The Secret Princess (12 page)

“Your father has lied to them a thousand times and you have never betrayed the
truth against him. Once Bertie and I are gone, you can tell Prince Luke everything. Tell him even that I begged you to keep the truth from him for me—as I am indeed begging you. Have I not served your father’s household faithfully all these years and trained your sister in all womanly arts?”

A wry smile bent Prince Warrick’s lips. “Indeed, Evelyn, if there is any womanly grace Rosalind possesses,
she learned it from you. You are the most faithful servant in my father’s household, and the only one I truly trusted. That is why I find it so startling that you are asking me to keep the truth a secret now. Nonetheless...” He quit stroking his beard and put his hands behind him, puffing out his chest, his mind made up.

“My betrothed has been telling me of Christianity, of the need to help
widows and orphans and to do well by all. For your and Bertie’s sakes, and for your sakes only, I have long felt some guilt for killing your father. If I agree to keep your secret and help you take your leave to your homeland, will you absolve me of all guilt in your father’s death?”

Evelyn stared for just a moment. What choice did she have, really? If she refused him, she and her brother
would die. Nothing would bring her father back. “You are forgiven,” she promised.

“And what of Bertie? I don’t want him skulking off to the north harboring resentment against me only to return to avenge his father’s death.” Warrick narrowed his eyes as he spoke, and Evelyn realized he’d given away his true motivation in those words. More than forgiveness, he wanted assurance that he and his
descendants would be safe from revenge.

“Bertie?” Evelyn called softly down the hall.

Her brother stepped forward slowly, his eyes down.

“Bertie, Warrick wants assurance—”

“I know what he wants. I heard him.” Bertie spoke in Frankish as he looked up at her with eyes that flashed with anger and unshed tears. “He killed our father.”

“And if we both die—will that bring Father
back?” she pleaded with him. “If we are to have any hope of ever returning home, we must forgive Warrick for what he did.”

“He killed our father,” Bertie repeated.

“In battle,” Evelyn reminded her brother. “Our father rode into battle knowing he might die. He took that risk upon himself knowing full well what might happen. If you refuse Warrick, he’ll tell Prince Luke who we are. You
know just as well as I do what will happen then.”

Bertie looked up at her with pleading eyes, and a lone tear overflowed down his cheek. “I don’t like it.”

“We do what we have to do to survive,” Evelyn reminded her brother. “Can you forgive Warrick?”

The Illyrian prince had been watching them carefully, scowling as they spoke together in a language he couldn’t understand. Now his
eyebrows rose expectantly as Bertie turned to face him.

“I absolve you.” The younger Rabertus spoke in clear Illyrian. “You need not fear any revenge from me.”

* * *

The meal had ended, but Luke was still deep in conversation with Warrick when he saw Evelyn and her brother rise to leave. He and the Illyrian prince had already discussed Garren’s policies and recent actions at length,
and Warrick had vowed to preserve their peace even if it meant restraining his father.

Even better, Warrick had agreed with Luke on the issue of the Frankish slaves. Not only did Warrick concur that his father had no right to hold them, but he’d encouraged Luke to return them to their homeland. Luke’s only disappointment was that when he’d asked the Illyrian prince if he knew anything of
Evelyn and Bertie’s family, Warrick had answered with an apology.

“I cannot tell you anything of that,” Warrick had said, pressing his encouragement that Luke send the siblings back to the Holy Roman Empire.

The conversation had served its purpose. Luke thanked the prince again before rising to hurry after Evelyn. She and her brother had sat far from him for the meal, with his various
guards and Warrick’s men in between. Though he’d been able to feast his eyes upon her beauty, sparkling like a rare jewel in the royal clothes he’d lent her for the occasion, he hadn’t spoken with her since he’d left her in Hilda’s care.

“Evelyn!” he called after her, surprised to find she’d already reached the end of the hall, where it bent toward the staircase that led to the guest rooms
where she and her brother would stay the night. Was she in a hurry to leave him?

He wished he’d had an opportunity to speak with her sooner. Ever since their conversation earlier on the road, eagerness had burned inside him. If Evelyn was royal, Luke wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her after all. But after tempering his hopes during his many long months of searching for her, he felt cautious
approaching her. She’d run from him before. It wouldn’t surprise him if she tried to run again.

