But it apparently wasn’t enough for Irontooth. His fist connected with my other cheek, this blow harder than the last. Blackness threatened to overtake me, and I fought against it, especially when I realized Gregor now stood over me, his sword clashing with Irontooth’s.
Shouting erupted around us as several men worked to disarm and restrain Gregor. I struggled to my feet. At the sight of a blade pressed against Gregor’s throat, I started to swing my weapon, only to find my arms wrenched behind my back.
The outcasts thrust me back to my knees in front of Irontooth.
Silence descended over the gathering again, and my heart thudded with a new fear, one I hadn’t experienced since starting my Testing—the fear that we were in very real danger of losing our lives.
“I say throw them into the sea and feed them to Loch Ness,” shouted a man from behind. Some chorused their agreement while others offered other suggestions.
Irontooth prodded me with the toe of his boot. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll do as they say.”
I bowed my head. I’d kept my identity as a prince of Scania hidden thus far. Once these outcasts realized I was a prince, they would most certainly expel me from the island, and I would have to forfeit my Testing. If they didn’t kill me first.
“Why are you here?”
“Please believe me when I say I am no foe.” I had to try one more time to broker for our lives. However, if I could not save us with my own ingenuity, then I would willingly give up the kingship, for I wouldn’t be worthy of such a role. “I vow that I am your humble servant. I pledge to do your bidding so long as it remains in accordance with God’s laws.”
Once more the outcasts grew silent and waited for their leader’s pronouncement. The damp air crackled around me with their anticipation.
I could feel Irontooth’s sharp gaze upon my bent head, and I prayed he would accept my offer.
“Nay,” he finally said.
As the cheers rose around us, my shoulders drooped with defeat.
“Feed them to the sea serpent!”
“Give me two weeks!” The veiled woman’s voice rose above the others. “And I shall discover his true purpose for being here.”
Calls of disdain and opposition followed the remark.
“If I do not succeed,” she called louder, “then I shall help you turn them into fodder for Loch Ness.”
How had I survived for two months in Blade’s camp without rousing suspicion, and I’d been present in this camp for two minutes and they already wanted to kill me? I suspected this noblewoman was to blame. She’d recognized my status when no one else had. She’d pointed out my duplicity to Irontooth, who now feared my motives for being here.
Why, then, was she attempting to save me? Perhaps she’d thought to earn Irontooth’s favor by bringing me to him but hadn’t expected her master to so quickly sentence me to death. Whatever the case, I was at her mercy and prayed Irontooth would accept her offer.
“One week,” Irontooth said. “You have one week to wrest the truth from them. If not, then we’ll deliver them to Loch Ness.”
I lifted my head and found Irontooth studying Veil, who stood a few feet away. She met his hard gaze without flinching, her shoulders straight, her head angled up as though she was accustomed to giving orders. Would she protest her master’s decision?
She hesitated for another heartbeat before bowing her head in submission.
The moment she was no longer looking at Irontooth, his stare softened, almost turned sad. And I knew without a doubt, he’d do anything for her. If I could win Veil’s favor, I would win his.
Chapter
4
Pearl
“Chain them to the walls,” I commanded, as I hopped down from the bottom rung of the ladder into the cave. Toad and Humphrey and several others pushed the prisoners deeper into the dank cavern we called our dungeon.
Guilt needled me. I’d almost cost these men their lives. I should have known Irontooth wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than the truth from Mikkel. But perhaps his secrets were too deep to unburden, especially so publicly. Mine were.
When I’d asked for two weeks, I’d known Irontooth would only give me one, and now I prayed that would be sufficient for discovering the real reason Mikkel was on the island.
I held my torch up, giving light to the dark cave with its low ceilings, smooth walls, and the dry pine boughs spread across the floor. It wasn’t the cleanest spot in camp, but it wasn’t as foul as the dungeons under the palace in Kensington.
Humphrey forced Mikkel to the floor and wrapped a manacle around his ankle.
“Bind Mikkel’s hands and his feet.”
Humphrey paused. I knew what he was thinking, that the prisoner would be helpless without his hands. But that was precisely what I wished for—for Mikkel to rely upon me for everything.
I stood back and watched as the men finished chaining the prisoners. Fowler complained the entire time, and Gregor didn’t make a sound. Although Mikkel didn’t speak either, his eyes communicated much more than words, mainly that he was in pain from the injuries he’d received during his run through the gauntlet.
From what I could tell, he’d sustained a gash near his jaw, along with burns and knife cuts on his arms. In taking the lead, he’d suffered the brunt of the brutality. He’d surprised me by refusing to allow his servant to protect him. Even more, he’d surprised me by taking the least effective weapon while giving Gregor and Fowler the means to defend themselves more sufficiently.
My astonishment had changed to admiration as Mikkel had advanced through the gauntlet so fearlessly, paving the way for Gregor and Fowler. He was clearly a good man who cared about his servant more than he did himself, perhaps proving my earlier statement wrong that Gregor was insignificant to him.
I was as curious as Irontooth to know who Mikkel really was and why he was here. Could I elicit the truth from him, or would he come up with a plausible excuse?
Humphrey stepped away from Mikkel, leaving both arms and legs manacled. In so vulnerable a position, the nobleman was without the ability to stop me from doing anything I wished to him.
At the prospect, something strange fluttered in my stomach. He was handsome, one of the handsomest men I’d met. If only I didn’t have to hide my face. Then I could use my beauty to win him over. I’d grown up watching my mother use her beauty to beguile people into doing her bidding, particularly my father. All she’d needed to do was peer at him with her mesmerizing eyes, curve her pretty lips, and whisper in his ear, and he became clay in her hands.
Over recent years, I’d realized my beauty was beguiling too, that it held some kind of power over men, almost as though it could cast a spell over them. When I’d first realized I wielded such influence, I was amused. But as time had passed, I grew frustrated that men saw only my outward appearance and paid little heed to anything else.
Dare I use my beguiling beauty to weave a spell over Mikkel and make him like clay in my hands? As appealing as the idea was, I cast it aside. I’d come to like the respect I earned from the outcasts for my actions and not for what I looked like. And I didn’t want that to change.
I would have to win Mikkel’s trust with other methods. I’d start by doctoring his wounds. Certainly the tender care would soften him. And I would befriend him so he’d think of me as an ally rather than an enemy.