Whatever It Takes 2: Scoundrels and Heroes (Excerpt)

Clara Redwood was standing in front of a mirror, brushing her long, fiery red mane, trying to stop her hands from shaking and tears from filling her eyes, both unsuccessfully. In the past few weeks, her life has been nothing but a series of disasters and another one was looming behind the corner. There were two sets of clothes laid out in front of her. A beautiful ornate gown, suitable for the royal palace halls, and leather breeches, a simple white shirt, and a worn-out jacket, something that a squire would wear. She hasn’t chosen which ones to put on yet, the decision that was going to shape her life from this day forward. Up until a few weeks ago, she had a good life. She wasn’t entirely happy, but at least content. But then her father died in some stupid skirmish with pirates along the eastern coast. The man she loved the most in her life, the only person in the entire world who understood her, respected her even, the one thing she considered solid and certain, gone. “He was a soldier and soldiers die. Deal with it.” Her mother was never a heartfelt person but those words sounded too cold even for her. But Clara’s father wasn’t just a soldier. He was an important lord and an admiral, a loyal supporter and a good friend of king Hayden. Which, under normal circumstances, was a good thing for her family. However, since her father was gone, suddenly she was the king’s responsibility. Apparently, it was unthinkable for a woman to live on her own, without a man to take care of her. Clara still had two older brothers but one was a soldier as well, away on an assignment in the northern mountains, and the other one was a diplomat, traveling the world as a representative of the kingdom of Orellia. All that meant that she had not only lost her beloved father but a few days later she lost her home as well, being forced to move to the royal palace in Ebris. Her mother went with her, being more than excited about the king becoming Clara’s guardian. Sophia Redwood was a very ambitious woman and her remark that it was entirely possible that instead of finding a suitable husband for Clara, the king might want to marry her himself, made the young girl lose her sleep for days. Marrying the Burning Fury? Even the thought of spending time with the glum, snappy, and perpetually angry king frightened Clara. Being his wife? Fulfilling her duties in his bed? Clara swore to herself she would end her life before that would happen. Of course, she couldn’t tell that to her mother who adamantly pursued that idea, bugging the king to have dinner with Clara, to take a walk with her through the gardens. Naturally, it didn’t improve the king's mood so when they finally did dine together, it was in awkward silence. He was furious to be there and Clara was so scared of him that she had to fight the tears the entire time, quite certain that if she did let them fall, he would start yelling at her. At least one of her prayers was answered. The king wasn’t interested in her at all and soon he was so fed up with her mother he firmly but politely ordered her to stop with her actions. Sophia was disappointed, naturally, which mother wouldn’t want their daughter to be a queen? But it didn’t stop her from trying to find other suitors for Clara, all very important, rich, and powerful. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Why could a man live just fine on his own but a woman needed someone to decide for her? Clara was only seventeen, she should have her whole life in front of her. Not to be married off to some wealthy i***t and forced to birth him one child after another while keeping her mouth shut. The king went away to wage war against a neighborhooding kingdom and everyone in the palace could breathe more freely for a couple of weeks, without being in constant danger of doing something that would set him off. Clara avoided people as much as possible, her mother especially, spending most of her time in gardens. On a few rare occasions, she managed to sneak out of the palace out to the training grounds, calming her mind by firing countless arrows into distant targets, a secret hobby that made her mother absolutely furious. She would love to take a horse for rides through the countryside but her mother insisted she used a sidesaddle and Clara hated that stupid thing so much she preferred to give up riding altogether. And, just as she got used to her new life, another disaster struck. Clara didn’t care for politics too much, but she knew Orellia was the most powerful country on the continent, so it came as no surprise when the news of king Hayden winning a large battle against their neighbor, the kingdom of Levanta, reached the palace. But that was not the only news the messengers brought. No more than a few days after the battle, Clara received a letter from the king himself. It was more of a short note than an actual letter. The parchment carried a life sentence. Her mother was excited, naturally, king Hayden clearly stated that lord Huxley was an important figure at the Levantian court, his family was rich and powerful. That’s all Clara knew about the man she was supposed