She turned to look behind her, saw him and froze, bowing as he approached. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“I haven’t had a moment to speak with you.” He took her hands in his and found them cold. “You look so very lovely. The gown and jewels suit you.”

“Many thanks for the use of them. Am I borrowing
from your brother’s wife?”

“They were my mother’s,” Luke explained swiftly. “She would be glad to know they were put to good use.”

Evelyn looked impatiently down the hall toward the stairs, and Luke rushed to make his request. “I would like to speak with you. Would you walk with me?”

The blonde woman hesitated and glanced at her brother.

“Bertie is free to go as he pleases.”
Luke turned to address the boy. “Do you know your way back to your room?”

“I can find it,” Bertie assured him and smiled up at his sister. “Enjoy your walk. It’s a lovely evening.”

Luke still had hold of Evelyn’s hand, so as her brother turned to go on his way, Luke led her in the other direction. “It is a lovely evening.” He echoed Bertie’s words. “And the view from the towers is something
to be seen, especially now as the sun sets over the sea.”

He led her to the outer wall of the city, which abutted the royal residences along the eastern wall. Together they climbed the many spiraling steps, past the narrow arrowslit windows, to the room at the top of the tower with its wide arched windows.

As he’d hoped, the sinking sun had lit the sky with purple clouds set in a sea
of gold and pink, the vibrant colors reflected on the rippling waves of the sea beyond the city.

Evelyn gasped.

“Splendid, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t seen anything so lovely in longer than I can remember,” she answered.

Luke couldn’t pull his eyes away from her face. “Nor have I,” he confessed sincerely.

Evelyn looked away from the sunset just long enough to glance up at him.
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it, but the sunset was only an excuse. I have wanted to speak with you again alone, but I have not had the opportunity all day. We left our conversation unfinished, and I have thought a great deal on our words since then.”

Concern flashed across Evelyn’s features, and she looked toward the sunset again. The colors had turned a
richer red, the purple clouds had lengthened to deep gray shadows, and the sun was a glowing crimson orb that kissed the horizon.

Luke took a step closer to her and placed one hand at her waist. “Your words filled me with hope,” he explained.

“How?”

“Do you not see? You come from a noble family. Though Garren enslaved you, nonetheless, you are of worthy blood.”

“Worthy?” Evelyn
echoed in a whisper.

“Since you saved my life in the woods, I have dreamed of you. When I learned you were a slave, I believed I must give you up forever. But you are noble.”

Evelyn’s lips parted, but she did not speak.

Luke gazed at her as the sun cast a rosy glow across her, highlighting everything beautiful about her.

“I long to kiss you,” he confessed.

Evelyn’s eyes
widened.

“With your permission?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I am not worthy of your attention, but you may do as you please.”

Still unsure whether it was wise to give in to his longing, Luke nonetheless couldn’t resist. He found her lips to be all he had hoped—soft, sweet, blissful. He lingered longer than he should have, every fiber of his being intent on pulling her closer, though his
conscience told him he must step away. Just as he’d feared, it took all of his strength to end the kiss and not pull her close again.

He drew in a ragged breath as he held her tight to him and nestled his chin atop her head again. It was safer that way, with her lips out of sight, though the taste of her lingered irresistibly on his mouth. “When we reach Castlehead, I will ask for my brother’s
blessing.”

“Blessing?” The woman seemed entirely dazed.

Luke was uncertain whether he was capable of thinking clearly in the wake of their kiss, but he pulled together a coherent sentence. “For you and I—” he stroked her hand tenderly as he tried to put the surging of his heart into words “—to spend more time together in the future.”

“What?” Evelyn gasped.

“You must know how
I care for you,” Luke clarified. “If you’re of royal blood, we need only the king’s permission to keep company with one another.”

“Keep company?” Evelyn’s grasp of the Illyrian tongue, usually so astute, seemed to fail her now.

Normally Luke might have shied away from speaking such tender words, but Evelyn’s kiss had strengthened his resolve. His affections for her grew by the moment.
“To see more of one another, that I might woo you.”

To his surprise, Evelyn pulled loose of his embrace and stepped backward, shaking her head. “No. No, you simply can’t. We can’t. It isn’t possible.”

