The Princes Determined Page 6

  She was tired and hungry. She had not thought to bring food, but she survived on plants she found in the wild. Her father had not taught her much, but he shared his knowledge of botany with her when she was younger. She barely slept, too intent on reaching Sara to sleep more than a few hours at a time.

  The journey was long and grueling, but she finally arrived close to noon on the third day.

  Roarke’s home was near the base of the largest mountain in Bevelaire. The location offered both shelter and protection. She’d never been so glad to see the dark, gloomy manor in her life.

  As she rode toward the manor, she glanced about her in confusion. It was odd that no one moved about the yard. There always was such a flurry of activity. Her father was a demanding overlord. Perhaps since her father had fled, the workers were taking a much needed break.

  She dismounted in the courtyard and left her horse grazing on the overgrown grass. Where was everyone? She entered the house, but still no one appeared.

  “Sara!” she called out.

  The house was strangely quiet. Not that the manor was typically a boisterous place, but something was wrong, without a doubt.

  “Henrick?” She tiptoed farther into the hall and called for the family’s elderly manservant, but he did not come.

  Nerves gripped her. She had to find Sara.

  She took the stairs two at a time, careered down the hall, and threw open the door to Sara’s chamber. The room had been ransacked. The sparse furniture was broken and overturned. A choked scream clogged her throat as she took in the scene and a still figure on the bed.

  “Sara.” Her voice came out high-pitched. She stumbled forward and reached for her sister.

  At first she wasn’t sure if Sara was alive or dead. She was lashed to her bed, and angry welts covered much of her face. One eye was swollen, and dried blood caked the front of her gown.

  She reached Sara’s side and grasped her shoulders. “Sara!”

  After a few heartrending moments, her sister opened her clear hazel eyes and focused on Rowena. She tried to speak, but her voice was a harsh whisper. “Rowena?”

  Rowena clenched her fists. “Did he do this to you, Sara? I will kill him with my own two hands. I swear to you I will!”

  Sara shook her head from side to side. Her dry, cracked lips parted, and words tumbled out. “No, it was not him. You need to leave now, Rowena, before they return.”

  “They?” Rowena paused as she heard footsteps heading down the hall to them. There was no time to lose. She needed to protect her sister.

  Rowena slammed the door shut and bolted it. She tripped over a piece of broken wood and reached out a hand to break her fall. She leaped back to her feet to return to Sara’s bedside and struggled to untie the knots that held Sara’s limbs in place.

  A teardrop ran from the corner of Sara’s eye to the hairline of her temple. “Oh, Rowena. I hoped you wouldn’t come. They forced me to write that note. I didn’t want to, but…”

  Rowena shushed her and finally loosened one of the knots that held her sister. “Save your strength, Sara. There is no need to apologize. Tell me who did this.”

  “The rebels.”

  Rowena’s heart almost stopped. “How many are there?”

  “I’ve seen two. They came here not long after the prince’s soldiers left. Most of the servants managed to flee.” A flicker of despair crossed Sara’s face. “I hid, but they found me.”

  No wonder the manor appeared deserted. Anger coursed through Rowena. Sara had been left unprotected. Damn their hides. “Has our father been here?”

  Sara shook her head. “No, I don’t believe so. I heard a rumor he was coming home, but he never appeared.”

  “Are you hurt in other ways?” Rowena held her breath as she waited for Sara to answer. She released it in a rush as her sister shook her head again.

  “No. My face is the worst of it.”

  “Thank God for that at least.” Rowena’s fingers tore at the knots of rope that restrained Sara, desperate to get her loose.

  Someone pounded on the door, and Sara’s face filled with panic. “We do not have much time, Rowena.”

  Rowena growled in frustration as she fought with the ropes. “What do they want with you?”

  “It is not me they want.” Sara’s blue eyes filled with despair. “The rebels knew a letter from me would lure you here when they intercepted all the notes you wrote to me. I refused, but they forced me.”

