He considered her plea, glancing at the row of tents where mounted knights awaited his command. With a reluctant nod of consent, he barked, “The knights and competitors remain here. Under my watchful guards. But the frightened spectators and visiting nobles…yes, my queen. Your future husband—and king—grants your royal request.”
Black cloak flapping like the wings of a giant bat, Ugolin rode toward the grandstand to address the cowering audience. “Messieurs dames,”he drawled, the side of his hideous face curling up in a snickering sneer, “your future queen has a most generous heart.” He shot Gabrielle a lewd, lascivious grin. “And I, your future king, have granted her request. You may leave at once, and I shall ensure the safety of your royal carriages. And your hastened departure.”
Amid anxious gasps and muffled shrieks, frantic spectators—including theVicomte de Vannesand the vicious vultures from Paris—poured out of the stands and scurried across the castle grounds like frightened mice evading a swarm of swooping hawks. Pavilions fell, whisked off the tournament field, as guests filed into their horse-drawn carriages and swiftly swept away. Musicians and performers, their theatrical costumes and instruments safely secured, fled for their lives in boldly painted, vividly colored, wooden caravans.
Within minutes, the spectators were gone. Gabrielle sighed in relief. And stepped toward the man she loathed.
Ugolin dismounted, tossing his horse’s reins to one of his grooms. Cloaked in arrogance, gloating with victory, he strode confidently toward Gabrielle with an outstretched, gloved hand. “Come, my queen. To the white wedding pavilion. The Bishop of Nantes is waiting to perform the ceremony.” He grabbed her hand and wrenched her against his scrawny body. Yanking her hair, he pulled back her head and placed the sharp tip of his dagger against her exposed throat. He licked the side of her face and panted in her ear. “I can’t take any chances, my love. You will be mine.Or you’ll die.”
He shouted to Bastien, who stood paralyzed, his anguished gaze fixed on Gabrielle. “Drop your weapon, or I’ll slice her pretty throat.” A putrid tongue slithered over her pounding pulse like a venomous snake poised to strike.
With a jut of his sparsely bearded chin, Ugolin summoned two armed guards. “Take his weapon. And bring him here. I want him to watch as I wed…” he snickered lewdly, thrusting his hardened body against Gabrielle’s’ backside, “…and bed…his intended bride.”
Trapping their prisoner between drawn swords, the duo of knights forced Bastien to surrender his blade. As they forced their captive to Ugolin’s side,Gabrielle held Bastien’s wretched gaze, messaging him with imploring eyes.You trained me well. I’m a warrior. And I plan to fight.
Comprehension dawned on his sullen, despairing face. The fury which blazed in his impassioned gaze told her that he’d understood.
And would fight to the death for her.
“Guard the king. And his knights. Keep them in the stands until after the wedding.I wantno interference.” Ugolin jerked his head, and a bevy of soldiers galloped across the field, dismounted, and—swords drawn—positioned themselves at each end of the stairs leading into the grandstand.
Heart racing, limbs quivering, mouth dry, Gabrielle glanced up at the stadium where the remaining royal guests huddled together in fear.
Her father stood transfixed beside her great-aunt Béatrice and Cardin’s betrothed, Charlotte. Prince Kaherdin and Princess Gargeolaine, defended by four valiant knights of Armorique, surrounded the trio of female healers who had cured the king. Gaultier and Cardin—Bastien’s two brothers and her father’s loyal, royal guards—stood protectively with a dozen knights of Beaufort in front of their sovereign monarch and his cherished royal guests.
Please, dear Goddess, help me save them. The man I love. And my beloved kingdom.
“I cannot wait to bed you, my beautiful Breton bride. As soon as the ceremony is complete, we’re going into the castle to consummate our marriage.” Ugolin grinned wickedly at Bastien. “And, before you are tortured to death…you’ll be forced to watch.” The dagger tip pressing at her throat, Ugolin wrapped an arm around Gabrielle’s waist, pinning her hips in place as he rubbed the hardened length of his body into her backside. He moaned into her ear. “Ugolin le Clou.Hard as a fucking nail.”
Between the pair of enemy blades, Bastien bellowed, “You bastard! I’ll kill you!”
Ugolin cackled like a carrion crow.
Revolted, Gabrielle swallowed the bile rising in her throat, shuddering at the thought of his vile, repulsive body penetrating hers. Shivers rippled through her.
She gauged his strength and agility. Although he now had her in a compromising position with the dagger at her neck, he did not possess the honed body of a well-trained warrior.
But Gabrielle certainly did.
Ugolin le Clou liked to dominate women, whom he considered weak. He would be unprepared for a female who could fight. And Gabrielle would use this to her advantage now.
While he dragged her toward the white silk pavilion where the wedding would take place, Gabrielle pretended to trip on the hem of her gown.
Ugolin stumbled, as intended, loosening his hold on the dagger at her neck.
Just as Bastien had taught her, Gabrielle stomped on Ugolin’s foot and rammed her elbows into his ribs. As her captor dropped the dagger and bent over in incapacitating pain, she wrenched out of his grip and swirled, sweeping her leg to dislodge the nearby supporting pillar.
Voluminous waves of white and heavy wooden poles crashed down, wrapping and trapping them in an enormous silk web. Gabrielle grabbed the dagger that Ugolin had dropped and slashed her way out, thrilled to see Bastien slay one of his two captors with a seized sword. Nearby, the other slaughtered knight lay motionless on the grass, blood pooling from a hideous gash at the base of his ravaged neck.
Spotting her emerging from the collapsed pavilion, Bastien’s face shone with relief as he retrieved his surrendered sword from the fallen knight. Sheathing his blade, he grabbed the other enemy weapon and rushed to Gabrielle’s aid, handing her the stolen steel and shield just as Ugolin le Clou and four knights emerged from the rubble.
Gabrielle lowered herself into a crouched position and unsheathed her sword. Bastien, at her side, raised hisboucliershield and bared his lethal blade.
The booming bellow of Ugolin’s ivoryoliphantblasted through the air.
Like a horde of hungry locusts swarming tender stalks of wheat, armored knights on warhorses descended en masse upon the castle grounds. The clash of metal and shrieks of agony rent the wintry sky as Gabrielle and Bastien engaged the advancing enemy.
Atop destriers galloping from the jousting tents, Lancelot’s knights fromla Joyeuse Gardeand Kaherdin’s soldiers of Armorique joined the frenzied foray. Bastien’s father, Esclados le Ros—the Red Knight of Landuc—stormed the battlefield with his troop of armored men. Dozens of King Guillemin’s knights poured fromle Château de Beaufort. And, in the distance, behind the castle, throngs of skilled soldiers squelched Ugolin’s invading army with a swift, staggering, surprise rear attack.
