The Iron Princess (8 page)

Her limbs stiff with overuse, Katia sat on her horse, clutching the front of her gown with one hand and the reins with the other, keeping a watchful eye on the far edge of the field, expecting Andrei to spring out of the forest at any moment.

Without asking, Lothair reached up and removed her from the horse. He towered over her, his eyes staring daggers into her. Katia felt like a child about to be spanked and sent to bed without dinner. He led her to a large, smooth rock and pressed gently on her shoulder so she would sit. He left her there and returned to his horse to rummage through a saddle pack, returning with a ladle, some bread, and a handkerchief. He crouched down at the edge of the stream. Sunlight sparkled across the surface. The atmosphere was almost dreamlike. Her limbs were heavy and sluggish, so she sat helplessly as she watched Lothair splash water on his face, wipe his neck, and wet his hair, slicking it back off his handsome face.

None of this felt real. She was so far from home, with no real hope of returning now, and so much had happened. The violent shivering returned.

Lothair returned with a ladle full of cool mountain water and passed it to her. He tore off a chunk of bread and placed it in her hand.

“You need to eat something to settle your nerves.” He wouldn’t look at her for more than a passing glance. It was clear he was furious with her. How he must hate her for all the trouble she had caused him.

She held the bread and water and pled for her arms to stop shaking enough to raise either to her lips. He passed her a piece of cloth, but she did not have a free hand to accept.

“You have blood on your face. Here, clean yourself.” He looked away.

She stared down at her trembling hands. She was behaving like an invalid.

Sighing loudly and cursing under his breath, Lothair squatted down, dipped the cloth in the water, and started to clean her face with a firm touch. When he was done, he pulled a thick wool tunic over her head, removed the untouched ladle and bread from her hands, and turned his back so that she could properly cover herself. It was clear he hated her, and though that made her want to burst into tears, she completely understood why. She also hated herself quite a lot at that moment.

***

Lothair scanned the tree line. Logic told him that without horses, the prince could not be in pursuit, yet his inner voice would not quiet. He saw danger in every gust of wind that floated across the field, every shady outline under the trees.

“My thanks, Lothair,” Katia said in a defeated tone. She was so hard to look at like this; uncertainty seemed unnatural on her. She was not this . . . trembling girl. She was a wild hellcat that smiled at you while she tore you apart. He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. His feelings for her were nothing more than that he would have for a sister, he told himself. There was no folly in touching her to offer the comfort that she needed. She curled into his chest and began to weep.

“I am sorry,” she said. “This is all my fault. I almost got Tosha killed. I almost got all of you killed. I am so sorry, Lothair. He wants me. He knows I am Magnus’s daughter now. Just leave me and go. Take Tosha with you and go.” She looked up, her eyes red and face blotchy. “The prince controls the roads. We cannot go north to the sea. We—they will not stop until—he knows Magnus. I do not fully understand but this has something to do with my father.”

Back at the palace, she had appeared fit and confident. Now he could see the toll these many weeks of playing spy had taken on her.

“We need to stay away from all ports outside of Saxon control,” he said. “They will expect us to try again for the fastest route home. No, we will go west, over the mountains.”

He stared at the western mountains, the most challenging, yet fastest, route by land. “We’ll need to separate,” Lothair said. “Valen with one team of horses should go southwest. One team with Fist will head south-southwest, and Lars will take Tosha northwest.” His mind was racing ahead. “We will reunite in Bohemia. Fist and Valen are as at home in Prague as in Lubeck.”

He gazed at the shallow riverbed. Ideas and calculations were rapidly forming; he knew now what needed to be done. “It will take over a month, if the horses hold. When we reach Bohemia, we will be less than two weeks to Lubeck. Most important, from there we will be in German territory. That is what we will do.”

The Slavic and Rus tribes in the area did not trust one another. If they could get over the mountains, then they would be in a new fief. The prince would not be able to control the sparse countryside so far from his stronghold. “If the map you stole is accurate,” he continued, “then the bulk of Andrei’s troops are already too far out of his reach to come after us. We need to get a week ahead and then . . . then we will all have a fair chance. The weather is warm. The mountain pass will be manageable. This will work.