  Oh lord, Talin had been right. The rebels would use her to their advantage. They used her sister as well.

  Fresh anger overtook her. She was tired of being at the mercy of men. “Sara, listen to me. We don’t have much time. If I can get you out of these bonds, can you run?”

  “I … I think so.” Sara did not look convinced, but she nodded.

  “I have a horse in the courtyard. When they break down the door, I want you to run. Do you hear me? You run and get out of here. Find somewhere to hide, and don’t come out until you know it’s safe.”

  Sara trembled, but her chin set with resolution. “I won’t leave you, Rowena.”

  One last knot and she succeeded in freeing her sister’s arms. She clutched Sara’s chilled hands in both of hers. “You must. It is me they want. Not you. They will not pursue you if they have me.”

  The wooden door splintered under the vicious kicks being aimed at it from the other side. Rowena undid the ropes from Sara’s legs and helped her to her feet. She shielded her with her body, prepared to fight to save her sister.

  Sara reached for her hand and clung to her. “I love you.”

  Rowena squeezed her hand. “I love you, too. Now run!”

  She shoved Sara toward the door as two men barreled through the opening at them. As she’d suspected, the men did not pursue Sara as her sister rushed past them and fled down the hall.

  Rowena waited until the sounds of her sister’s footsteps grew too faint to hear. She faced the two men and lifted her chin, though she knew she was defeated. Both rebels were built like blacksmiths. There was no hope she could get away.

  “It’s her,” the eldest of the rebels remarked.

  The younger man shoved his partner forward. “I see that, you dunce. Get her!”

  Rowena was quick and nearly made it out the door. One of the rebels grabbed her skirt and tugged her back. She wanted to cry in frustration. He wrapped beefy arms around her, and they may as well have been steel bands across her chest insomuch as she could budge them.

  “Put her in the dungeon with the other prisoner.”

  The other prisoner?

  She struggled, kicking and scratching whatever part of the rebels she could. One rebel cried out in pain as her fingernails viciously slashed across his face.

  “You bitch!” The wounded rebel slapped her across the face.

  Tears filled her eyes as pain exploded in her cheek, but she refused to let them fall. She was used to pain. Her father delighted in punishing her until she cried and begged him to stop. Roarke took longer and longer each time until he’d finally tired of the game.

  Her face stung, but she continued to struggle as she was hauled down the stairs to the dungeon. The moldy, pungent smell almost gagged her. She always hated the dungeon. As a child, she stayed far away from it, even though a prisoner had not been kept in them for several decades.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she was set on her feet. She lifted her leg and dug her feel as hard as she could into the toe of his boot. The rebel cursed and tightened his grip on her.

  “Let me go!” Rowena screamed. She bit the rebel’s hand as he placed it over her mouth to silence her.

  “She bit me!” He yelped and jerked her against him.

  The rebel kept a tight grip on her as he forced her to walk forward. She stumbled, and he easily lifted her and forced her to keep walking.

  The second rebel lifted a lantern, and the meager light illuminated a figure huddled in the corner. The prisoner lifted his head, and Rowena gasped.

/>   “Father?”

  He was not restrained. There appeared to be no need. His hands were visibly broken, and it looked as if he had not eaten in weeks.

  “Rowena?” His voice cracked on her name.

  A rush of pity filled her. No matter how she hated her father, she would never wish his condition upon another person. She elbowed her captor in the ribs and jerked away from him to run to her father, but she was snagged about the waist and tossed onto the ground.

  A growl of rage erupted from her father’s throat. She was dazed with pain, but she watched as he surged upwards and rushed toward the rebels.

  “Nooooo!” she screamed as one of the rebels sank a knife deep into her father’s chest.

  He dropped to his knees and fell face forward on the dusty ground. She crawled to his side and reached for him. “Father?”

  He turned toward her, and his cracked lips parted to speak. “Not me. The king … not me.”

  “What are you saying?” Panic made her voice shrill.

