Beguiled (The Fairest Maidens #2) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,49

long as possible.

Had I only imagined the desire I’d seen in Mikkel’s eyes our last night on the Isle of Outcasts? I’d almost believed for a few seconds that he didn’t care anymore what I looked like, and that he might even reach up and remove my veil.

“I care about you.” I hadn’t imagined his words, and they stayed close to my heart. I cared about him too, and as we traveled long hours, I cherished him all the more for our easy conversations as well as deep discussions. Though we shared many things in common and our friendship deepened, I couldn’t squelch my growing disappointment that he showed no interest in seeing behind my veil.

Whenever I thought about the kisses we’d exchanged that night in Fife, I wanted to pull down my veil and show him he had nothing to be afraid of. But the longer he delayed initiating the removal, the more I resolved to wait to reveal myself to him until he asked it of me, until he was ready to accept me completely for who I was as a person and not for how I looked.

Another week elapsed before we reached the foothills and the more populated area of Warwick. Each passing day brought an increasing sense of unease. Though we didn’t meet many people, those we came across were frightened, withdrawn, and even hostile. Towns were quiet, and the fields to the southeast lay deserted of the many peasant laborers who worked them in the summer.

By the time we were a two days’ ride from Kensington, my apprehension had only grown.

“I do not understand,” I said, as I rode next to Mikkel. The village we’d just skirted had been abandoned. The thatched huts were dark, doors open, shutters broken or hanging by one hinge, and garden beds overgrown with weeds. “’Tis as if a plague has struck the people.”

“No one has made mention of disease.” Mikkel’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the darkness of the surrounding countryside. Always alert, Mikkel used the scant light from the stars and moon to guide us. From behind, Gregor, too, was ever aware of our surroundings.

The scent of a campfire hovered in the air, signaling the presence of others in the area, and yet the wooded trail kept us hidden. Old fir and hemlock mixed with seedlings of the new growth among the large boulders and crags, shielding us as we rested by day and providing security for our travels by night.

“A year ago, the land was well populated.” Something had happened during the time I’d been gone from Warwick. And whatever it was didn’t bode well.

At a nearby woman’s scream, I reined in my mount. Mikkel’s horse shied next to me, and Gregor already had his sword drawn. We waited unmoving, all of us, attempting to decipher the meaning of the scream.

Raucous laughter drifted into the air followed by more screaming.

“Someone is in trouble.” I shifted my mount toward the sound.

Mikkel held out a gloved hand. “I shall ride ahead and scout the situation.”

“Should we not stay together?” I whispered with a glance around at the dark shadows of the woodland. “Surely we are safer that way?”

Mikkel hesitated and exchanged a glance with Gregor. “Very well, but you and Gregor must remain out of sight.”

I nudged my horse forward, already veering in the direction of the laughter. Mikkel pushed ahead of me, taking the lead, and Gregor formed the rear, silent but seeming to see everything.

The light of flames guided us to a camp. As we reached the outskirts, we could see a group of men with long, unkempt hair and scraggly beards terrorizing what appeared to be a family. One of them had pinned a woman’s arms behind her back and had a knife against her throat. Two others were holding a man between them and another was beating him. Several young children ducked behind a cart and watched, their eyes rounded with fear.

Without waiting for Mikkel or Gregor, I charged forward, my bow fitted with an arrow. I let it fly toward the man threatening the woman, then readied another and aimed it at the other perpetrator. He howled as the arrow pierced into his shoulder.

Mikkel broke into the camp ahead of me, wielding his spear in one hand and knife in the other. Within seconds, the men fell to the ground, unconscious or too debilitated to fight back.

He jumped off his horse and dropped onto the largest of the men, spear thrust against his chest.