“Come, we need to discuss the plan with the others.” He offered Katia his hand, but she did not accept.

“Why are you doing this, Lothair?” She sounded pitiful. The scab on her lip cracked and a trickle of blood ran down her small chin. “You will all be killed if you are caught with me. You should go ahead—”

“I picked a side, Katia.” He smiled at her, hoping to ease her fretful breakdown. “Did you not notice?” She tried to smile in return, but it was forlorn and he hated the sight of it. He dragged her up to her feet. “Come on, we’ve work to do. We need to sort through the saddle packs and divide supplies.”

Having a small task to do finally got her moving. Valen, Fist, Lars, and Tosha were already sorting and organizing. Andrei’s patrol had not packed much. They would have simply helped themselves to whatever they needed at the nearest farm. What they had plenty of were horses and weapons. They could not eat steel and they would need more supplies to be able to travel high into the remote mountains.

Lothair discussed his ideas with his friends and they were all in agreement. Few options remained at this point. Along the way, they would sell the extra horses as needed to purchase food and supplies. Lars suggested that he and Lothair regroup before Prague, perhaps in Brodno. To travel alone with a woman in the mountains would be one thing, but in the larger villages in between, it would be smarter to have a sword to guard both your front and your back.

Adjusting the leather strapping on Homer, Lothair overheard the women saying their farewell.

“Please forgive me for getting you involved in all this, Tosh. I did not think . . .” Katia trailed off, sounding on the verge of tears again.

“Kat, you never cry.” Her handmaiden rubbed her shoulder. “What did Andrei do to you?” she asked in a low, concerned voice.

Katia did not seem able to look her friend in the eye. “I broke free after he cut my lace—” She raised her hands to her throat. “He has my father’s ring.” A fresh set of tears started. “Far will never forgive me. It was his father’s father’s ring. He—”

“Kat! Kat!” Tosha hugged her friend close. “He will not care about one silly ring. He has a mountain of gold rings. I know. I have to polish them. He has only one daughter, a brave daughter who is trying to protect her brothers. Remember all the reasons you told me why we had to come here?”

Tosha continued to rub Katia’s back. “You’re worrying me. I’ve never seen you look so tired before and we still have a long road ahead. Though my road may be a bit more pleasing than yours. My escort kisses like a dream.” The handmaiden blushed and glanced over at Lars, who was tying down their packs.

“Try and enjoy your adventure. I fear that when your father gets ahold of you, he will be locking you in your room for a year, maybe more. So it’s best we both enjoy our freedom while it lasts.”

Katia kissed Tosha on the cheek. “Thank you. I love you so very much. Please be safe.” Katia tried to smile but it came off pained and twisted looking.

“Take good care of my sister, Lothair.” Tosha flicked her eyes over to Lothair. She looked at him in a way that told him that she knew he had overheard their entire conversation. “I may not look scary, but I have friends in low places that I can set after you.” Tosha wagged her finger at him.

Lars chuckled and helped Tosha up on her horse, his hand lingering for longer than necessary on the young maid’s upper thigh. “Don’t worry about your friend,
flicka
,” Lars said to Tosha. “Lothair and chivalry go hand in hand. He’s practically a monk.”

“Poor Katia, how dreary. I’m sure glad you’re no monk.” The handmaiden sent Lars a flirtatious look.

Lothair bade farewell to his companions. Until they were all crowded around a tavern drinking ale and toasting to heart and home, Lothair did not expect he would be able to sleep. It would be a very long, lonely, and dangerous month of constantly looking over their shoulders. “God’s speed,” he whispered.

“We’re losing valuable light. Let’s go,” Lothair said to Katia. She peeked over at him and again tried to smile, but it fell flat. Her trembling had stopped, but her normal feisty manner was still absent.

“I’m staying. Here, take this.” She handed up the map and a gold arm ring that bore her name and her father’s mark. “That map was what I came for. At least I finally did something useful with my life. If I don’t go back, Andrei will simply change his plans and this will all have been for nothing.” She stared at him. Her long hair had come loose from her braid and it whipped around her head in the breeze. She pushed her hair off her face, rose up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything. Farewell, Lothair.”

