Her lord.
Her king.
And Gabrielle’s fleeting freedom would end.
She couldn’t bear the idea of being handed over—like a piece of property—to the winner of the tournament. After giving herself freely to the man she loved, Gabrielle couldn’t imagine anyone other than Bastien de Landuc in her marriage bed. And the thought of Ugolin le Clou becoming her husband made her positively ill.
A shiver of dread rippled up her spine.
When they arrived at the practice field, she and Bastien dismounted and tethered their horses at the edge of the forest where the royal guards remained on horseback to stand watch. Savage waves crashed against the craggy cliff far below the plateau, sending frothy, salty spray into the clouds where a flock of squawking white gannets flew overhead. Her heart as bleak as the gray sky, heavy with sorrow and loss, Gabrielle unsheathed her sword, bent her knees, and prepared for their last lesson together.
His emerald eyes aflame, Bastien beckoned her to attack. She lunged; he parried, bringing the tip of his sword around in a downward slice, causing her to step back. Just as she circled around to launch a new strike, the sudden clash of metal, angry shouts of men, and clamor of pounding hooves announced an ambush.
While the mounted guards battled invaders who appeared out of nowhere, six horsemen clad as peasants in hooded cloaks thundered out of the dense forest, headed directly toward them. Swords drawn, four descended upon Bastien while two others halted, dismounted, and swarmed Gabrielle.
Bastien had trained her well; she was skilled and adept with the blade. But while she clashed swords with one assailant from the front, the other slammed his shield against the backs of her knees, causing them to buckle as she collapsed to the ground. The first attacker disarmed her and quickly retrieved the fallen sword, while the second slid a powerful arm under her bent torso, lifting her kicking and screaming off the ground, restraining her in a strangling chokehold.
Her heart pounding out of her chest, she strained futilely against his unyielding grip, frantically scanning the embattled plateau for Bastien.
Swords colliding, shields crashing, grunts heaving, he was heavily engaged in battle, having killed three of his attackers, their mutilated bodies in a bloodied heap at his feet. Anguish blazing across his impassioned face, he dauntlessly fought the fourth, struggling desperately to reach Gabrielle.
One of her assailants—the huntsman who had retrieved her sword—strapped it to his horse’s saddle and briskly led the animal toward Gabrielle’s captor, a wicked gleam in his dark, cruel eyes.
I cannot let them take me. Think! Remember what Bastien taught you. Break free!
Balancing on her left foot, she rammed her right boot into his sensitive kneecap with all her might as she slammed the back of her hard skull into his vulnerable nose.
Howling in pain, he released her, one hand flying to staunch the profusion of gushing blood, the other seeking to assuage his damaged knee.
Gabrielle swiftly unsheathed the dagger from her waist, spun in a vicious circle, and slashed her assailant’s throat. He dropped forward onto his knees, clutching his neck and sputtering blood as he gasped for air, falling onto his side as dark liquid pooled in a thick puddle under his heinous wound.
Stunned at the sight of a crazed woman warrior, the second assailant stood frozen in utter stupefaction as Gabrielle unerringly hurled her dagger into his villainous heart. He careened face first onto the cold, hard ground.
Bastien shouted to her, his final opponent slain on the battlefield behind him. “Gabrielle! To the cave!” He gestured to her assailant’s horse as he leapt into the saddle of one of his own attackers.
With her booted foot, she quickly rolled the lifeless huntsman onto his back and retrieved her dagger, returning it to the strap at her waist. She ran to his horse, withdrew her sword, sheathing it as she climbed adroitly into the saddle. She cast a quick glance at Marivée, tethered at the far edge of the forest. There was no time to run across the plain. Goddess willing, if she survived, Gabrielle would return for her beautiful, beloved horse.
The distressed baritone of Sir Pontivy—the First Knight ofle Château de Beaufort—bellowed across the battlefield. “Save the Princess! Go!”
With Bastien close behind, Gabrielle galloped away from the bloodymêléewhere her beleaguered, outnumbered, fiercely loyal royal guards defended her to the death.
She tore through the forest, weaving through the familiar trees, arriving at last to the wooded ledge with the path leading down to the sheltered shore. They flew out of the saddles and released the horses, slapping their rumps to drive them off into the forest, leading pursuers in the wrong direction, away from the beach.
Bastien grabbed her hand and dashed down the narrow, steep path to the sandy shore two hundred feet below the wooded ledge.
Adrenaline surging, her heart hammering, her mouth bone dry, Gabrielle ran across the beach with Bastien, through the hidden sea cave entrance, into the dark, secret tunnel. When they came to the trap door in the cave ceiling which led up into the castle, Bastien pushed it open, boosted her overhead, then pulled himself into the storage cellar within the foundation ofle Château de Beaufort.
“I always unlock the door each time we train, in the event we ever want to get up into the castle. Never have we needed it more than today.” Taking her hand, he raced up the stone steps into the kitchen pantry, locking the door behind him as he shouted for his brothers. “Gaultier! Cardin! Summon the guards! We’re under attack!”
Flustered servants flocking at his heels, he quickly brought Gabrielle into the royal solar where King Guillemin sat on his informal throne, looking out the large window at the savage sea crashing against the craggy cliff far below the castle. At their sudden approach, the king turned abruptly toward them, astonishment written across his gaunt, weary face.
Bastien seated a breathless Gabrielle next to her father and beckoned the chamberlain Ezhvin. “The princess is distraught, for there was an attempt to abduct her during our training today. See to her needs. I must return at once to aid Sir Pontivy.”
He kissed her hand, his intense eyes aflame. “Tell your father what happened. I’ll return as soon as possible.” In a flash, he was gone, leaving Gabrielle shaking from the assault.
And terrified that Bastien might not return.
“What happened, Gabrielle? You were attacked?” Concern, shock, and outrage warred in her father’s assessing gaze as a capable attendant placed a steaming mug oftisaneon the table in front of her with a polite curtsey and discreetly disappeared.
