Foremost (The Lost Princesses Book 2) Page 10

  When she got to her knees and gently pushed me back to the floor, I was unable to resist. I could only watch the way her hair surrounded her face and cascaded over her shoulders.

  “I need to clean and add fresh ointment to your injuries.” She bent in to examine my shoulder. As she did so, her hair brushed against my chest and fanned my face. It was finer than the most exotic silk.

  When she started to back away and reach for her medical satchel, I snagged her arm. Before I could stop myself or question what I was doing, I tugged her so that she practically sprawled out on my chest, her face only inches from mine. Her palm lay flat against my abdomen, and the heat of the contact seared me.

  At our proximity, her eyes widened with surprise, and as they did so, her gaze locked with mine. Questions flitted through the beautiful blue.

  “Your hair is so pretty like this.” The words escaped, the only explanation I could find for her confusion. My hand seemed to have a will of its own as my fingers found her hair and dove into the depths.

  She held herself motionless, not even breathing. She studied my face as if searching for clues to a puzzle. Then, her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze. I could guess what she’d seen: the desire for her I’d been trying to hide. But at the moment, I didn’t care if it was out in the open. I only cared about the thick silk tangling in my fingers. It was luxurious, decadent, and I wanted to lose myself there.

  Her eyes dropped to my lips, which sent sparks of lightning through my midsection. Why was she looking at my mouth? She certainly wasn’t thinking about kissing me, was she?

  “Edmund?” Her whisper was strangled, and I could sense her mounting confusion and anxiety. Was my blatant affection scaring her? If I pushed her too quickly, I’d likely drive her away. And I didn’t want to chance losing her. Her friendship was more important than anything else.

  Using all the willpower I possessed, I loosened my grip in her hair. I made myself relax and smile. “Remember the time when we were younger and you decided to cut the end off one of your braids?”

  Her eyes searched mine for a moment, and then, as if concluding we were back on solid, familiar friendship ground, she allowed her body to relax against me. “If I remember right,” she countered with a smile of her own, “I wanted to see how long it would take to grow and catch back up to the other braid.”

  “You were quite the inquisitive child.”

  She laughed lightly and the sound of it rolled over me like music. “That is one way of politely saying I was a dunce.”

  “You weren’t a dunce. Just too curious for your own good.”

  “Sister Agnes was a saint for raising me.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  Maribel nudged me with an elbow. “I was not always naughty, was I?”

  “I choose to refrain from answering—”

  At her laughter, I grinned. Inwardly, I released a heave of relief. I’d diverted her attention away from my attraction, and I’d kept things from becoming strained between us.

  Sheba’s call, though distant, broke into my conscience. She was sounding a warning that she’d sighted men. I sat up, all mirth falling away.

  “What is it?” Maribel didn’t try to stop me this time.

  “Ethelwulf’s men will soon be upon us.”

  Maribel scrambled toward her bag and the various items strewn over the cave floor and hurried to pack them.

  I called to Sheba, giving her my instructions to carry Maribel to Norland. By the time I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet and began to don my garments, she’d arrived at the cave entrance.

  I paused with my breeches halfway up, the pain from the movement causing me to break into a sweat. “Maribel, go with Sheba.”

  “No, I am not leaving you this time.” She slung her medicine satchel over her shoulder and across her body.

  “You are going. And you’re leaving now.” I spoke in my hardest voice, the one that told Maribel I’d reached my limits of patience with her.

  She hesitated.

  “Sheba will take you to Norland where you’ll be safe.”

  Noticing I was struggling with my breeches, Maribel crossed to me. She helped me cinch the waist before assisting me with my shirt and cloak. Each movement of my shoulder brought a stab of fresh pain so severe I wavered with dizziness.

  As I strapped on my belt with my weapons, Maribel’s fingers circled mine and stopped me, drawing my gaze up to hers. Her expression was more earnest than I’d ever seen. “I know you only want me to be safe, Edmund. But I have already made up my mind that I shall not leave you to fend for yourself.”

  “You must go,” I said. “You are far more important to Mercia than I am or ever could be.”

  “But you are important to me,” she said softly, glancing down at my belt and straightening it. “I had not planned to go to Norland without you before, and I shall not go now.”

  What did she mean I was important to her?

  When she lifted her eyes almost shyly, I saw something in their depths that hadn’t been there before, something that sent warmth whispering through me.

  Whatever the case might be, I couldn’t let her stay with me. I’d most certainly be captured. And then I’d lose her forever.

  “Listen to me, Maribel.” I attempted to gentle my voice, to keep at bay my rising panic. “You ride ahead with Sheba. And I shall follow behind.”

  She shook her head. “If I stay with you, at least I can continue to treat your wounds and make your travel easier.”

  I groaned my frustration.

  “Let us be on our way.” She reached for my leather pack, replaced my tin cup, and added the game Sheba had hunted for us. Then she handed me the bag.

  I didn’t move to take it.

  She stretched it out farther. This time her beautiful features implored me in that irresistible way she had, the one that molded me into doing whatever she wished.

  “If you force me to go with Sheba,” she said. “I shall only turn around the first moment she sets me down and run back to you.”