“I am one minute from tossing you over my knee and giving your backside the tanning it deserves,” Lothair said. “Get on your horse, iron princess.” He shoved her, none too gently, toward the prince’s black Arabian. Coddling her was getting him nowhere so he thought to provoke her to lash out—that would wipe the mewling expression off her face.

“No! Our friends will never know we parted here,” she said. “You have done enough. I did this. I put Tosha in danger. I put you all in danger. Go home to Lubeck. Warn the duke and whomever you can about the upcoming war. Perhaps there is still some time to prepare and protect the north before . . .” Her eyes cast down.

“Get on your horse, Katia!” The warhorse snorted, jerking its head and stomping angrily, unsettled by the tension.

“But—” she started to say.

“Get on your horse and don’t waste my time with this womanly drivel.” He stretched his aching back, waiting for her to take the bait.

“It is not drivel!” She sounded a bit more fired up. Finally.

“Yes it is. Now, I wagered Lars we would beat them to Brodno by a week, so come on. Don’t waste both my coin as well as my time.”

“But—” she began.

“Save your breath, princess,” he said with a grin, knowing how much she hated him calling her that. “I’m not leaving you here and you are not going back to Bogolyubovo.” He slapped her mount’s rump and it lunged forward. He followed close behind her, towing seven horses, their share of the herd, on a long lead.

Including their own personal mounts, they had nine horses, all of very high quality. If he were to keep them all healthy and moving fast, he’d need to keep them well fed with grain. Traveling with a woman, he’d need to provide her with a tent and warmer garments. The list of requirements was getting long. To fulfill it, he’d need to find a farmer with whom he could trade a horse, hopefully long before they reached the steeper mountain passes.

***

A few days later, they came across a farm in poor condition with nothing to trade. Lothair told Katia that they would need to start rationing the little food they had left.

Lothair knew they couldn’t safely keep up this pace, so the day they crossed into Polack territory, he took an hour to hunt a rabbit for dinner and made a proper camp, deeming it safe enough for them to take a full night’s rest.

Katia was asleep the moment her head hit the ground. She looked like a young girl in her sleep, curled in close beside him like a kitten, her hands tucked under her cheek. He did not want to admit how much he liked her proximity.

She was nothing like the girl he remembered from the first time they met. Her body smelled, curved, and moved as a woman. She was no more work to travel the road with than Lars, although her beauty was proving to be very distracting.

Self-mastery in her presence became his second greatest concern, after providing for their basic needs. Over the last few years, he had avoided spending time with maidens for good reason. He would never take a wife—he refused to be used by his father, who would want him to marry for political gain. When the physical need for a woman became more than his own hand could satisfy, he selected courtesans and always took precautions. He would not be responsible for bastards or broken hearts.

Lothair shook his head, dismissing such serious thoughts, and swept a few strands of hair behind Katia’s cheek with his finger. She sighed softly in her sleep. He lowered his head to lie next to her, closer than he had ever dared to lay his head before.

He curled his arm under his head and brazenly studied her features in the moonlight. Her sweet, soft exhale traveled across his skin, and his body went rigid from head to toe. As much as his body ached from fatigue, he did not surrender to sleep, but lay in silence, holding his breath, willingly tormenting himself for this rare pleasure of being so close to her.

***

Two weeks into their journey, they came upon a village that had a vibrant market, where Lothair sold two horses for a price higher than he had hoped, leaving them with seven fine horses to complete their journey, which should be more than enough. He then bought three packs of grain for the horses, several wheels of cheese, and dried salami, the butcher assuring him the curried meat was good for more than a month. He also purchased a small cauldron, knowing that a hot meal would help them ward off illness as the nights grew colder. He was also very pleased to have acquired a well-crafted goatskin canvas that they could make a quick shelter with each night, and spent a little extra coin on a few personal items including soaps, a comb, and a new, warmer boots and a cloak for Katia. Katia had gone off in search of additional blankets and a change of clothing for the mountain passes that were still to come.