Chapter Twelve

E
velyn staggered back. What had happened? Where had she gone wrong?

The prince only chuckled. “It’s all right, Evelyn. Don’t you see? That’s what I’ve just been explaining. Everything you told me on the road is proof that you’re of royal blood. Our stations in life are not so different. There’s no reason we can’t be together.”

She looked away toward the
sunset, hoping to gather her thoughts, but the sun had disappeared into darkness. “But I’m to return to my homeland.” She stared at him and prayed he’d understand. She had no hope of keeping her father’s identity a secret for very much longer. Certainly if Prince Luke asked his brother for permission to woo her, they’d want to know all about her history, the names of her parents. Likely they’d expect
to see her official pedigree on paper. Everything would come out then. She would die. Bertie would die.

Luke would hate her.

The hope in his eyes faded as he stared at her. “You don’t care for me? Your kiss told me otherwise.”

A pained whimper escaped her throat as she stared at him, unable to pull her eyes away, though she hated the pain she saw there—the pain and confusion she’d
caused him. The feel of his kiss lingered on her lips, tempting her to accept his words and kiss him again. She would have loved to bring him only happiness and joy, but instead her words had erased his smile. And he still didn’t know the whole truth. How much more would he hate her then?

“You asked to kiss me.” The words stumbled from her lips as she tried to sort her thoughts and make some
sense of what had happened, to find where everything had gone wrong. She hadn’t ever intended to fall for the prince or even allow herself to dream of such happiness. And yet, given the way her emotions roiled inside her now, she knew she had come to feel far more for him than she ought. “I suppose I should have refused.”

“You kissed me back,” he challenged her.

She shook her head. Had
she? Perhaps she had, but she hadn’t meant to. Emotion dulled her thoughts, the memory of their kiss filling her mind—his touch, his scent, the feel of him. The great heady beauty of that moment, which she knew she shouldn’t have experienced at all. “I couldn’t have,” she whispered.

“Indeed you did. Here, I’ll show you.”

He pulled her into his arms again, and before she could quite put
together what was happening, he kissed her even longer this time, flooding her every thought with such warmth and delight that she couldn’t nearly think about what she was doing.

The prince let her go slowly, his lips lingering a hairbreadth away from hers as though he might be about to pull her close again. “See?” His voice sounded mellow, content. “You kissed me back.”

“I couldn’t
help it.” Her words came out in a helpless squeak. Oh, this was a mess. She hated keeping one secret from him. So much worse to make him believe she didn’t care when she did. “Please, forgive me.”

“For kissing me back?”

“For feeling.” She tried to push him away but got only as far as placing one hand against his chest. There it rested, tempted to clutch his shirt and pull him closer.

“Feeling?”

“Feeling what I oughtn’t, when I oughtn’t.”

“But I’ve just told you, everything is all right. My brother will give his blessing.”

“No, he won’t.” She shook her head, tempted to confess everything right there on the spot, if only to make him understand. But she couldn’t do that. Bertie was asleep in one of the rooms below. He’d never make it out alive.

But Luke
stilled her shaking head with the gentle touch of his hand. “How could he refuse me the one woman I’ve ever longed for, the very woman who gave me back my life and in whose presence I feel the greatest joy?”

His words, so kind and sincere, twisted her stomach to knots and made her heart throb as though it might burst from her chest. She needed to convince him not to feel any of those things.
But how? His words made her want to feel all the things for him she dared not feel. She had to deny what she felt. And yet she couldn’t lie to him, not when withholding the truth had already caused so much pain.

There was only one thing for it. She’d have to confess her father’s full identity, but she’d need his promise first that he would not hurt her brother. Surely, given the way he felt
about her, she could convince him to suspend justice long enough to see her brother safely from Lydia. “I have something to tell you.” The words came out all in a string, run together, so that it took the prince a moment to sort them out.

“Something to tell me?”

She nodded. “But you’ve got to promise you won’t hurt my brother. Send him home to Aachen, but do not harm him in any way.”

“Your brother,” Luke repeated, looking down out the window to where the drawbridge stretched across a deep chasm. A lone pale horse clopped across the wooden beams, his hooves echoing against the castle walls. “Your brother,” Luke said again, squinting down.

