The Princess Pact: A Twist on Rumpelstiltskin (The Four Kingdoms Book 3) Page 6

  The leader was just reaching for her when the sound of a whistle echoed up the street. All four of the men’s heads shot up, and the man holding Marie released her and stepped back. She darted forward and grabbed her bag from where it had been abandoned on the street.

  Looking up she saw a small troupe of city guards rushing towards her, the boy from before leading the way. She nearly cried in gratitude. She had wronged him.

  The thieves attempted to flee the other way down the street, and most of the guards took off in pursuit of them. One guard, however, broke off to approach her.

  “Are you hurt, miss?” he asked. He sounded genuinely concerned, and despite her shock, she felt grateful to him. For a moment she had forgotten that most of the citizens of Northgate weren’t like her attackers.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and he looked impressed at her calm tone. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  “That’s our job, ma’am, and we’re happy to help. I’m just glad that young scamp knew where to find us.” He gestured towards the boy who was attempting to keep up with the other guards. “He can be a troublemaker right enough, but not like these men. He has a good heart.”

  “I’m very grateful to him.” Marie stopped herself before adding that he should present himself at the palace for a reward. She had almost forgotten her change in situation.

  The sudden memory of what she was doing alone in the street washed over her. She glanced at the guard uneasily. Was there a spark of recognition in his eye? And if not him, perhaps one of the other guards would recognise her.

  She glanced up the street and saw that the guards were returning. Apparently the ruffians had managed to escape.

  “Don’t worry,” said the guard, following her gaze. “I got a good look at one of them and have an equally good idea of who the others are. It’s not the first trouble they’ve caused so we should have enough to make a case to the magistrates now. We’ll round them up tonight when they hit the taverns.”

  Marie nodded her head, glad to hear they wouldn’t be free long to harass other travellers. She glanced uneasily again at the returning guards.

  “As I said, I’m very grateful for your assistance. But I’m also in something of a hurry…” She looked at the guard next to her nervously, but he nodded.

  “We’ve no cause to keep you, miss,” he said. “You’re free to go on your way.”

  “Thank you,” she said and gave him a small half-bow before hurrying down the street in the opposite direction to the returning guards.

  She would have liked to request their escort to the city gate, but she was too afraid of being recognised. She didn’t know what they would do if they realised who she was, and she didn’t want to find out. It was possible they would insist on returning her to the palace.

  She escaped the city without further incident, but she couldn’t relax. The north road into the forest wasn’t as highly frequented as the other roads out of the capital, but there was still the occasional traveller. She jumped at every noise and gave everyone she saw a wide berth.

  As soon as she hit the edge of the trees, she veered away from the path and found a secluded spot to rest and eat.

  “This will not do!” she said to the bushes around her.

  She received no response.

  “How will I fare in the rebel camp if I’m this afraid? How will I even make it to the rebels?”

  She had spent her whole life making herself strong in the ways required of a princess, working extra hard to compensate for her poor appearance. But princesses were required to be dignified and elegant and diplomatic. They had to know how to disarm a foreign delegation or a visiting prince with their poise and charm. They weren’t expected to know how to physically disarm a group of ruffians. That was what their guards were for.

  She shook her head. No longer!

  If she wasn’t a princess, then she had to learn to defend herself. She had left the palace without a plan, but she had one now. She would join the rebel training camp and learn to fight.

  That would also give her a chance to observe the strange man who was apparently her father. She hadn’t decided yet if she wanted to own the connection. Finding out her family wasn’t really hers had been enough of a shock. She hadn’t even begun to process what it meant that her father was some strange, barely-human-looking rebel leader. She wanted the chance to examine him before she decided what to do about it. Regardless of her feelings towards the family that had adopted her, she didn’t wish any harm on Northhelm.

  William wouldn’t like any of it, but with any luck she could use that charm and diplomacy to convince him to sneak straight back to the palace. Surely, after some reflection, he would realise how important he was to the kingdom.

  She smiled. It felt good to have a plan.

  Now she just needed to find the rebels. She tried to picture the map that Rafe had drawn and could recall only a vague image. Her heart sank.

  Chapter 9

  Much to Marie’s dismay, she made it all the way to the abandoned village of Greenwood without seeing anything that prompted her memory of the map. The village looked just as she had imagined, small and sad with its hollowed-out homes and broken-down walls.

  She peered listlessly into each doorway as she walked past but saw nothing of particular interest. She had already consumed every last scrap of the breakfast she’d brought with her and would have been glad to see some food, but she knew better than to expect it. And sure enough, just as the young Greenwood scout, Harrison, had reported, there was no sign of food, tools, weapons or blankets. Overturned and damaged furniture littered the empty rooms, and the occasional ripped garment hung over them. Nothing else was in sight.

  The empty village felt eerie, but night was starting to descend, and the houses of the village, even damaged as they were, offered better shelter than the open forest. Marie had spent nights in the open before while travelling, but she had always been part of a larger, well-supplied group.

