Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,66

cry went nowhere. It stuck in my throat, lodged there by a rag tied tightly across my mouth.

I became conscious of ropes binding me so securely my feet and hands were numb. I was upon a horse, sitting sideways in front of a rider, and we were galloping at a punishing speed. The pounding of multiple hooves told me there were several horses.

What had happened?

The last thing I remembered was starting to cry and rushing off into the shrubs. Had someone snuck up behind me and knocked me over the head? If so, who? Wetness on my scalp and the sticking of my hair told me the hit had been hard enough to cause bleeding.

From the angle of my position in the saddle, I couldn’t see any of the other riders. But I could see that we were back in Inglewood Forest, the heathland nowhere in sight, not even through the distant trees.

How long had I been unconscious?

From the way the sunlight slanted through the branches overhead, I guessed ’twas afternoon, which meant many hours had passed since I’d been taken captive. Not only did my head ache from where I’d been hit, but my body was sore from the endless riding.

As the horse leaped over something and landed, I jostled against my captor. He was wearing a chain-mail hauberk and gauntlet gloves. He smelled of metal and horseflesh and seemed to take no care that I was sitting awkwardly in the saddle.

I stiffened and bumped the reins to get his attention. But he kicked his mount harder and lifted the reins away from my reach. I tried to speak but couldn’t utter a single coherent sound. I wiggled my hands and feet, but the rope cut into my flesh.

An eerie disquiet swelled within me. I’d been captured, bound, and taken away. Only one person would do this. The one person I’d been hiding from my entire life. Queen Margery.

Were these knights even now taking me to her? Riding overland into Warwick would likely take several days. If they were intent on delivering me to Queen Margery’s royal residence in Kensington, the journey would be even longer.

I strained to see the riders again, but the movement made my head throb. I wanted to release a frustrated cry. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have started weeping over Kresten, shouldn’t have been feeling sorry for myself, and shouldn’t have walked off. If I’d acted responsibly and maturely like a true queen, I wouldn’t have made myself such easy prey.

Now I needed to escape from my captors and find my way back to Chester. If I didn’t, I would face certain death. Unless . . .

What if I gave Queen Margery what she wanted—Mercia and the desire to reunite the country into Bryttania? I could relinquish my throne to her and put an end to the madness.

After all, I wasn’t sure I’d really make a good and wise queen, at least not one like my mother.

Could I bargain with Queen Margery? Tell her to send me far away to live in exile? In doing so, would I be able to find a way to reunite with Kresten and convince him to come with me?

Even as I entertained the possibility of a future with him, guilt pricked me. My desire for a simple life without riches and power couldn’t be considered selfish, could it? All I wanted was to be happy. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there?

Queen Margery was the selfish one, never satisfied, always seeking more. From everything I’d learned from Aunt Idony’s lessons as well as the news Chester brought back from the outside world, Warwick’s citizens had faced increasing poverty and hardship while the queen paraded around in lavish jewels.

The simple truth was, Queen Margery cared more for her own interests and gain than for those of the people.

Her own interests.

Would I be guilty of the same if I chose to abdicate Mercia’s throne and live as a common woman? Caring for my own interest rather than the interests of others? Thinking only of what I wanted and what was best for me instead of what was in the greatest good for my people?

Whether highborn and wealthy or lowborn and poor, the plague of selfishness could afflict us all. Was it possible, no matter our status, that we had to choose how to live? For ourselves or for others?

As much as I longed to embrace happiness with Kresten, a truth Aunt Idony had taught me from Scripture resounded