The Iron Princess (13 page)

All the same, Lothair was a breath away from clearing the room. She was overly stimulated and bound to wear herself out. Fist, Lars and Valen were listening closely as Katia recounted every small detail from Prince Andrei’s private chambers. She relayed scheduled troop movements, numbers, and the supply routes that were being used. She had read dispatches of requests for more men, weapons, and horses and could remember the names of several Slav ships that falsely sailed under merchants’ flags.

Fist had the best handwriting of the group, and had copied the map and Katia’s detailed account four times. It was agreed that the report should first be delivered to the Duke of Saxony, for he would vouch for the loyalty of the men that delivered the information. The King of Sweden, the King of Denmark, and the Count of Flanders also needed to be warned of Prince Andrei’s false words of peace. Prince Andrei and the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I held too much power and sway with the church. This information had to be handled discreetly. With God’s speed, her reports would soon be in the proper hands.

“When will you depart?” Katia’s cheeks were still too pale and thin, her breathing shallow.

“At dawn.” Valen smiled and reached out to grasp her hand. “Yet I will gladly stay and aid with your recovery, if you insist.” The dog was flirting with her.

Katia giggled and swatted at Valen’s shoulder. “Do not tease me now, Valen,” she said with a song in her voice. “I am still too weak to smack you with my sword, but don’t think I won’t try.” Valen chuckled. And Lothair was seconds away from punching someone. His friends needed to get the hell away from her.

Lothair pushed off the wall and came to stand near the headboard. “You’re wearing her out. She needs to rest.”

“She should have something to eat first, and then she should sleep.” Tosha stood next to him with a tray already in hand. He was coming to appreciate Lars’s choice for a wife more and more. Tosha seemed to understand that Katia needed aggressive nursing.

One by one, his friends kissed Katia’s hand and bade her farewell.

“What else does she have need for?” Lothair whispered to Tosha.

“Nothing, Lothair,” Tosha said. “You have done enough. A few days’ rest and she will be much improved. I promise you that I will take very good care of her. She is my heart as well.” She patted his hand and moved toward the bed without another word.

“
My heart as well.
” Women were ridiculous, with their notions of hearts and romance. That was not what this was. This was a matter of honor—of duty. Until she was safely returned to her father, she would continue to be a thorn in his side, nothing more. He would admit that her body, especially her mouth, tortured him beyond the point of human reason, but it had nothing to do with his heart and everything to do with the natural needs of any man.

“I will be across the corridor, if—” He did not bother to finish as both women were smirking at him. He turned and stomped out the door, making his way to his own room. Tosha would find him if Katia needed anything. He dropped down on his bed, fully clothed, and slept like the dead.

***

After her ill-tempered protector abruptly quit her bedchamber, Katia returned her attention to Tosha.

Her friend snickered knowingly at her. “Poor wretch, when do you think he will finally admit that he is in love with you?”

“He is not in love with me.” Katia dug her spoon into a savory plum pudding. “He is very, very disciplined and has no need of love.”

Tosh moved about, tidying up Katia’s room. “The fool is making himself ill he’s so besotted with you. I don’t think he’s slept properly in days.”

“You have it wrong, Tosh. Lars is different, you see. Lars knows the difference between a quality woman and just a warm body. Lothair is . . . he is . . .” She had to think of how to put this. “He is my friend. I care deeply for him, admire him greatly, but I will never interest him romantically for longer than a passing season. I imagine no female could.

“Lothair is destined to do great things,” she continued. “I can tell. He simply has not yet figured out exactly what those great things are.” Katia sighed and put her spoon down. “My grandmother once told me, ‘
Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny. Then we all learn what to do and what to avoid.
’ You see, Tosh, Lars learned what to do—he chose you. Lothair has learned as well, but he has learned to avoid love. I would expect we could blame his parents for forming him this way.”