  She walked through the village a second time, this time looking at the houses with an eye for the night’s accommodation. She had almost chosen one that looked slightly less damaged when a house near the far end of the town caught her attention. It was still fairly intact, although its door was lying on the ground several feet from its frame. She found it hard to pinpoint why this home felt different from the others, but its air was somehow less abandoned. Even without a door, it would provide reasonable shelter for the night.

  Marie marched inside and righted the table, which had been thrown against the far wall. She retrieved the broken leg and carefully balanced the table on top of it. As long as she didn’t lean on it too heavily, the leg should stay in its place. She carefully placed her bag down on its surface and looked around to see if there was any other salvageable furniture.

  None of the chairs had survived, but the beds in the second room looked reasonably undamaged. She smiled. Without food, she had no real need to sit at the table anyway. A bed was far more important.

  The weather was only starting to turn cold, but it was still a chilly night with nothing but her cloak to wrap around her. The walls of the cottage offered protection that was more than welcome – it would have been worse outside. She tossed and turned for most of the night, trying to keep her mind from circling endlessly between her adoptive parents in the palace and her apparent birth father in the woods.

  As soon as light began to seep into the structure, she rose and completed a limited morning ritual. Without food or any real way to wash, there wasn’t much to be done. On the other hand, she also didn’t know where to head next.

  Returning to the palace in defeat was entirely unpalatable, but if she couldn’t find the rebel camp, she wouldn’t have much choice. She couldn’t last long in the woods without food, tools or weapons.

  Poking idly around the house, her eye was caught by a large stone that had been tucked into one corner of the main room. Various items from the cottages had been strewn around outside, but she couldn’t
think of any reason why the looters would have carted a heavy stone into the house.

  She examined it more closely, but nothing about it seemed unusual. Her height and breadth gave Marie more strength than most of the other girls at court, but she was barely able to lift it. In the end, she settled for rolling it over.

  Hidden underneath was a sheet of parchment.

  She snatched it up with interest and found herself staring at a roughly drawn map. It was a functional rather than beautiful illustration, and her eye was immediately drawn to a spot clearly marked ‘rebel camp.’

  She gasped.

  A quick inspection revealed the town of Greenwood also sketched on the sheet. The area south of Greenwood, towards the capital, had been left blank, but several hazards between the town and the camp had been marked.

  She was holding a far more detailed map to the rebel camp than Rafe had given them at the palace. She stared at it.

  Had a villager left it here? Or a rebel? If so, who? And why?

  She looked around the house again, but nothing else caught her eye. She paced up and down, staring at the map in her hand. It was exactly what she needed, but could she trust it?

  On her fifth turn, she was hit by a sudden memory. Rafe!

  He had said that if he couldn’t get back to the capital, he would leave a message hidden in his host’s home. Perhaps he had realised the weakness of the map he had drawn previously and had snuck out early to leave a new one. Even if he provided no further information, this map made his spying efforts worthwhile.

  A smile spread across Marie’s face.

  If she was right, then this map really was exactly what she needed. And she even had her answer as to why this house had felt less abandoned. It had received a visitor more recently than any of the others.

  She picked up her bag and stepped out of the house, the map held out in front of her. She only made it three steps before she paused. Staring down at the map, she bit her lip.

  The map hadn’t been made or left for her. If she took it, the house might be empty when the king’s men came looking. There was no telling when Rafe would make it back.

  A night’s sleep hadn’t changed her own position. Despite the upheaval to her personal life, she had no interest in aiding the rebels to destroy Northhelm. She turned back into the house.

  Retrieving paper and pen from her bag, she carefully laid them out on the rickety table. Bending over to begin copying the map, she paused again. How exactly would she explain it, if the rebels caught her with a map to their camp?

  She frowned and nibbled on the end of the pen. After considerable thought, she sighed and packed the paper and pen away into her bag. She would have to memorise its contents.

  She studied it closely and then tried drawing the map in the dirt floor of the cottage without looking at the original. When she compared them, she had several things wrong. It took five attempts before she could perfectly reproduce the image from memory.

  Satisfied, she returned the parchment to its hiding spot and looked around the cottage. With the help of the villagers, the king would know which cottage to examine. They didn’t need any sign to set this house apart. If the next visitor to the village was a rebel, however…

  Marie returned the table to its overturned state and carefully restored everything else to its original level of destruction. Last of all, she smoothed out the floor and then traipsed back and forth across it several times to create a realistic level of disruption.

  Surveying the cottage from the doorway, she felt certain there was no sign of her visit. Shouldering her bag, and calling up her new mental map, she set off back into the forest.

  The villagers’ story had made the camp sound quite close to Greenwood. But it quickly became obvious that the local youths must be able to traverse the forest much more quickly than Marie. She had been hoping to reach the camp by mid-morning, but at lunchtime, she was still some way off according to the landmarks she had passed.