Evelyn looked down, as well, and recognized the horse and the bearskin the rider used in lieu of a saddle and the youth who clung
to the animal’s mane as he rode determinedly into the night.

“My brother,” she echoed, and her heart sank. “Where is he going at this hour of night?”

* * *

Luke hurriedly led Evelyn back down the stairs, regretting that their conversation had been interrupted but knowing they must hurry if they were to catch up to Bertie before he became lost on the unfamiliar roads of Lydia. Luke
found Warrick in the courtyard near the front gate.

“Bertie just left,” Luke called to the Illyrian, not bothering to greet him. “Did he say anything to you? Do you know where he is headed?”

“My men just brought me a report.” Warrick strode alongside them toward the stables. “Bertie inquired after a project my father had proposed, one which I had advised him not to pursue.”

“What?”
Luke demanded, impatient for answers.

“My father believes there is gold to be mined in a network of caves southwest of this city. I told him to keep to his side of the borders, but from what my men tell me, he has not listened.”

“And what of Bertie?” Luke questioned further.

“He knew of the mines and asked my men for directions.”

Evelyn gasped. “And they told him?”

Warrick
raised a hand. “I have already rebuked them for sharing so openly. Nonetheless, they recognized the boy and didn’t think he posed any threat.”

“He’s riding to the mines?” Evelyn sounded mournful. “At night? In a strange land where he doesn’t even speak the language.” She placed one hand over her heart and looked up at Luke. “Please. We must go after him.”

Luke looked at her, distressed
over her brother’s safety, and every protest he might have spoken melted away. He knew how much she cared for Bertie. Already he’d been inconvenienced for the boy’s sake many times. “Can you change clothes quickly? We’ll make better time if you’re dressed to ride.”

Gratitude filled Evelyn’s face as she beamed up at him. “Yes. Very quickly. Shall I meet you at the stables?”

He nodded.
“As soon as you possibly can. I know these roads. We should be able to catch up to him. And check your brother’s room to be certain he’s not there. I’d hate to ride after him only to find someone else had taken his horse.”

“I’ll look, though I’m nearly certain that was my brother we saw,” Evelyn called as she turned and hurried away.

Warrick clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I shall
ride with you.”

“But your father is expecting you tomorrow. You were planning to start your journey before the dawn. We’ll likely not be back from the mines before then, and then you’ll need to sleep before you leave.”

“I’ll dispatch a messenger and tell my father I’ve gone to look into the project he pursued against my advice.” Warrick chuckled. “He can hardly begrudge me that detour,
not when he knows he is guilty of activity on Lydian land, in direct violation of the peace treaty.”

Luke agreed. “If you’re not afraid of upsetting your father, I would welcome your aid there. Those are Illyrian men among the mines. I’ve observed them there myself.”

“King John asked me if I knew of my father’s involvement,” Warrick said. “I knew only that my father should not have sent
men there. When I inquired further among my men, I learned they, too, had been charged with keeping the secret from me. But I am heir to the throne of my father, of higher rank than any among my father’s men. The men at the mines will listen to me and obey my orders when I tell them to suspend their project.” As Warrick spoke, he gestured to his men, giving them orders to ride with him.

Luke found Sacha and Dan refreshed from their earlier journey, eager to ride. Having served with him in the Illyrian borderlands, they knew the language and the area, as well as the nature of the men they would soon face. When Luke explained to them their mission, Dan groaned.

“The boy talked to me about the mines as we traveled on the road,” the soldier confessed. “I thought little of it—simply
assumed he’d overheard us talking about it.”

“What did you tell him?” Luke quizzed.

“Nothing much. I just confirmed that we watched the Illyrians. He asked about their numbers, their positions, whether they’d set up guards.” Dan shook his head. “I didn’t think the boy was planning to go there, but I see now that’s precisely why he was so interested.”

Luke didn’t like it, but Dan’s
words only confirmed his fears. The mines were dangerous. Bertie had no idea what he was getting into. Evelyn loved her brother and would be heartbroken if anything happened to him. They had to reach Bertie before the Illyrians captured him or anything worse befell the boy. “Let us ready our horses. Make haste to ride. We’ll need provisions.” Luke turned to Sacha. “Quickly, whatever the cook can
spare.”