to marry in a couple of weeks. No amount of crying, begging, or arguing could stop her mother from swiftly replying to king Hayden that Clara would be honored to marry lord Huxley at the earliest possible date. Ever since that day, Clara barely ate or slept, spending her days hiding in dark corners where her mother wouldn’t find her, crying her eyes out. Every night she went to bed wishing she wouldn’t wake up the next morning. It seemed so unfair. Wasn’t it the Levantians who lost the war? Clara was fairly certain of that. Then why was she being thrown to the enemy like a peace offering? The Orellians killed her future husband’s king, took over his country. How could he not hate her for that? Was he going to take his anger out on her when they are married and there will be no escape for her? Make her life hell in revenge? It was all her mother’s fault. If she didn’t annoy king Hayden by trying to get him to marry Clara, then perhaps he would have forgotten about her. But no, Sophia had to go and make him angry, so when he needed a young girl to offer as a sacrifice to placate the Levantians, he immediately thought of Clara. And now he was on his way back to Ebris with his new queen, bringing Clara’s future husband along. The wedding was planned for the very next day after their arrival, Clara most likely won’t even have a chance to see this mysterious lord Huxley until she walks down the aisle, let alone talk to him. Last evening her mother’s patience finally ran out and she started yelling at Clara for not eating and looking like a skeleton, which caused her to be too thin for her wedding dress. “You will stop with this nonsense! You are not a child anymore, Clara, you are an adult woman and have your duties.” Clara knew better than to waste energy on arguing with her mother, preferring to just turn away from her, looking out of the window. At least that way Sophia couldn’t see the tears that filled Clara’s eyes. “You should feel honored.” Honored? The stupid word reignited resistance hidden so deep within Clara’s mind she didn’t even think it existed anymore. She turned back at her mother. “Honored?! For being given to our enemy like a worthless breeding mare? For being forced to marry a man I’ve never even seen? No, mother,” she spat out, her voice strong and full of defiance, “I will not do that. I’m not a slave and neither you nor king Hayden can make such decisions about my life! I’d sooner put an arrow through that man before marrying him.” Clara saw mother’s hand lift and move swiftly but she didn’t realize what it meant until she heard the smacking sound and felt a sharp, stinging pain on her cheek. She blinked in surprise, her own hand flying up to touch her suddenly sore and swollen skin, a couple of tears rolling down her face. Her mother had never struck her before. “That’s enough, you stupid girl.” Sophia wasn’t yelling anymore, her voice was quiet and so cold it sent chills down Clara’s spine. “The part of your life where you get away with talking back to people is over. You will do as you are told. You will obey king Hayden’s orders. You will marry lord Huxley. You will be a proper and obedient wife and you will please your husband in any way he sees fit.” Unable to respond, Clara watched her mother walk over to a large wardrobe and open it. Horror crept up on the young girl when Sophia pulled out a long piece of wood, carefully hidden between the gowns. “And this?” she hissed with so much spite and contempt it made Clara flinch. “No, please,” she tried to whisper but no sound came out of her mouth. Her mother’s lips curled into an evil smirk as she raised Clara’s bow. “I told you to stop with this nonsense countless times. Do you have any idea what dishonor and shame you could have brought upon our family if anyone found out?! I will not let you embarrass your husband in that way. From this day forth you will act like a proper lady. This ends now.” Clara saw her mother grab the bow with both hands, lowering it against her knee. The girl screamed out in horror and lunged forward but wasn’t fast enough, the sharp cracking sound as the wood splintered and broke into two pieces made her stop in the middle of the room. With tears rolling down her face she watched her mother toss the broken weapon on the ground, giving Clara one last angry glare before striding out of her room. That was the last drop. The bow itself was just a standard weapon, the same as any archer in the army was issued with. But Sophia knew what that thing meant for Clara, that it was a gift from her father, the thing she held dearest in her life. After spending the night sobbing inconsolably, Clara wiped her tears off and pulled two outfits out of her closet, standing in front of a choice. Would she put on a gown, stay in the palace, abide by her mother’s and the king’s wishes? Or would she put on simple men’s clothes and sneak out, stealing a horse and running off? Becoming a fugitive? How long could a lone girl survive out on the road before someone robs her, r***s her, murders her? Clara scoffed. At least she would die free. The choice had been made a long time ago. Her hand reached for the shirt and breeches.