brings you to Norland and this isle?”
He shot a glance toward his servant, who walked several paces ahead. “Gregor.”
After living amongst the outcasts of society for the past year, I no longer noticed the differences in their appearances. But now, I studied Gregor, taking in the burns covering half his body. The scarred man spoke little but seemed to see and hear everything. Perhaps, like many of the other outcasts, he’d gained heightened sensory awareness to make up for his deficiencies.
“You don’t strike me as the type of man willing to make so great a sacrifice for someone so insignificant to you.”
“And who says Gregor is insignificant?”
“You need not say it. ’Tis clear enough without words.”
Mikkel’s brows furrowed into thunderheads, and his heavy steps drew to a halt, jerking both Gregor and Fowler to a stop as well. Several of the men in the lead grumbled and cajoled Fowler, who proceeded to mock them in return, earning a slap in the face.
At the sight of Fowler’s trouble, Mikkel started up again, but this time he slowed his steps. I hoped he was rethinking his answer and would elaborate more, but instead he changed the subject. “Your turn, my lady. What brings you to Norland and this isle?”
“Is it not obvious?” I resituated my veil.
“Did your family scorn you for—for your blemishes?” He slanted a look toward the veil, then focused on the steeply rising trail ahead, but not before I saw pity in his eyes.
Most of the outcasts believed I concealed deformities of one kind or another behind my veil. And so far, none of their assumptions had bothered me. But with Mikkel’s curiosity—and pity—I couldn’t keep my embarrassment at bay. I didn’t want him thinking I was hideous.
As before, I had the urge to lift the silk and show him the truth, that I had skin as perfect and smooth as the pearl after which I was named. My flawless features, womanly figure, and long ebony hair had drawn the admiration of many. Brave knights had written poems about me. Wealthy lords had pledged me their fealty. Foreign diplomats had offered marriage proposals on behalf of their princes and kings.
“I am truly sorry.” He apparently took my silence as affirmation. “Families ought to be a place of unconditional acceptance for who we are and encourage us in the potential for what we can yet become.”
“Spoken wisely, my lord.” I couldn’t keep from studying this man. From all appearances, he wasn’t much older than my nineteen years. Probably twenty-two or twenty-three years of age. “If you have found such acceptance and encouragement from your family, then you are indeed blessed.”
He plodded uphill, growing silent once more, his expression unreadable.
I would likely get no more information from him than he would from me. Alas, Irontooth would find ways to extract what he wanted to know. And once he had, he’d assign Mikkel as a slave to one of the men. I’d speak little to the nobleman in the days to come. Soon the two feuding leaders would arrange an exchange of prisoners. Mikkel, Gregor, and Fowler would return to the southern part of the island, and I’d never cross paths with them again, especially once I left.
With the arrival of Midsummer’s Eve last week, summer was passing too quickly. While the others in camp had danced and feasted to celebrate, I’d hiked to the top of one of my favorite arches and spent the eve in somber quietude. The solstice in my country had always been one of terror—the eve when the fairest maiden in the land was sacrificed to Grendel.
Like most maidens in Warwick, I’d lived with the worry that one day I might be considered the fairest maiden and given to Grendel to appease his rage. I’d feared my mother would do nothing to prevent it, might even be glad for it.
I’d never understood why my mother resented me. Of course, servants had whispered that she disliked me because I rivaled her beauty. Others said she was jealous because the king spent more time with his children than with his wife.
Father had indeed spent much time with us. I had many fond memories of my childhood with him. He’d loved to hunt, and when I’d grown old enough, he’d taken me with him on nearly every hunting expedition.
It wasn’t until I was older I’d understood that in marrying Queen Margery, he’d gained the title of king but had few responsibilities and almost no authority. Fortunately, he’d had a pleasant