Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,67

in my head: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” I might initially find contentment with Kresten, but in the long term, I would obtain more satisfaction giving of myself, my love, and even my life rather than clinging to my selfish desires.

Perhaps I wasn’t yet a strong queen. And perhaps I still had much to learn about my country and her people. Nonetheless, I couldn’t deny my birthright or the path God had bestowed upon me.

I closed my eyes and whispered a silent prayer for the strength and wisdom to somehow free myself from the danger I’d brought upon myself.

We rode until well over nightfall. By the time we stopped and my captor lowered me to the ground, I collapsed, unable to hold myself up. My bindings had chafed my wrists and ankles, causing my skin to blister and bleed. My mouth was parched, making me almost delirious for want of a drink. And my body was bruised so that I ached in every conceivable place.

I was too weary to take note of my surroundings, except that we’d come upon a camp with more soldiers and horses milling about. From the way the men greeted one another and the wary glances they cast my direction, I guessed these were more of Queen Margery’s men.

Though I was both cold and hungry, no one thought to position me by the blazing flames of a bonfire or give me a portion of the roasting game. From their callous treatment, they clearly had no incentive to treat me kindly, had likely been tasked to bring me before the queen alive and naught more.

When one of the soldiers finally untied my gag and tipped a cup of water to my lips, I drank greedily and to my fill. After I finished, he tied the gag back in place, but thankfully, it wasn’t as tight. I lowered myself into the dry leaves, exhaustion overtaking me.

Shouting awoke me. Before I could make sense of what was happening, one of the queen’s knights was yanking me to my feet. The camp was in a commotion, with men calling to one another and mounting their horses. A second later, I felt myself being lifted onto a saddle in front of a soldier. I couldn’t tell if this was the same knight as previously. All I knew was that I was weary, sore, and in more trouble than I’d ever been in before.

I should have used the break to attempt an escape, and I vowed to make a getaway at our next stop. That meant during this leg of the journey, I needed to wrestle more diligently to free my hands of the fastenings.

Once again, I found myself in a small contingent of soldiers riding hard. My captor continued to glance over his shoulder, kicking his horse and urging it ever faster. Was someone following us? Perhaps Chester? Why else would Queen Margery’s men be worried?

I prayed fervently that someone would reach me and be able to rescue me. I attempted to think of something—anything—I could do to slow our horse and allow the pursuers a chance to reach me. But the helplessness of my predicament constricted me every bit as much as my bindings.

Chapter

21

Kresten

Darkness had fallen by the time we made it to the cottage. My wound ached from the many hours in the saddle. When I dismounted, I would have buckled if not for my cane. Jorg came to my aid, but I pushed him aside, needing to punish myself.

Chester entered the cottage, and a moment later, light flared from a candle. I limped inside to find him hefting down two wooden boxes from the dormer room. He placed the traps on the floor, ascended the ladder once more, then returned a moment later with two more.

The traps were identical in size and crudely constructed, the boards weathered, and the metal rusty. If Chester’s father had built them when they’d first moved to the cottage, then the traps were close to twenty years old.

“Do they still work?” I examined them more closely, noting that a trapdoor was attached to a lever and a hook inside the cage. Although the hook dangled aimlessly now, I guessed it would lodge in the bait so that when the prey nibbled at the bait, it would wiggle the lever above, causing the door to shut, trapping the creature inside the box.

“I’ll get them working.” Chester was already kneeling beside one and lifting up a trapdoor. He had a skein