FALL OF THE STARS (In Love and War #2)

One-1

Princess Emeline“What’s the matter, sweet sister? Your tongue no longer sharp?” mocks my brother, Aethelred, as we ride on horseback.

I ignore him because, truth be told, I cannot believe I am here—hands bound, held prisoner by my family because my lover’s wife betrayed us.

I knew something was amiss, but I didn’t listen to my intuition. I didn’t want to believe Cecily would deceive us, but she did. She relayed our plans to the awaiting Wessex Guard, who were following us the entire time.

She did not seek out Skarth with good intentions. Her plan was to hand me over to my father as this would stop Skarth from continually running to my aid. She’d had enough.

He chose to leave her behind in Northumbria and come to Wessex to save me. She tired of being “the other woman.”

This is my punishment for all that I’ve done, and the reason I don’t fight. I don’t speak. I allow my brother to belittle me because I deserve this.

There is a consequence for every action, and this is mine.

Cecily rides ahead, and from the way my father greeted her, it’s safe to assume she’s in his good graces. I wonder if she approached him or he her? Either way, they both wanted the same thing—me captured.

I don’t know what my future holds. Now that I am in the clutches of my father, I wonder if he will trade me—again? My father works with King Egbert, so that would put him back in favor with Wessex.

I have many questions, but I’m not prepared for the answers just yet.

When we emerged from the tunnel, I thought I was finally free. The Northmen went to join battle while Cecily and the men assigned to protect us headed for the ship. But when we were surrounded, I knew Cecily had betrayed us.

The way she looked at me with nothing but pure hatred in her eyes, I instantly knew she was aware of what Skarth and I did. And when she stormed forward, ripping his arm ring from me, it confirmed she was prepared to do anything to keep us apart.

I felt shame.

Guilt.

Betrayal.

But most of all, I was worried because what did this mean for Skarth?

I don’t know where he is. I don’t know if the battle was won. What I do know is that my father and brother intend to use me once again for their gain.

We are riding away from Winchester, which means my father will hide me away from Wessex. It’s safe to assume Skarth and Ulf will ride there first. I don’t bother asking where we’re going because I don’t expect an answer.

The weather is rather dismal, and I can’t shake the constant chill from my bones. But I’d rather freeze to death than ask for something warm to wear.

I’m pressed to my brother’s back, but the heat from his body is not comforting. It’s suffocating.

Memories of our childhood flood me, of when he threatened to defile me in ways no brother should, and I shiver in disgust. I need to be strong, however. I cannot show weakness because the first chance I get, I’m escaping.

Peering ahead, I’m pained to see Raedwulf and Lord Robert riding with my father.

There are no ill feelings as I know this was the only way they could spare their lives after what they did. If they didn’t do what my father asked of them, then they wouldn’t live to see another dawn. We are all prisoners in one way or another.

“I think I preferred it when you were insolent,” my brother says to me over his shoulder. “Now, you are rather boring. I do not know why King Egbert has gone to so much trouble to retrieve you. Perchance it’s not your sharpness which interests him, however.”

His tone drips with innuendo, but I don’t bite.

We continue riding, keeping to the shadows and on high alert. This gives me hope that Skarth and Ulf are still alive. I would like to think Cecily made a deal with my father to spare Skarth, but maybe she is a woman scorned and is intent on harming us both?

I don’t know anything anymore.

Rain begins to fall, making it difficult to travel in such grueling conditions, which means we will find shelter like this soon. Aethelred clucks his tongue, signaling for his horse to pick up the pace so he can ride ahead.

My father’s army peers at me with nothing but disgust, for I am a w***e to Wessex and the heathens. But they dare not speak a word.

“Father,” Aethelred says as we reach his side. “I can ride ahead with Emeline if you wish to seek out shelter.”

It seems time has not changed my brother—he is still an arse licker.

“Come morrow, we will be required to go our separate ways,” my father says, looking at me closely. “But now, let us all retire. Emeline, you need rest. King Egbert is expecting our arrival in three days’ time.”

He omits where exactly that will be.

I don’t reply because I have nothing to say. But I make clear Cecily and I will have words when I narrow my eyes her way.

She straightens her spine.

If she believes she’s under the protection of my father because she made a deal with him, she is sorely mistaken.

Aethelred rides ahead, taking charge to impress my father with his leadership. When we reach a dense but even part of the forest with fresh water close by, Aethelred indicates we are to rest here for the evening.

Peering around subtly, I attempt to seek an escape route.

The woods are thick, and the moon has gone into hiding, so fleeing in the dead of night won’t be easy, but I will try.

Aethelred directs his horse to the stream. He dismounts and drags me off, keeping a firm grip on my arm because he knows given half the chance, I will abscond.

I don’t fight. I do as Skarth taught me and study my surroundings. I’m on my own because no one here is my friend—not even Raedwulf and Lord Robert.

With hands bound in front of me, I have no other choice but to allow Aethelred to haul me around, and he takes great pleasure in doing so. He walks us over to a towering tree, where he grips the back of my neck and forces me to my knees.

