Derrik could smell the coming rain. Cursing under his breath, he looked past the tree covers and saw the dark clouds, finding further proof of the impending storm. In his haste to follow Amelie, he didn’t think to bring along his cloak. If it rained, he was sure to get soaked to the bone.
Looking gloomily around him, he noted the half a dozen moss-covered boulders scattered randomly, and the handful of fallen trees on the ground which looked like discarded chess pieces. The dense forest hummed with unseen activity, and occasional bird cries echoed throughout the trees. It seemed all very peaceful, but Derrik knew how deceptive appearances could be.
What the hell was she doing here? Unless a person had a legitimate reason for being in the woods, it was folly to be wandering alone. The threats of encountering wild animals, outlaws and cutthroats were far too great. And even if she had a small dagger, it would provide little protection against them.
He slapped at a mosquito that landed on his knuckle. And, he thought irritably, sane people preferred to stay in the confines of a building. They didn’t willingly meander into the thicket to become fodder for biting insects.
The insect managed to escape, and Derrik rubbed hard at the bite on his hand. He recognized that his annoyance was unreasonable. After all, he was a knight, and he knew how to survive harsh conditions. In fact, he had gone on many expeditions where the conditions were far worse than these. It was really Amelie’s recklessness that bothered him, he decided. She had thundered out of the castle without any regard for anyone. In her ensuing madness to escape, she had almost trampled a servant who fell in her flight path. He shook his head at the incident. He never understood women in his youth, and he couldn’t understand women now that he was older. Then on top of that, it seemed that he was cursed with the luck of having to chase after young maidens who heedlessly escaped from their castles.
Luckily he had kept a close watch on Amelie though. If anything came of this, it was that all his suspicions were confirmed; she really did know more than she let on. She had tried to throw him off by acting ignorant and innocent, but he saw those murderous glances she threw at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.
He smiled grimly at the memory. The servants had told him that Amelie rarely lashed out at them, but it would seem that a hot temper simmered underneath her cool exterior, a temper that was mostly directed at him. Of course he couldn’t put the full blame on her. He knew that he was partly to blame as well. For some reason he found it amusing to get a rise out of her. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to provoke her, although if he thought things over, he supposed that it was prudent to keep his distance, and just wait for Lord Stanbury to return to his castle.
“So this is where Lady Amelie went,” Derrik said as the forest in front of him suddenly opened up. He found himself in a clearing where a small building sat in the middle of it. Off to the side, he spotted the brown palfrey tied to the fence, its head bent to feed on the grass that grew there.
Pulling at the reins, he stopped to survey the building. The cottage itself seemed well kept. The hole in the thatched roof had no inviting smoke curling out of it. And it was quiet, almost too quiet for his liking.
Derrik nudged his courser forward, and allowed the horse to continue at a leisurely pace. He already knew that she was inside; the partly opened door proved that. His scanning eyes settled on the bundles of sage nailed to the top of the wooden door frame. It was a clear sign that whoever lived here felt a need for extra protection against the spirits and demons that lurked in the forest. Derrik crossed himself, and considered the sage bundles as a warning. Not many people would willingly want to live in this kind of seclusion, especially when an ale house was miles away, and ferocious wolves, boars and ghouls were within speaking distance.
A slight breeze brought over the pungent smells from the garden. He reached to the back of his head and absently scratched at it, mulling over his initial impression of the cottage. On second thought, he was likely wrong about this place. If he had to guess, this cottage belonged to an herbalist and not a woodcutter. He was certain that whoever lived here didn’t grow herbs for cooking. First of all, a stew made from most of these herbs would yield a sharp, unbearable aftertaste. The thought of the odor and taste of that imaginary stew was enough to make him gag. And second of all, the strong, penetrating perfume that drifted from the garden reminded him too much of the smell that often emanated from the king.
As his courser moved past the garden, the odor became more powerful. Derrik screwed up his face and pulled his tunic to his nose, trying to block out the overwhelming stench. The smell itself wasn’t that terrible, but it dredged up memories of the king’s former herbalist who reveled in these strange and pungent aromas. His nose twitched at the recollection. The herbalist was especially fond of preparing brews using the horrid smelling plants, and forcing wounded knights to drink the bitter-tasting medicine. He had taken the herbal medicine upon two occasions, and after drinking the potion, he would have rather dealt with the pain.