“Enough for one night?” Sacha clarified.

Luke hoped they could retrieve Bertie in that time, but given the delicate situation with the Illyrians encamped there, he would be wise not to be overly confident. “Or more if you can gather it quickly. I’m not sure how long this will take.”

* * *

Evelyn wanted to sob with frustration as they rode through the darkness toward
where Lydia’s enemies were encamped. Why hadn’t she suspected her brother’s plans sooner? As she’d feared, he wasn’t in his room, and now that she thought of it, she realized he’d surely gone in search of the gold. Of course he had. He’d been focused on that goal from the moment the prince had verified there was gold in the caves.

But she’d been too distracted with thoughts of the prince
and the intrigues necessary to keep the truth hidden to see the plans Bertie was making. She’d been so focused on deceit, she hadn’t seen her brother’s real intentions.

She feared for Bertie’s safety. But the sobs that welled up in her chest, which she kept down with increasing difficulty, came from the knowledge that she’d brought trouble on Lydia. Her brother’s activities were forcing them
to act, to face the Illyrians before Luke had conferred with King John about the best plan of action. What if a skirmish resulted? What if she brought war to this peaceful Christian kingdom?

What if something happened to Prince Luke?

Her heart tore at the thought, and she choked back the sob that threatened to escape her lips and echo through the night. The prince had only ever been
kind to her. She deserved none of his attentions. Certainly she didn’t deserve his patience with her brother or the actions he took now to bring the boy back.

Above all, she knew she didn’t deserve his affection, not when she’d kept the truth from him.

The moon had risen high in the sky, its surface nearly round, its light brilliant as the silver beams lit their way, illuminating Prince
Luke’s face with its gentle glow. Evelyn watched him ride, his brow knit with determination as he led his men bravely forth.

The prince had said he wanted to woo her.

She couldn’t comprehend it. Prince Luke could have had his pick of any woman in a hundred kingdoms, yet he chose to smile upon her. The memory of his kisses surged through her, warming her in spite of the cool of the night.
She didn’t deserve the risks he’d taken on her behalf. Certainly she wasn’t worthy to be held by him, to be kissed by him.

And yet she longed to kiss him again.

Evelyn lifted her eyes to the great starry heavens above and prayed silently that God would forgive her for obscuring the truth, for letting her heart run away when she knew full well she ought to have restrained it, and for
continuing to long for Luke’s affection even though she knew the two of them could not be together.

* * *

“Silently now. We may encounter a posted guard at any time.” Luke dismounted and tied his horse among the tree cover that would hide the animals, at least until broad daylight revealed their hiding place. He regretted that they’d not caught up to the boy, but he’d seen evidence of
Bertie’s passage.

According to the men at Sardis, the area had seen a gentle rain that morning. So, then, the hoofprints they’d followed were fresh, at least as fresh as that day. And Lydians knew better than to venture near the caves. The Illyrians wouldn’t have approached from the direction of Sardis, so the prints most likely belonged to Bertie. He couldn’t be too far ahead of them now.

“We’ll follow the hoofmarks on foot.” Luke prayed the boy had not ridden much farther. His pale horse would be far too easy to spot on this moonlit night. If the Illyrians had Bertie, Luke didn’t know how he’d get him back. Evelyn would be heartbroken. He couldn’t bear the thought of bringing her sadness, not when he wanted only to make her happy, to make up for all the indignities she’d suffered
during her enslavement to King Garren.

Warrick appointed two of his men to lead. They’d visited the mines before and thus knew the layout of the Illyrian camps, as well as many of the men who encamped there. If they encountered a guard, they could likely get by without any trouble.

Luke pulled Evelyn to his side as he traveled in the midst of the group. He needed to keep her as safe
as he could, though in this unstable place, with any number of Illyrians hiding in the darkness, he could guarantee the safety of no one. The woman had dressed again in the woodman’s garb, and though she’d replaced the jeweled pins with fabric ties, she wore her hair up and back, away from her face, where it could be easily covered again with her hood. From a distance, to any Illyrian archer, she’d
look like the rest of his men.