  “The rebels.” Her father stopped speaking, and a drop of blood escaped his mouth.

  She was wrenched away from him, and she knew in that instant she probably would not make it out alive.

  * * * *

  “If I ever find her, I am going to tie her to my side and never let her out of my sight again.”

  Talin still couldn’t believe she’d been able to saddle a horse and ride out of the city unimpeded. If not for Hugh and Collin, he would not have known she’d been gone for an entire day.

  Their chase had been hampered by a series of unfortunate events. First, Talin’s horse had gone lame not long after they’d left N’ior, and they’d been forced to return for a fresh mount. Then, a thunderstorm had come, and heavy rains washed away the tracks they’d been following. The soldiers sent to escort him followed, but Talin had ridden ahead, impatient to reach Bevelaire and Rowena.

  “We can’t be more than a few minutes behind her.” Hugh motioned toward the fresh hoof prints in the narrow lane they travelled down. “These are new tracks.”

  Talin shot a glance at Hugh d’Arcy, who rode at his side. “I suppose you think this is all a grand adventure?”

  Hugh winked. “I must admit I’m enjoying my first role as a hero, Your Highness.”

  “I wish I shared the same outlook.”

  Instead, Talin was irritated by the fact he was hot, damp, and muddier than hell. Underneath his irritation lay a mind-numbing fear he would be too late.

  Hugh drew back on his reins, and focused on something in the distance. He put out a hand to warn the prince.

  “There is a rider, Your Highness.” He drew out an arrow and held it loosely at his side.

  Talin held a hand over his eyes to watch as the horse and rider moved closer. He squinted in concentration. “Put away your weapon, Hugh. It is a young girl.”

  Hugh softly cursed. “She rides Lady Rowena’s mare, sire.”

  Talin jerked to attention as fear held him in its grip. He put his heels to his mount’s flank and galloped forward.

  The girl could be no older than sixteen. Her face was covered in welts and bruises, but the resemblance between her and Rowena was remarkable.

  She was not a good rider, and her grip on the reins was tight as she drew the horse to a stop. The horse shied, but she managed to keep her seat.

  Her eyes were filled with panic as she slid from the saddle and dropped to the ground. “Please help my sister!”

  Every bit of blood in his body was replaced by ice water. If Rowena was hurt, he would have the person responsible flayed alive. “Where is she?”

  The girl pointed behind her. “At the manor, my lord. The rebels have her.”

  “How many?” he asked in a terse tone.

  “Two,” the girl replied.

  He glanced at Hugh as he gave a command. “Tend to Lady Rowena’s sister. She cannot be left unprotected. I will go ahead. When the soldiers arrive, send them to the manor.”

  Hugh appeared as if he would argue, but common sense must have won out. “Be careful, my lord.”

  Talin flashed him a dark look. “There are only two of them. If they’ve hurt her, I…” His voice trailed off as he remembered the presence of Rowena’s young sister. Her eyes were wide with fright and dwarfed her small face.

  He leaned over to touch her chin. “Do not fret, my dear. Your sister will be safe. Stay here with d’Arcy, and we shall return in a moment.”

  Talin rode to the manor as if the hounds of hell nipped at his heels. As he approached, he scanned the exterior of the building. The courtyard looked as if the plantings had not been attended to in several weeks. The hedges were untrimmed, and the grass was not quite a foot tall. It had not been in that condition a few months ago when he’d come to sign the betrothal contract.

  He entered the house with caution and listened for any sound that would let him know where Rowena and the rebels were. There was complete silence. The hair on the back of his neck stood up in apprehension.

  What part of the house was she in? He wished he’d thought to ask Rowena’s sister. It was too late now.

  He performed a quick search of the first floor, but did not find her. The second floor was also empty. He knew she had been there, though. There were signs of a struggle in one of the chambers, and drops of blood stained the floor.

  Terror replaced his alarm. Where was she?

  He tore through the manor in his frantic search, but she was not in any of the rooms. The only area left to search was the dungeon. It was an obvious choice, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.