“You know I love your grandmother, Kat, but she fills your head with worthless gibberish.” Tosha sat down on the bed. “What happened to the girl who told me to ‘seize the day’ and ‘if you wish to be loved, love’? Where is that girl?”

“Tosha!” Katia pushed back her tray. “People like you, who have a partner who is so well suited to them, are so maddening. You think that it is just so easy and that everyone should try falling in love. But life does not work like that for the rest of us.” Katia had had about enough out of her love-drunk friend. “Now, I wish to sleep. Valen and Fist may be riding ahead but I still plan on getting my map to Tronscar myself. I need to convince my father to send ships to get Urho and his family to safety.”

“You are such a grouch when you are ill,” Tosha said and picked up the tray.

“Leave the tray for the servant. You need to practice having people picking up after you before you meet your in-laws.” Katia turned so she was facing away from Tosha. She should not have said that.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tosh dropped the tray down hard on the table by the door.

Katia turned back. Tosh’s hands were dug into her hips. Just as Katia had suspected, Lars had not told her yet.

“Why do you not ask your dear husband?” she said. “I will ring the bell for the servant if I need anything.”

“You are such a little chit.” Tosh slammed the door behind her. “Lars!”

***

A midnight shadow moved silently through her chamber and roused Katia from a deep sleep. A tender touch from a familiar callused hand brushed over her brow. Katia kept her eyes closed and face relaxed. His finger softly stroked behind her ear. She smiled and opened her eyes.

“Go back to sleep. I was just checking that your fever had not returned,” Lothair whispered. “You were talking in your sleep again. I was concerned the fever dreams had returned.” A beam of moonlight crossed over the perfect lines of his long, straight nose.

“How do you feel?” he murmured.

“Well.” She pressed her cheek into his hand. “No fever. Though now that I think on it, I am slightly chilled,” she lied. She was actually perfectly cozy—he must have stoked the fire in the hearth. A glow of soft gold light was coming from the far corner.

His brows were pinched. It was clear he was thinking too hard. She raised her blanket and waited to see if he would take the bait.

He did. To her disappointment, however, his tunic remained in place.

He nestled in close behind her. She raised her head, and without a word being exchanged, his arm slid under her head. She wiggled, turning onto her good arm, and he adjusted his position to curl his long body behind her. They fit together so perfectly, it irked her slightly that he continued to deny what nature had so clearly destined for her. He gathered up the bed coverings, tucking them around her shoulder, and pulled her in tighter at the hip. Perfection.

She lay silently, almost afraid to breathe, afraid that if she said anything, he would change his mind and leave her. Absurdly aware of every inch of her body, she drew in a soundless breath and savored his scent, his heat, the feeling of his heart beating against her back.

Hesitantly, she stretched out the hand of her injured arm, placing it inside his open palm. His fingers closed around it, lacing his fingers with hers.

Katia could weep with joy. Why did he make her feel so disjointed? Even now, in this perfect moment, she wanted to both cry and yell at him, and shake him into understanding what she felt for him. The trouble was, she didn’t fully know what she wanted. What would her life be like when she got home to Tronscar? Once home, she would never sleep next to Lothair again, never feel that heart-pumping rush of exhilaration that she got every time he walked in a room, the surge of unimaginable bliss when he kissed her.

She wasn’t yet able to admit it out loud, but she suspected she knew the answer to her question. The day she said farewell to Lothair, a part of her would die inside.

All they had was this night, this bed. She wiggled and pressed farther into the reassuring heat of his body. His breath was in her hair, tickling her neck and ear.

He squeezed her hipbone, pressing her into the mattress. “By all the saints, woman, cease your torment and sleep.”

“Torment? What nonsense. I needed to stretch.” She pulled their joined hands in under her chin “Sleep well, Lothair.”

Lothair swept his foot out to discover the bed empty and cold. Morning rays of low sunlight peeked through the open shutters. Someone had opened the window that he had secured the night before. He sat up in an instant panic. “Katia?” he whispered toward the privacy screen in the corner.