He had to allow that not everyone had the same abhorrence to herbal remedies. But if Amelie needed to get a cure from the herbalist, why didn’t she just say so? She could have dispatched one of her men to get the medicine, and then there would be no need for her dramatic exit from the castle.
Shaking his head, he took in a deep breath. Perhaps his initial assessment of Amelie was incorrect, and she was actually a woman who didn’t have much sense. He knew that there were a lot of those women around, having met quite a few at the Royal Palace.
A sudden noise coming from inside the cottage sounded, breaking him out of his thoughts. His horse’s ears flicked and he let out a small snort in response to the unnatural disturbance.
“Nothing to be nervous about, boy,” Derrik murmured as he reached down and absently patted his horse on the neck. His mind raced, although he kept his voice calm and reassuring.
As he came closer to the cottage, he was surprised to see that the door was opened wider than he had thought. He squinted from his saddle, but unfortunately he couldn’t see much. With the shutters closed and no light streaming through, the interior was as dark as pitch. He thought to call out her name, but decided against it. Amelie was probably already aware of his arrival. But he was surprised that she wasn’t already waiting for him at the door, or at the very least, rushing out of the building with an accusatory expression on her face, and demanding to know why he followed her.
But then a troubling thought crossed his mind. What if Amelie had gone inside to meet with a lover? From his interview of her people, he gathered that they revered, and had unquestioning faith in her decision making abilities. If she decided to take on a lover, no one, not even her nursemaid, would dare question her.
As well, Derrik knew it wasn’t uncommon for a noblewoman to have a secret lover. From all that he learned at the royal courts, some women chose to be discreet in their indiscretions. Perhaps Amelie had similar inclinations. Reaching for his shoulders, he rubbed at a knot that suddenly appeared there. If he discovered her and her lover locked in an intimate embrace, it would be highly awkward, not to mention embarrassing.
Stopping his horse, he looked behind him, almost tempted to turn around and head back to the castle. Was there really a need to follow Lord Stanbury’s daughter when the traitor might show up at the castle at any time?
But still he hesitated, and a festering thought took hold of his mind. What if there was another reason that Amelie was here? He narrowed his eyes speculatively at the opened door. She made too much effort to leave the castle in disguise. If this was a lover’s rendezvous, she didn’t need to recklessly endanger herself and others by making such a daring escape.
In fact, she could have sent for the lover to visit her at the castle… But Derrik shook his head. It made more sense that Amelie was up to something. Likely he had underestimated her, and she was more scheming than he thought.
Stopping next to her palfrey, he slipped off his courser and tied the reins to the sturdy fence that surrounded the large herb garden. Crouching down, he then studied the markings on the ground. The grass blades bent in several places where Amelie and her horse had walked. And it was difficult to determine whether anyone else had arrived to meet with her in the cottage.
Derrik walked up the beaten pathway that led to the door of the cottage, and again he shook his head at Amelie’s carelessness. Why had she run off without an armed escort? And what was it about the women of his acquaintance that went heedless into the arms of danger? An image of Rowena de Belleville flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth. With Rowena, he knew she had run away from her father. But with Amelie, things weren’t so clear. All he knew was that she staged a commotion that was designed to confound and distract him.
He pushed opened the door further with his foot and hesitated momentarily when the door creaked.
“My lady?”
The door was now fully ajar and he peered into the darkened space.
Seeing nothing, he cautiously took another step inside. His foot didn’t even have a chance to settle on the hard ground when he heard a slight sound off to the left. Turning his head swiftly in that direction, he was startled to find Amelie on the ground, her entire body wrapped with a cord of rope. She was straining and pulling at the rope, a rag stuffed in her mouth.
“What the —”
But he never finished his sentence because a sudden movement caught his eye, and then he heard the sickening, unmistakable whooshing sound whistling through the air. Out of pure instinct, he dropped to the ground and rolled quickly over to the table that sat in the middle of the room. He made it just in time to hear the thump of a knife sticking into heavy wood. If he had reacted a second too late, the blade would have impaled him to the door.
And before he had time to push himself off the floor, a man dashed out from the shadows and ran through the open portal.