Free Darkest before Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 2) by Jayne Castel

the stables and across the wide yard. The group of men Paeda had
selected, awaited him. Elfhere and Osulf were not among them; his friends had
been too badly injured to join him on his mission north. Instead, they had
followed the new king south to Tamworth.
    Paeda had chosen the escort carefully, and had made it
clear that all their lives were forfeit if any harm should come to his
betrothed. Maric did not know any of these men well, but they followed him
unquestioningly. They had all sustained injuries during the Battle of Winwaed, but
none that impeded their ability to ride, or defend Princess Alchflaed, if
necessary. Maric raised a hand in greeting as he approached the group of around
twenty men in all.
    “Ready to ride out?”
    “Aye,” Edgard, a tall, bald man with a craggy face and
sharp blue eyes stepped forward. “As soon as the princess deigns to join us.”
    Maric sensed that the men were not happy. Some had nodded
their agreement with Edgard, while others muttered under their breaths.
    “I like this no better than you,” he told them. “But this
is the order of our new king and we must swallow it.”
    His gaze shifted then to the pony, another heavy-set,
hardy-looking beast the northerners favored. It stood next to Edgard’s mount,
awaiting its rider.
    Maric’s gaze narrowed and he glanced over at the entrance
to Bebbanburg’s Great Tower. He had no wish to stride indoors and hurry the
princess up, but if she delayed any longer he would have to. They had a long
ride ahead, and much distance to cover before the bitter weather arrived. Yule
was inching ever closer and Paeda had insisted they arrive before Mother Night.
    Maric was just about to toss his reins to Edgard and go
inside to fetch the princess when a cloaked figure emerged from the Great
Tower. At first, he thought it was a servant, for the individual appeared to be
unescorted. Then, he noted the fine wool of the cloak, the fur edging of the
hood and the proud stance of its wearer.
    Princess Alchflaed had joined them.
    She walked slowly, as if every step weighed upon her. It
was clear she was no more eager to join her Mercian escorts than they were to
receive her. Moments later, two others emerged from the Great Tower and
followed the princess toward the knot of horsemen. Maric recognized Alchfrith
and his wife, and his gaze shifted behind them to the entrance, awaiting the
king’s arrival. However, there was no sign of Oswiu this morning.
    Maric took the pony from Edgard and led it toward the
princess. As she neared him, he glimpsed her face, shadowed by her hood but
still visible.
    “Milady,” he nodded. “I am Maric of Tamworth, Lord
Paeda’s emissary. I have been charged with ensuring your safety during the ride
south.”
    Her mouth thinned slightly, an expression that reminded
Maric of King Oswiu, and her eyes glinted within the shadow of her cowl.
    “Wes h ā l, Maric” she
replied. Her voice was low and soft, although Maric could hear the simmering
anger there. “I am sure my father and betrothed will be most grateful.”
    Her sarcasm was not lost on Maric but he did not comment
on it. Instead, he stepped back and let her mount her pony, which she did with
ease. He saw then that she was dressed as she had been the first time he had
seen her, in a long tunic, split at the sides. Underneath, she wore supple
leather leggings and thick fur boots that reached mid-calf.
    Trying not to stare at her shapely legs, Maric moved to
his own horse, and swung up onto the saddle. He and his men waited a short
while longer while Alchflaed said her goodbyes to her brother and his wife.
    “Look after Hraefn and Hafoc for me, Alchfrith?” she
spoke to her brother, her tone suddenly imploring. “They are good dogs. They
will serve you well, as they have done me.”
    Alchfrith looked up at his sister, his features
illuminated by the rising sun, which had just broken through the cloud cap. His
expression was unreadable, his gaze hooded.
    “I shall,