No response, no noise. Where the hell was she? He rose and walked quickly out of the room, remembering his boots and sword were in his chamber across the corridor—he would not waste time going back for them. He jogged down the stairs, and crashed into Valen’s back, sending them both down onto the stone floor. Cursing under his breath, Lothair pushed himself up until he was eye level with a pair of small, bare feet.

“Goodness, you all right, Lothair?” Katia asked. His eyes traveled up her thin ankles to the hem of her nightgown and robe.

“Please be safe, Fist.” She rose up on her tiptoes as she embraced Fist. “Thank you again for taking my letters. Count Charles is a great man—he will know my hand and will trust my report. ’Tis the best chance of getting the reports into the proper hands.”

Fist nodded.

Lothair pushed past the group of men, shielding her from further view. The doors of the inn were wide open and a gusty, damp autumn wind rushed in. “What the bloody hell are you doing out of bed?”

“Seeing off our friends, of course,” she said. “I forgot to send a few personal letters with them.” She peeked around him and smiled at the men. “Thank you all again. You have no idea how relieved this makes me. We shall follow in a few days.” She reached out for Valen’s offered hand.

“Do us a service in return, my lady, and take good care of our brother.” Valen slapped Lothair’s shoulder. “He looks a little worse for the wear as of late.”

The group of friends laughed. Lothair did not.

“Take care of yourself, Lothair.” Fist embraced him. “Or Katia will have found her next rescue mission.” Fist winked at Katia and she giggled. Lothair scowled.

The senseless girl began to follow the men out the doorway to see them off, but Lothair had had enough. He tossed her over his shoulder and marched toward the stairs.

“I will simply wave farewell from the steps, Lothair. It will take but a minute.” She sounded annoyed.
That made two of them
, he thought.

“No.” He continued up the stairs and then readjusted her to cradle her in his arms.

“Someone is certainly more bearish than usual this morn,” she said. Sighing softly, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Truly, must you be so testy? These are most exciting developments. Our friends will be in Lubeck in less than a fortnight, and days later word will be traveling to Tronscar. I can not tell you how relieved I feel.” Her nimble fingers toyed with the leather laces of his tunic.

He laid her back down in her bed and gave her a hard stare, preparing to lecture her about learning from her mistakes. But in this moment she was beaming up at him, with a smile that began in her eyes. That smile would be the ruin of him—he needed to quit her chamber quickly.

“Are you feeling ill, Lothair?”

He let out a frustrated breath. “You almost died four days ago. Do you think you could do me the courtesy of not catching your death before I can get you home?” He gestured down to her bare feet, which were still exposed before him. “You did not even put stockings on!” He had good cause to be angry and she needed to learn why.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully. I was only going to go for a moment, then come right back and—” She smiled again. “And rejoin you.”

He shook his head at this stupid, beautiful fool; she was playing with fire. “We are not doing this anymore.” He shook his head at her and pointed to the bed. “We will be staying in secure inns and manor homes on our return journey. You are no longer ill. We are not doing this anymore.” He was not going to ravish her, even if she offered herself to him on a silver platter. He was not going to take her. He would repeat that thought a thousand times until it finally sank in.

Dropping her smile, she nodded her understanding and pulled up her blankets high around her shoulders, partly covering her head. Good.

He wanted to pull his hair out. Why was the sight of her lying there alone so maddening?

He stoked the fire back to life and got the hell out of her chamber.

***

Four days after Valen and Fist had departed, Katia dressed in her riding clothes and snuck out for the stables. She saddled Akil and took a few turns around the yard. Her arm throbbed wickedly and she felt as weak as a milksop, but when she cantered the horse briskly to test the feel of her wound, she decided that it was no worse for the wear. The days were rapidly growing shorter—soon they wouldn’t have as much daylight to travel by.