  She stopped to rest but, without any food, it was an unsatisfying break. She was hungrier than she could ever remember being and hoped the rebels would be willing not only to accept her but also to feed her as quickly as possible.

  Chapter 10

  Rafe had been right about the low levels of security. As Marie approached the expected location of the rebel camp, she kept a close eye out for sentries. No one challenged her, however, and she arrived at a large, open clearing without hindrance.

  She hesitated on the edge of the trees, examining the space before her. She could see a distant cave mouth and assumed that must be the beginning of the cave system Rafe had reported. As she watched, several people came in and out of the opening, calling greetings or questions to each other.

  The overall tone of the camp seemed light-hearted, as if the young foresters were on a camping trip rather than engaged in rebellion. The mood surprised Marie almost as much as the lack of security.

  Only the small group practicing sword play in the clearing marked the group as militant. Even from a distance, Marie could see the quality of their blades. It was much greater than their skill in wielding them.

  Once again, Rafe proved his reliability. The swords were not forester weapons.

  Marie chewed her lower lip. She had only been observing the rebel camp for less than a minute, and already it seemed a strange mix of contradictions.

  With a shake of her head, she threw off her hesitation. She hadn’t come all this way to back out at the last moment. Her stomach grumbled to remind her of another reason for continuing into the camp.

  She cast one last look around, hoping to see the rebel leader, but there was no sign of him. Sighing, she stepped forward.

  A sharp whoosh and a puff of air made her jump. She whirled around to stare at the arrow embedded in a tree trunk next to her ear. Whipping her head back to follow its path, she saw a young man perched in a tree on the other side of the clearing.

  He had nocked another arrow but wasn’t aiming it at her. She looked back at the arrow next to her head and then met the eyes of the archer. He held her gaze with a calm, serious expression. He didn’t look like someone who missed. It must have been a warning shot.

  So there was some security, after all.

  While she had been examining the sentry, the group practicing in the clearing had broken off and rushed towards her. She drew a deep breath and held her ground as they quickly formed a ring around her.

  She scanned their faces, but neither William nor Rafe were amongst them. Facing the ring of sword points alone brought memories of the previous morning’s attack rushing back. She squared her shoulders and stood tall.

  She had been grateful for rescue then, but she refused to look for one now. She would rescue herself.

  “And who do we have here?” The amused drawl provided yet another juxtaposition when compared to the serious face of the sentry in the tree.

  Marie glanced between the archer and the speaker, a young man who clearly considered himself a leader amongst the trainee soldiers.

  “He never misses, you know,” said a young woman a little way round the circle. Her eyes remained fixed on Marie, but the princess knew she referred to the archer.

  “I guessed as much,” said Marie calmly.

  A small smile flitted across the other girl’s lips, and Marie wondered what sort of relationship she had with the boy in the tree.

  “Yes, yes, but who are you?” The leader’s impatience with the interjection coloured his tone. Marie had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Clearly he didn’t have as much control over the group as he thought he did.

  She opened her mouth and then quickly closed it again. Stupid, stupid! The hours of traipsing through the forest should have given her ample time to prepare for such an obvious question. And yet she had nearly announced herself with her full name and title.

  The speaker’s eyes narrowed, and she quickly blurted out an answer.

  “Marie. I’m Marie.”

  Internally she kicked hersel
f for her stupidity, but externally she maintained a calm façade. Marie was a common enough name in Northhelm, and they would hardly be expecting the princess to turn up alone at their camp.

  Sure enough, no one reacted to her announcement or gave any sign of recognition.

  “How did you find us and why have you come?” It was the girl again and she kept her eyes glued on Marie despite receiving a glare from the pseudo-leader.

  Marie met her eyes with a smile. She had prepared for this part.

  “I’m an old friend of Rafe. He told me all about the camp here and how to find it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to join him at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. So I decided to come.” She flashed her smile around the group. “Is he here?”

  Marie was pinning her own safety on Rafe’s credibility with the rebels, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other believable explanation for her appearance. She was hardly going to announce that she was possibly the daughter of their leader. She wasn’t quite ready to accept that herself.

  “Oh! Rafe.” The girl’s tone suggested acceptance, but underlying tension remained.

  Marie examined the group as subtly as possible and noticed an interesting phenomenon. The majority of the young men were smiling and nodding, the main exception being the original speaker who still looked angry at losing control of the proceedings.

  The tension emanated mostly from the girls. She repressed a smile.

  Rafe must be popular in camp if an old friend of his was so unwelcome. No, she thought, not an old friend, an old female friend.

  The reaction of the other girls was almost enough to make her forget her gnawing hunger. All of her life she had been judged by the highest of standards and had failed to measure up. But now that she was just ordinary Marie, she was clearly considered pretty enough to count as a rival. It was a nice feeling and new enough to be appreciated. She had thought that she’d risen above caring about such petty things. It turned out she wasn’t so elevated after all.