  I wanted to strangle Maribel and hug her at the same time. She was stubborn when she made up her mind to do something. “Very well, if you insist.”

  “I insist.” She smiled, her eyes lighting as they usually did when I yielded to her. Most of the time, her delight gave me a moment of happiness. But not today. Not at this decision. Instead, doubt crept in to whisper I’d made a terrible mistake, that I was leading us both into captivity.

  If we didn’t die first.

  Nevertheless, I shook off the doubts, took my bag, and attempted to lift the strap over my head. “If you will not leave me, then there is only one thing to be done.”

  “And what is that?” She gently raised my pack the rest of the way and settled the bag on my hip.

  “We must go down into the labyrinth and hide there.”

  Chapter

  11

  Maribel

  “I found no conclusive evidence of a labyrinth,” I told Edmund as we explored the depths of the cavern. “I searched this cave as well as every rock and crevice in the surrounding vicinity. But I could find nothing.”

  Edmund ducked as the ceiling slanted lower. From his stilted movements, I could tell he was in terrible pain but was doing his best to mask it.

  “The entrance is here somewhere,” he said in a strained voice, skimming his fingers along the walls, assessing every detail.

  “There are no hollow spots like we found at St. Cuthbert’s.” After lighting a torch, I doused the cooking fire with snow, putting out the flames and the warmth.

  “Did you test the floor?”

  “No. I did not think to do so.”

  He knelt and ran his hand over the roughened rock.

  I stomped the wet wood and ashes, wishing we could hide the evidence we’d been there. But I suspected all my efforts would do no good. King Ethelwulf’s guard likely had the use of specially trained dogs or wolves that would follow our scent from the previous night when I’d drag
ged Edmund to the cave. I hadn’t taken the time to cover our tracks or sprinkle the Mountain Essence.

  After several minutes of searching, Edmund paused, sat back on his heels, and peered around the cave with narrowed eyes.

  “If I was the architect in charge of creating the maze,” he mumbled to himself, “where would I put the entrance?”

  “Apparently someplace impossible to find.”

  “No,” he said, rising slowly and shuffling toward the now cold and wet remains of the fire. “I’d put the entrance in a place that would give my workers easy access for bringing up the tons of stones needing to be chiseled away.”

  He crouched beside the blackened wood and ashes and used a rock to sweep the residue away. Nothing unusual or different marked the spot except for the soot of many fires from long ago. Edmund brushed more remains away and then began to scrape. For a moment, I thought he was merely rubbing rock against rock. But as he dug deeper, I could see a groove forming in the floor.

  With a burst of excitement, I knelt next to him, found a sharp stone, and began to scrape in what was clearly a crack that had been filled with mortar. The seal blended in with the stone, and over time had become nearly invisible.

  “This is the entrance,” I said as the groove deepened. “Is it not?”

  “It must be,” he replied. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a false opening that leads to deadly traps.”

  I paused, my anticipation dimming at the prospect of the dangerous unknown. “Do you think this is one such trap?”

  “We shall know soon enough.”

  His answer didn’t soothe me. But I resumed my digging anyway.

  His gaze flickered to me, giving me a glimpse of the seriousness in his eyes, along with something else. The same something I’d noticed there earlier when we’d awoken from our slumber.

  I’d fallen asleep beside him to keep him warm and so that if he stirred, the motion would rouse me. What I hadn’t expected was for him to awaken and bury his fingers in my hair.

  When he’d told me my hair was pretty and looked at me as though I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon, my body had warmed all the way through as it did when I drank hot spiced mead on a frigid winter day. I’d felt delicious and womanly in a way I’d never experienced before.

  Now again, as he met my gaze, I could feel that same interest. Did he really think I was beautiful? I suppose his appreciation was no different than my acknowledging he’d grown into a fine-looking young man. With his well-defined features and lush green eyes, he could be considered handsome by those who emphasized such earthly attributes. Of course, as a postulant, I wasn’t one to focus on that kind of thing.

  But what about Colette? Had she thought Edmund was handsome? She’d certainly seemed enamored with him. Her whispered words returned to me: I shall love you like Maribel never can. I promise to make you happy.

  Was she right? Could I never love Edmund and make him happy the way she could?

  “I wouldn’t fault you if you changed your mind and left with Sheba.” He wiped his perspiring brow with the back of his arm.

  “You will not be rid of me that easily.”

  He didn’t respond, except to continue to pry away the seal. I knew he regretted his decision to allow me to stay with him. And doubts assailed me whether I’d been right to insist on remaining rather than escaping to Norland. What if King Ethelwulf’s guard captured me? They’d take the ancient key and the piece of the map, making it impossible for Queen Adelaide Constance to find the hidden treasure.

  I dug harder. We had to get into the labyrinth. We’d hide there for a few days. And then once the king’s guards gave up the search and left, we’d make our way to Norland. It would be simple, I told myself.

  When we removed all the mortar, we used our weapons to pry the opening upward. It was heavy, and with Edmund’s injured shoulder, his strength was reduced by at least half. I tried to make up for it, but I was no replacement.

