The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(76)

“Do you dare propose to bargain with your king?” He motioned to one of his guards standing just behind him. “Give me your sword.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” The man quickly took the keys and unlocked the doors.

“Open these doors, every last one of them, for I know of no prisoners of mine down here. Treachery is afoot here.”

Out came Westley’s father, Frederick, and Muriel, who fell into Frederick’s arms.

“Muriel?” the king asked in a shocked whisper. “What has Shiveley done to you?”

She lifted her head from Frederick’s shoulder and faced the king. “Lord Shiveley is mad. He planned to force Evangeline to marry him by threatening to kill me if she did not comply. I believe he thought if he was married to the granddaughter of a king, the people would be more likely to accept him as their king. It was his ultimate goal . . . to be king in your place.”

“And I suppose he has sent away my guards?”

Frederick spoke up. “Most of them, Your Majesty, on the pretense of searching for Evangeline, and the others he imprisoned in the dungeon.”

“Come. I shall confront Shiveley and we shall fight, if necessary. Who’s with me?”

“We’re willing to die for you,” they said.

Westley and the others surged up the steps toward the chapel. God, keep Evangeline safe, and make us victorious.



Evangeline studied the one doorway leading out of the small chapel, the position of Shiveley and his guards, and the priest, who stood two feet in front of her with his eyelids so low over his eyes he almost looked as if he was asleep standing up.

Lord Shiveley kept glancing about the room, mostly at the entrance to the chapel behind them. He fidgeted, shuffling his feet, and avoided looking at Evangeline.

Why was the king taking so long? If only he would never come. What was happening with Westley? Was he safe somewhere?

But instead of feeling anxious, fidgety, or searching the back of the chapel as Lord Shiveley was doing, Evangeline stood calmly, almost numb. God, You will do something. I believe in You. I believe in Your lovingkindness. After all, God had allowed her to escape long enough to learn how to defend herself and fight off an attacker. Surely God would allow her to use that knowledge to save herself from Lord Shiveley.

He suddenly faced the priest and grabbed Evangeline’s arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. “Start the vows,” he growled. “We can’t stand here all night. My guards can be witnesses.”

The priest nodded. He opened the book in his hand and seemed about to speak when a rustling sound came from the back of the room. Evangeline turned. King Richard was walking toward them.

Would her cousin stop the wedding? She stared at him, her heart in her throat.

Richard reached them. But he only looked at the priest and nodded.

The priest read the vows, his voice droning on. Her feeling of numbness and calm left her, and she cast about in her mind for an excuse to stop the ceremony. It was going so swiftly. The priest said, “If there be anyone present who knows of any impediment or any reason this marriage would not be lawful, let him speak now.”

“I have a question.” Richard’s voice was even, betraying no emotion.

Shiveley glared at him, his face turning red.

“I would like to know what happened to your first wife, Lord Shiveley.”

“She died.”

“Indeed. And how did you say she died?”

Evangeline’s heart beat fast. What was the king doing? Would he save her?

Shiveley’s jaw hardened and twitched. “She fell down some stairs at our home.”

“I see. And how did my fair cousin get that swollen, bloody lip and the red mark on her face? Did she fall down some steps too?”

Air rushed into her lungs.

“I do not know what she did before she came to Berkhamsted.” Shiveley licked his thick lips. “She says she was in Glynval. She may have—”

“Evangeline?” The king cut him off. “What happened to your face?”

Shiveley pinched her arm.

“Ow! This mans truck me.”Evangeline stomped on Shiveley’s foot.

He grunted and loosened his hold on her arm just enough that she was able to snatch her arm away and run. Shiveley’s guard began to scramble to block the doorway leading out, but before she had gotten very far, one of the guards sidestepped in front of her and she ran into his broad chest. He seized her arms and held them behind her with one hand while holding her firmly to his side with the other.

The earl’s guards snatched their swords from their scabbards, the blades ringing in the small room.

“What is this?” Richard said, ice in his voice. “Will your guards draw their swords on the king’s ward?”

Shiveley stood straight and tall, but his pointy beard trembled. “Have you decided not to allow your ward to marry me? I have been loyal to you.”

“Why do you want to marry Evangeline so badly?”

“Why? Because . . . she is beautiful.” Shiveley seemed to be waiting for the king to say something, but when he didn’t, the earl continued. “She-she is . . . your ward. I want to care for her. Any man would want to marry her.”

“And I thought you fell in love with her sweetness and spirit and beautiful singing.”

“Yes, of course. All of those things as well.”