  He located the entrance. The door was already ajar, and the faint murmur of voices reached his ears. One was feminine.

  Thank God! He was not too late.

  He crept down the wooden stairs toward the dirt floor. The walls were damp with moisture, and the air was stale with the scent of rat droppings. He shuddered to think of Rowena being here.

  Then he saw her.

  She was chained by her arms to the wall at the far end. A second person lay crumpled on the floor. Two large men, most likely the rebels, were in the room with her.

  One stood next to Rowena, a long, vivid red scratch down the side of his face. Rowena must have put up a struggle. Thankfully, they had not killed her because she was more valuable to them alive than dead.

  He withdrew the sword he wore at his waist and inched forward. Thanks to the daily training he took part in—he should be able to take the pair of rebels.

  He got the first one by surprise. He brought the hilt of his sword across the man’s head, and he was down.

  The second one proved to be more of a struggle.

  “Talin!”

  Rowena screamed his name in time for him to dodge a heavy swipe of the man’s dagger. Unfortunately, he was thrown off balance, and his sword skittered across the floor.

  The rebel pounced, and Talin rolled to avoid the other man’s dagger. He jumped back to his feet. The rebel now stood between him and his sword.

  He was going to have to fight. The other man had at least fifty pounds on him, but Talin was quicker.

  He circled the rebel, continuing to dodge every swipe of the man’s hand. The fight went on forever as he dipped and swayed and retreated as much as he could. Talin’s entire concentration went toward keeping out of reach of the dagger, while at the same time making sure the fight went nowhere near Rowena. The rebel began to tire, and Talin knew now was his chance.

  He shot forward, wrapped his arms around the waist of the man, and knocked him to the ground. The man fell hard, making an oof sound as Talin landed a solid punch into his belly. He landed another hit, this one against the rebel’s cheek.

  It was like punching a brick wall.

  The rebel fought back and landed several good punches of his own. Pain exploded against Talin’s jaw as the man’s fist connected.

  He blinked to clear the stars from his eyes, but the pain gave him the determination he needed. With one final
punch to the man’s face, he succeeded in knocking him unconscious.

  Rowena’s voice echoed off the stone walls. “Oh, my god, Talin!”

  He drew a breath into his burning lungs and leaped to his feet to hurry to Rowena.

  She sagged against her chains. “I thought I was going to watch him kill you! What are you doing here?”

  “Chasing you like I swore I would.” He rattled the chains that held her to the wall. “Where is the key?”

  “He has it.” Rowena nodded toward the first rebel, who was still unconscious.

  Talin rushed to retrieve the key from his pocket and returned to Rowena. The chains were rusty, and her wrists were scraped from where she’d struggled against the restraints. He undid the chains, and she fell against him.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him in a fierce grip. “Thank you!”

  The feel of her in his arms almost undid him. Relief, pure and sweet, poured through his veins.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispered into her hair, which was caked with dirt and mud.

  “I’m sorry. I should have…”

  He cut her off by placing a finger against her lips. “We can talk later, Rowena. We have to go.”

  “My sister!” Her eyes widened with belated alarm.

  “She is with d’Arcy. Don’t worry, Rowena. She is safe now.”

  “Thank God.” The fight in her dissolved in an instant.

  “I will take you to her. Let’s go.” He put an arm around her waist and turned her toward the stairs, but she suddenly cried out.

  “Wait!” She pulled out of his arms and knelt by the body at their feet.

  He had completely forgotten about the man during the struggle. She rolled him onto his back, and Talin recognized him.

  “Roarke?”

  He knelt beside her and knew from a glance the man was dead. Talin went numb. He didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed.

  The man he hated for most of his life was gone. With him also died the truth. Now he would never know what happened to his father.

  Ten years of hate and the desire for revenge slid away. He glanced at Rowena and softly cursed. No matter how he felt about Roarke, it was his duty to care for his daughter.