  Even when Edmund formed a makeshift lever to pry the stone plate loose, it still took long minutes before it moved enough to wedge the lever farther under it. Finally, after more heaving, the stone scraped across the cave floor, revealing a dark sloping tunnel with the rusted remains of cart rails, likely once used in hauling rock pieces to the surface.

  Edmund stuck his head inside and sniffed. “There must be another entrance from the outside somewhere else.”

  I tested the scent, smelling nothing but mildew, soil, and perhaps the rancid odor of a dead rat. “How can you tell?”

  “The air is still breathable, and I don’t detect dangerous fumes.”

  We made preparations to descend, filling our water pouches and gathering roots and twigs, which we tied into a pack with Edmund’s cloak. With the fresh provisions, along with Sheba’s generous supply of meat, I was optimistic we’d survive the labyrinth just fine. If only we had a way to camouflage the opening so that the king’s guard wouldn’t discover it. But after struggling to close the stone to no avail, we knew we had no choice but to proceed even if the enemy decided to follow us.

  As we descended, the rocky gravel made each foothold precarious, and I slid countless times. Torch in hand, Edmund led the way, going slowly and bracing me as best he could. When the passageway finally leveled, I was surprised to find that it branched into three identical tunnels. They were wide enough to allow a cart but too low for standing upright. Made of smooth gray walls, they were plain, with no markings to identify or set them apart.

  I studied the entrance for each and shuddered at the prospect of winding through the tight confines. Even so, I squared my shoulders. “Which one?”

  “Let’s look at the map and pray it can help us.”

  I pulled out the parchment, unrolled it, and together we studied the maze. I searched for a place where three tunnels converged, but found nothing.

  “Do you see anything?” I shifted to watch him. His noble features were taut with concentration, his eyes narrowed, his hair loose across his forehead. The sheen of perspiration on his upper lip and the flush in his cheeks told me how much pain he suffered. I should have insisted on repacking his wounds with fresh poultice and ointment before beginning our trek into the maze. But I’d been fortunate he’d allowed me to come at all, much less slow down our escape.

  He circled his finger around and touched the western side of the map. “I think we are here.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “From the rock deposits I passed on my way here, I believe we’re at a western entrance of the labyrinth. Even if this piece of the map is for the eastern half, we should still be able to navigate as long as we remember to follow the mirror image of the trail.”

  I studied the area near his finger. “But here there is only one tunnel leading into the maze. Not three.”

  “Many labyrinths have multiple false paths at the opening. My feeling is that of the three, one is safe and the other two lead to traps that will likely kill us or anyone who takes them.”

  I walked forward to examine the entrances more carefully. “Perhaps the middle one?”

  “Are you guessing, or do you have logic for your choice?” Despite the seriousness of the situation, his tone filled with mirth because he already knew the answer.

  “Everybody knows the middle road is always the best to travel.” I tossed a smirk over my shoulder, relieved again that even though we were having strange and intense new feelings between us, we could easily banter as we always had.

  He paced from one entrance to the next. I guessed he was making use of all his senses to discover every detail he could—sights, smells, sounds, air movement, and more. After a moment, he stood in the far left entrance. “This one has the most airflow. The other two eventually lead to dead ends.”

  I started into the left tunnel, but he jerked me back. “Wait, Maribel. I want to test them first.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll walk into them and see if I come out alive.”

&nb
sp; I turned horrified eyes to him only to see him grinning. I swatted him, glad we could find humor even in the midst of the worst of circumstances.

  Handing me the torch, he retrieved three medium rocks from the slope, kneeled, and pitched one down the far right tunnel. The steady clank of its movement down the slight hill picked up momentum and then stopped. Several seconds later a plop was followed by sizzling.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I suspect the path abruptly ends, that the rock fell off and landed into a pool of some kind of acid that has the power to eat anything it touches.”

  “A deadly brew awaiting unsuspecting travelers?”

  “Exactly.” Edmund tossed the second rock down the middle path. It rolled a few seconds longer, but then a whistling noise was followed by a sharp thwack.

  “A rotating blade,” Edmund explained. “It likely would have sliced the stone in half had it been softer.”

  I shuddered at the image of a human meeting such a fate.

  He threw the third stone down the left path, and this time it went unhindered until it hit a turn in the tunnel. Edmund examined the map. “Yes, I do believe we’re on the western end.”

  “‘Are you guessing, or do you have logic for your choice?’” I mimicked his earlier words.

  “I’m guessing, of course,” he said with all seriousness even though his eyes twinkled. “This area has a corner and a turn about the distance the rock traveled.”

  I was tempted to jest with him again, but he slanted a glance toward the opening far above, his expression losing all mirth.

  “We need to be on our way.” He stepped around me, holding the map in one hand and taking back the torch in the other. “I’ll go first.”

  We ducked as we made our way through the passage. The air was cold and the stone walls equally chilly to the touch. The rugged, low ceiling presented dangerously sharp outcroppings in some places.

  At every turn, Edmund stopped to study the map and gauge our position. He pointed to a circular area branching off one passageway near the middle of the map. “We might be able to hide there.”