be soaked.”

“
Bahhh
.”

Thomas took a tight grip on her hand. “Maybe not.” He towed her in the direction of the calling sheep.

In the end, Thomas led her unerringly toward the grassy hill where a flock of sheep were grazing, as well as two miserable-looking guard dogs. Just in time too, for her boots had begun to slide in the new mud. Her skirts were an inch deep in the muck, heavy and dragging against her legs when she walked. The king’s cloak, at least, kept her nice and warm, which gave her a pang of guilt. Without his cloak he was wet through, hair plastered to his head and little runnels of water coursing down his nose.

As they drew close, Aliénor flinched at the sight of two muscular brown dogs amongst the sheep. The hounds wore fearsome spiked collars round their necks. Both beasts’ heads lifted to attention when Aliénor and Thomas broke from the tree line. A small shepherd’s hut lay up ahead, more of a lean-to, really, with no door, only a small opening. Nevertheless, it had a roof, and it looked dry inside.

Aliénor wiped the streaming water off her face. “Are you sure we should go closer, King Thomas? The dogs don’t look quite friendly.”

“As long as we make no move toward the sheep, I think it will be fine. They are here to guard against wolves. See the spiked collars?”

“Yes.”

“Those are to keep a wolf from getting a good grip on their necks. Come on.” He gave her hand a friendly tug. Strange that her hand seemed linked to her heart now, for when he tugged on her arm like that, she felt a similar pull in her chest, a quick jolt of excitement.

Thomas approached the dogs warily, and fumbled for the pouch at his waist. He drew out two strips of the dried meat they’d all been eating for weeks and held them out in his palm.

One of the dogs hesitated with a small whine in the back of his throat, but then he popped to his feet and padded over to the king. Thomas stayed crouched down and watched the dog out of the corner of his eye, slowly easing forward a step at a time. Eventually, he was close enough that the dog sniffed his hand, then took one of the strips of meat. The animal walked away to chew on it happily, its skinny tail wagging in spite of the rain.

The other dog was more standoffish, and though it stood and came closer, it would not come near enough for Thomas to touch. Thomas set the meat on the ground and backed away. The dog darted forward and snatched it up, then scuttled away again with its tail down. Still, it chewed on the treat happily enough. Neither dog made a move to stop them as Aliénor and the king ducked inside the small hut.

As soon as she swung inside the little wooden structure, Aliénor let out a groan of relief. She was wet, aching, and miserable, but there was no more rain pounding against her shoulders. The shack was warmer, with a pile of straw and blankets on the floor. Aliénor threw herself down with a thump.