As Katia galloped down the lane, heading out of town on the north road, her heart began to feel lighter. It had been such a miserable few days with Lothair ignoring her. After she had ridden for a good amount of time, she made a sharp turn and returned to the inn’s stables. She had been gone for over an hour, but her arm felt no worse than it had when she had begun.

She slipped down into the soggy straw of the stable and started to unbuckle the horse’s saddle when Lothair suddenly stepped out of the shadows. Apparently he’d been waiting for her.

“After everything you have been through, what the hell have you learned? Nothing!” He shoved her away from the saddle, lifted it off the animal, and slammed it down on the side rail so aggressively that he nearly snapped it in two. Akil jerked his head up and down in alarm. “Bloody hell, Katia! Getting yourself nearly killed a dozen different ways has taught you nothing!”

She stroked the horse’s back to settle him and said in a shouting whisper, “I never asked for your help. I certainly never asked for your advice.” She had never been angrier with a person in all her life, and she did not completely understand why. She picked up some clear straw, balled it in her fist, and began brushing Akil. “I am leaving for Lubeck tomorrow, with or without you,” she said.

“You are going nowhere tomorrow.” He stood before her like a steel wall.

“So I am your prisoner now?” She dug her hands into her hips.

“Hah! You in the stocks? I should have thought of that sooner.”

“My arm is healed. The wound does not open when I move about. My strength is returning and I am departing for Lubeck tomorrow. You can come or not.” She moved to pass him but he grabbed her good arm and whipped her back around, moving them farther away from the agitated horse.

“You don’t get to decide.” He bit the words out, his eyes wide, piercing—pleading.

“You’re right. I will go speak to Lars and Tosh and see if they wish to be on their way. I expect Lars is anxious to get his bride home and off this winter road.” She forced a smirk and pulled away. “We shall take a vote and see who wins.”

“Damn you, Kat! Why are you so bloody difficult? After all we have traveled, all we’ve been through together, when will you ever learn to follow my command?” He stepped toward her, forcing her to step back, pressing her shoulders into the stable wall.

“As soon as you start listening to me, I suppose.” She jerked her chin higher.

“You are not recovered enough to handle a winter road. It could kill you.”

She rose up on her toes in a futile attempt to reduce his height advantage. “Spare me your coddling, Lothair. I will return to Tronscar before winter sets in and I will be in Korski for the spring thaw.” She sucked in a breath and tried to calm herself. Lothair was not the enemy. The Slavic army marching on her brother was the enemy. “I know you are trying to look out for me, and truly I appreciate it. My father will repay you with a mountain of quality steel for your service, I assure you. But I will state plainly, one more time, that I am my own person. I decide if I am well enough to travel, not you.”

She ducked under his arm but he caught her, pulled her back, and pressed his lips to hers with a bruising, feral kiss.

It was not the soft, sensual kiss they’d shared in the tent, or the exciting but naïve kiss they’d shared years ago in Tronscar. This kiss was demanding, claiming, and more than a little frightening.

Out of breath, Katia twisted her face away. They were both panting for air. She clutched the back of his neck and crashed her lips back onto his. His arm locked around her waist and clamped her tightly against him, raising her up off the ground. He kissed her forcefully and she returned his passion, but as they both began to breathe with the kiss, it changed again. Katia moaned deep in her throat and softened more into the kiss.

Lothair sucked at her bottom lip, biting softly and growling with a sound of hunger. It was the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard, and its effect registered deep within her belly. He made her feel like she was some delicious treat and he wanted more. They were both pouring everything they were feeling but could never say into this kiss.

Her feet touched the ground and he broke away, shoving her back into the wall, but she didn’t let go, pulling him into her chest instead.

Had they kissed for a minute or an hour? Her hands were fisted in his cloak, and she tried to focus her vision but it was hopeless. Her want and love for him were blinding. She never wanted him to let her go, but he . . . he was not hers. He had never made a claim on her, and after all this time, if he had never once wanted to name her as his woman, then that was her answer; he never would.