The weather was holding. It would be an extended harvest season from what Lothair estimated, and after surveying the supplies, he felt confident they would not only make it back to Lubeck in under a month, but also that they would win his wager with Lars. Katia might even get her map to her father before winter set in and closed off the pass to the north.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lothair watched her golden head weave through the crowd of villagers at the market. He pretended not to notice as she sauntered up to his side.

“A tent? You spoil me, Lothair.” She emptied her armload of provisions next to his.

“We should spend the night at the inn,” he suggested, “Have a proper meal, bath, and sleep with both eyes closed for a change.”

“A bath and a meal sound like heaven, but I am not sure we should spend the night.” She looked around. “What if—”

“You’re right. We should press on.” He smiled at her and she suddenly frowned, going stiff and blank. “What?” He looked around for danger.

“Nothing—’tis nothing.” She seemed to swallow painfully. Perhaps she was taking ill.

“Perhaps one night indoors would be wise,” he said. “They have two inns—which one do you think is cheaper?”

***

Lothair was giving Katia that look again, that curious look. She hated that look.

The past week had been hell in more ways than she could count—the grueling pace of the riding, the terrible hunger, the weather, which was scorching hot one hour and then freezing the next. And then there were Lothair’s beautiful eyes, always looking in her direction, examining her soiled garments and dirty hair. Her exhaustion and aching back were nothing compared to the painful scrutiny of his gaze.

“What?” she snapped at him.

“Is there a tongue you don’t speak?” He grinned at her again.

“Even you must understand Polack some. It is so similar to the German tongue.”

“Yes, I understand them some, but you are from northern Sweden. You shouldn’t understand them at all.” He smiled at her teasingly.
Cruel, insufferable man.
Had he no pity on her at all?

Unrequited love was the very worst disorder in the world, she decided, much worse than a toothache or pox, or the plague—at least with those a person had a good chance of eventually dying and being put out of her misery.

Lothair just stood there, staring and smiling his wretchedly handsome smile, waiting for her to say something. She had nearly forgotten what they were talking about.

“Right, talking, languages . . . well, I am not originally from Sweden but from Finland, remember? Lots of traders come to port, lots of opportunity to hear different tongues. My grandmother taught me most of them.”

“Impressive.” He took her elbow and escorted her in the direction of the inn, still grinning. Katia cared not for his smiles. Lothair had made it very clear to her that he was not interested in her as a girl—a woman—in her the way a man traveling alone in the wilderness with a woman might usually be interested. He kept his distance and never once tried to touch her, other than shoving her on her horse, or yanking her by the arm in the direction he wished her to go. He must still hate her for ruining his adventure and separating him from his friends, not to mention nearly getting him killed several times.

At the inn, Lothair spoke for them, telling the innkeeper that he was traveling with his wife to his new military posting in Bohemia. He then paid extra for a private bath to be sent to their room. His cover story was a painful reminder that he would never truly consider her a wife. He was never going to take a wife, he had said.

Fine by her.
Katia had no intention of ever taking a husband.

Still, she wished she had the power to tempt him, to have that special hold on a man that some wives clearly possessed. Her mother entranced her father, and her grandfather still gazed at her grandmother like a groom on his wedding night, but Katia had no knowledge of how to go about gaining a man’s notice. Sure, she knew how to smile, wink, and get her way, but not how to earn a man’s enduring love.

No. She had no interest in gaining a
man’s
notice; she only wanted to know how to gain Lothair’s notice. How to become so irresistible that he couldn’t help but kiss her.

The last time they’d kissed—the only time she had ever kissed a man—she had thrown herself into his arms. She cringed inside thinking about it, but yet wondered if the shame was not worth the amazing feel of his lips—if she should not just fling herself at him again.

As they climbed the inn’s cramped stairwell, Katia reminded herself repeatedly that it was improper to stare at Lothair’s backside.

The innkeeper’s wife held a door open for them, giving them both a scornful look of disapproval. Clearly, she did not believe them to be a properly wed couple.

The small chamber boasted two windows with their shutters wide open, spilling ample light and a lovely fresh breeze into the sparse room. The gray linens on the bed appeared mostly clean, although anything would have been agreeable after sleeping for days on a rocky mountain ledge.

