“Look,” I said, holding her quivering fingers and angling the looking glass for her. “There. You see?”
Her lips parted, and her eyes went wide as the reflection came to her eyes.
“No, it…it…” With her first finger, she delicately traced the moon, then the star, and then raised her eyes to mine. “This has to be some sort of mistake. Doesn’t it?”
The birthmark was enough to convince me, but looking at her now with fresh eyes I had zero doubt. She had the same black hair as King Rowan. And those crystal-clear green eyes were the same as the stories of the first queen, his first wife, the queen who had died in childbirth.
How many songs had been sung about Sara and her mother? And now here she was. A legend in the flesh.
“It’s no mistake. You’re the stolen child. Someone in your family must have known the truth, and they will pay for that, one way or another.”
She placed the mirror back on the mantel and reached out to me, trying to draw me to her again. “Even if it is true, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. All my life I have been dreaming of you, without even knowing such happiness could exist. And now I’ve found you, it makes no difference who I was once. No one needs to know. Nobody will see me like this, nobody but you.” She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. “Hold me,” she said. “Forget the mark. I’m just me. Sara.”
Could we just keep this our secret, never tell a soul and live happily ever after? Why not? Someone in her family, perhaps all of her family, knew this truth, but I doubted they would say anything. Their own lives would be forfeit if they did. If anything, it gave me leverage over them all, it gave me a way to ensure our safety continued.
But what about the Clan Johnston men that accosted her in the inn? Would they say anything?
No. No, I told myself it wouldn’t make sense. In their position, I would hold my tongue. They almost raped her, the princess of the realm, and they knew it. They tore her clothes, looked at her bare flesh. Their actions were tantamount to blasphemy and their punishment would be death if the news ever came to the king.
We loved each other, she would be mine in a few days and the last thing we needed was to bring that crashing down with this revelation.
“Please, Bors…tell me we will go on like we were. You did not see the mark. You can brand it or burn it away…”
in agreement but in my heart, I felt a dark dread take hold. “No. Never. Sara. Please don’t cry. Every tear you cry takes a year from my life. I will find our way. Find a way. Once again, you must trust me.”
I sat vigil as she slept. I’d fought so many battles, endured so many injuries, but if the truth ever came out I would be no match for the firestorm that would descend on our happiness.
I wanted nothing but her, but by rights I had no claim to her. A marriage performed by a lowly parish priest in a ceremony with a single witness? It wouldn’t be enough. They’d tear up the paper and tear me limb from limb. But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t lose her.
Not a goddamned chance.
I fucking loved her, and I always would. I would find a way to make it work.
As I studied her face, peaceful in sleep, I promised that I would honor her and protect her, cherish her and care for her, come what may. Good or bad, war or peace.
Forever.
Hours before dawn, a noise broke the silence—furtive, quick footsteps on the path outside.
I listened. There were at least four men, maybe more. They approached the house from the front, and though they were trying to be quiet, they weren’t nearly quiet enough. Whoever they were, they weren’t thieves. But that didn’t mean danger wasn’t coming to the door.
I pulled on my britches and drew my blade from its sheath. I locked the front door from the inside before they could reach it, and then exited the cottage from the back, outflanking them as I had done so many times in battle. There were five, along with a bound and hooded hostage.
The light was too dim for me to see their faces, but I knew damned well who they were. The same five men who’d drunkenly accosted Sara in the town square. The same five who’d tried to rape her in the inn.
No. Six. Their captain had said there was another. Someone wasn’t here. Shit, what did that mean?
I tried to push it out of my mind, tried to focus on the moment at hand. So much for my assumption they’d be too smart to try anything.