She did not know what she was to him, but she was not his. She was a burden to him and nothing more. She relaxed her hands, breathed, and peered up into his eyes.

The muscles in his jaw flexed and popped under the skin. His red lips thinned out into a hard line. He released her and stepped back.

Standing before him as a newborn colt on shaking legs, she could think of only one thing to say, that she loved him, which would be the worst thing to say because after she spoke those words, he would reject her, and then how would she ever look him in the face again.

Without a word, he turned and marched out of the stables, leaving her dumbfounded and dazed. She had been so warm, on the verge of catching flame, and now she was cold. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She dashed them away, cursing her female weakness.

***

They departed the following day for Lubeck. Lothair decided he did not want to spend the entire journey watching Katia for signs of fatigue or pain, so he kept his distance from her, refusing to look back over his shoulder. Tosha’s overwhelming concern for her friend lessened his worry. She stayed at Katia’s side, frequently asking for breaks. Though the temperatures were brisk and continued to decline, they were favored with five straight days of dry, sunny roads. Each night they found comfortable inns, so he was satisfied that she would not be sleeping in a tent on the frostbitten ground.

Day after day, the stubborn iron princess continued to be his personal trial. Each night he waged an inner war, refusing to let himself check on her comfort or condition. He often selected the chamber farthest from hers—Lars and Tosha would be sleeping in a room near her and the reasonable side of his brain told him that was good enough. He reminded himself hourly that she was safe, dry, and did not need him.

On the sixth morning, a band of heavy gray clouds blanketed the sky. The frost had been thicker this morning. Their horses’ hooves broke through thin layers of ice that had formed across puddles, and the air held an ominous feeling he could not account for.

To many, the Black Forest of Germany was hostile territory, but Lothair had spent several summers as a boy in these parts, so to him it felt like coming home.

They crested a high peak and surveyed the rolling hills and miles of well-traveled road that lay ahead. There was a sparse patchwork of thinly treed forests and cropless fields to the west. To the east, the wheat and barley fields lay dormant. The trees that fringed the denser evergreen forest in the distance had shed their colorful foliage, and the ground was littered with crisp dry leaves that danced high into the air on the slightest gust of wind.

Lothair signaled for their party to halt.

In the distance, he saw a collection of black specks descending down the main road, heading in their direction. The group of riders approached at charging speed. Lothair couldn’t yet discern the banners and flags that they carried. For days, they had been traveling the southern realm of Bavaria, which paid homage to his father. He estimated that they were less than a half-day’s ride to his grandmother’s castle.

Regardless of the familiar territory, Lothair grew ill at ease.

He would not slip and let his guard down so close to home. He had been gone for months—well over a year, he suddenly realized. When he departed Lubeck, his father’s lands were easily held and he had doubled his wealth and manpower with his new wife’s dowry. Still, the friendliness of the fast-moving convoy couldn’t be taken for granted. They must secure the women and prepare for every possibility.

“Lars, take the women back to the tree line.” Lars moved quickly toward his wife.

“Wait for my signal.” Lothair drew out his sword and was about to charge ahead when he caught Katia’s gaze. She stared at him, wide-eyed, holding her sword in her good arm, which was not her favored sword arm.

He approached her side and spoke quietly. “Go with Lars—they are most likely patrols from my grandmother’s castle. But if they are not, you are not to leave Lars’s side.” Her eyes were wide, and beautiful, and distracting him once again. “Understood?”

“Be careful,” she whispered. “I will be right behind you if you need me.” She winked, jerked lightly at her horse’s bridle, and galloped in the direction of the trees, her long gold hair trailing on the wind.

Lothair charged out ahead, reminding himself to wipe off the smile that was etched on his face. That shameless wink of hers could get a man killed.

As the lead rider approached, Lothair could see that he carried his father’s shield of the lion and wore the family colors of red and gold. Relief swept over him.

“Who goes there?” The lead rider appeared the same age as Lothair, with similar hair and eye color—could be a distant relation.