Katia scanned the chamber with growing nervousness, realizing for the first time that they were alone together inside, behind a closed door. “Why don’t you have the first bath and I will go order us something to eat,” she said.

“Don’t be daft,” he answered. “You’re the girl. You will bathe first.”

Before she had a chance to protest, a knock came at the door. Two scrawny servant boys entered, carrying a shallow wooden tub. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched them bring in bucket after bucket of clean hot water. Katia had never wanted a bath so much in her entire life. After two weeks on horseback during which she had washed nothing more than a few inches of skin in a cool creek, she would gladly give her right arm for an hour-long soak in steaming water.

The servants finished, leaving several extra buckets of rinsing water. The chamber door closed and she ogled the bath. Lothair cleared his throat, waking her from her daze. He had peeled off his leather vest and now stood in his under-tunic, which gapped open at the collar, exposing a rare peek at his well-muscled chest.

“I would give you your privacy,” he said, sounding a bit awkward, “but then the innkeeper may not believe we are wed. I mean, if I were to be downstairs while you were up here . . .” Lothair shrugged. He pushed a tall wooden chest away from the wall, creating a privacy screen of sorts between him and the tub. The chamber was warm, and had grown warmer still with the steaming water.

Behind the chest, she could hear Lothair pull off his tunic and sit down on the floor, presumably stretching out his long legs. Now all she could see of him was his boots, which he had crossed at the ankles.

Katia stood quietly for a few moments, marveling at the glorious steaming bath that awaited her, while a half-naked handsome man sat on the floor, just a few feet away. He was being a gentleman, but it gave her a tingly feeling to think of removing her clothing while in the same room with him.

Don’t be such a ninny
, she scolded herself.

This was Lothair, who thought of her as no more desirable than her horse. She stripped, stepped into the water, ducked under the surface, and held her breath for a few moments. It was heavenly. She bobbed her head out and snatched up the soap, scrubbing her scalp, body, and especially her toes. She grabbed up one of the rinsing buckets, dumped it over her head, climbed out of the bath, and wrapped a drying cloth around her body.

“Done,” she announced, nearly out of breath from her rushed efforts.

“Already?” He sounded groggy, as if she had woken him from a nap. His feet uncrossed at the ankles.

“Yes, the water is still warm. I will get dressed behind the wardrobe if you would like to switch places,” she said as he peeked around the corner. He was still sitting on the floor. His hair was messy, sticking up in the back, and he couldn’t have looked more adorable if he’d tried.

She collected an armload of new clean clothes and quickly moved behind the furniture so he could have his privacy.

Water splashed and sloshed about. She reminded herself several times that it would be rude of her to spy. She would not think to peek at his bare, muscular chest as he lathered it with soft soap. That would be wrong . . . yes, definitely wrong. Anyway, it would only add fuel to the futile, hopeless, lustful feelings that she had already developed for him, which he clearly did not have toward her.

She dressed in a thick linen under-tunic and soft wool stockings. As she combed out her wet, tangled hair, she recognized the unmistakable sound of water trickling. He must be rinsing. The scent of pine soap filled the air. She dropped her small bone comb. Bending over to pick it up, her eyes disobeyed a direct order and looked around the wardrobe.

Lothair was standing naked with his back to her. He had a thickness to him that made her feel rather small and oddly warm. She crossed her arms over her body, uncomfortable with the tight, tingling sensation in her chest. His broad, well-defined muscles glistened as the soapy water ran down his back and over his . . . oh . . . that was the nicest backside a person could possibly have.

“Would you pass me that drying cloth?” Lothair asked. His head turned as he looked back over his shoulder and their eyes locked for a moment. She recoiled and smacked her head into the wardrobe, pinching her eyes shut. Her heart was in her throat and she couldn’t speak, let alone breathe. Her blood pumped so fast that she could feel her ears burning with the throbbing pressure. She managed a few cleansing breaths and her hearing returned, and with it the sound of Lothair’s laughter. Her irritation at his mirth was enough to push down her raging embarrassment.