“Stay,” he orders how he would a dog.

I peer up at him, pure hatred overtaking every part of my body.

He doesn’t appreciate my insolence and leans down, pinching my chin between his fingers. “Continue looking at me like that, and I will take your eyes, as I am sure King Egbert is far more interested in other parts of you.”

I hate that I am seen as nothing more than a possession; barely a human being in the eyes of men.

“Leave her be.” Raedwulf stands before us, hands on hips as he attempts to control his temper.

But he isn’t in control.

If he steps out of line, my father will have him hung. I know it. He knows it. As does my brother, who merely snickers in humor.

“And what do you intend to do if I do not?” It’s a challenge, one which Raedwulf will lose. And that’s revealed when he clenches his jaw but doesn’t take the bait.

He peers down at me with regret, but I understand—we are both prisoners to the king.

He walks away, head downcast as I know he feels he failed me. He asked for my hand in marriage, promising to protect me, but only one man can do that. And I fear for that man’s well-being.

Aethelred doesn’t trust me and gestures to one of the men that he’s to stand guard.

Every action is filled with arrogance because he’s finally in total control of me, and I hate it. I need to escape, but I’m not sure how. I will die trying, though.

Cecily has kept her distance, but I make clear her time is coming as we lock eyes from across the field. Every action has repercussions, and I am certain Skarth will be hers. I don’t know what he will do, but I can’t imagine he will allow her trickery to go unpunished.

However, when she cups her swollen belly, I realize this is the one thing that protects her from Skarth’s full wrath.

Did she trick me into thinking she was losing her child? That this would somehow form a bond between us? If that is the truth, then it worked. One can ingest many herbs to bring on the symptoms Cecily had without harming the child.

I feel sickened that she would do that to her unborn baby for revenge.

“Stand for your king,” the guard says, alerting me that my father arrives.

But I will do no such thing.

“He is no longer my king,” I state bluntly. “King Egbert is.”

The guard advances forward, hand raised, primed on smacking my cheek for speaking such treason. But my father stops him.

“Enough,” he says. “She will not be harmed.”

I’m surprised he cares, but he reveals the real reason soon enough.

“King Egbert will not be pleased if his property is damaged.”

I narrow my eyes as his choice of words was done with intent.

“Daughter, you have been nothing but trouble. I blame your mother,” he says, bending low to address me. “She spoiled you. But no more. You will do your duty to Northumbria, and you will do so without further rebellion.”

“How can you do this?” I spit, refusing to surrender. “I am your daughter, yet you treat me as nothing but something you can trade.”

“It’s because you are my daughter, Emeline, that I do this,” he retorts firmly. “You are fortunate King Egbert has shown you mercy. If this were anyone else, their head would be had.”

“Fortunate? I would much prefer that than to return to Wessex,” I mumble under my breath. “I am the king’s w***e, Father. Do not mistake my position as anything but that.”

My father turns his cheek as this fact brings shame to us both. “King Egbert risked the lives of many for your safe return. Therefore, your position is far greater than you think.”

I hate that he’s right.

“Why must you be so insubordinate? Most would be envious to be in the position you are in.”

“Then let them have it as I do not, nor have I ever wanted it. I was forced into marriage to save Northumbria, but she is not saved. All you did was give more power to Wessex. You were fooled, Father.”

A silence settles, and I know this is the calm before the storm.

“Bring me the branks,” my father orders, his cold stare indicating that my defiance will not go unpunished.

I don’t waver. I dare him to gag me because no torture device will stop my disobedience.

A guard brings my father the iron helmet, which is essentially a muzzle. I glare up at him, daring him to put it on me; daring him to restrain his daughter.

He takes it from the man’s hands and appears to have second thoughts. But when I snicker, shaking my head at his impotence, he wraps it around my face. I don’t fight him as he places the bridle bit into my mouth.

It presses upon my tongue to stop me from speaking. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because of the spike attached to the bit. One word and it would pierce my tongue.

“You have no one to blame but yourself,” he says once the device is in place.

The helmet doesn’t impair my vision, so my father can see my contempt.

He can’t stand to look at me, it seems, and quickly turns his back, leaving me bound and gagged and plotting his demise.

I wake to the strong smell of ale.

Opening my heavy eyes, I attempt to adjust to the darkness, but when I see my brother swaying above me, I wish I could slip back into a slumber.

He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before. I attempt to recoil backward, but I can’t as I am tied to a tree. My father knew I would run otherwise.

“Your cunt must be some delight for it has brought many men to their knees.”

My arms are bound behind me, wrapped around a tree trunk. But I remain calm.

“Men and heathens,” he spits disgusted. “You are nothing but a w***e. Father should have killed that pagan years ago.”

He’s merely talking to himself because, thanks to the helmet which I still wear, I cannot speak. But Aethelred isn’t interested in me speaking. His hatred for me has grown, and for the first time in my life, I fear him.