Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(11)
Whatever the case, the forest wasn’t safe. Every time someone ventured inside to hunt, they never came back. Tales abounded of dangerous traps and torturous snares. But no one knew for certain what haunted the woodland.
With only the few fields and hills left around Romsdal for hunting, the earl had laid claim to those for his personal hunting grounds, leaving none for anyone else. In the absence of being able to hunt, the villeins had petitioned for fishing rights. But the earl had staunchly refused, claiming that additional fishing by the tenant farmers would drain the fjord and harm the fishing industry. As a result, the villeins had nowhere to go for food when their stores ran low.
Apparently, the earl had decided he was finished living in fear of the madman and was ready to gain control of the forest, because upon the spring thaw last month, he’d made the proclamation that the man who could bring him the jotunn’s head would be rewarded with freedom or a bag of silver.
“I’m strong,” Frans said as we headed up the short incline toward the castle gatehouse. “The muscles I’ve gained from working the forge will finally be put to good use.”
Still scrambling to keep up with him, I released a scoffing laugh. “Your muscles won’t be a match for the madman, and you’re a fool if you think so.”
Frans shook his head. “He’s likely old by now. And weak.”
“And I suppose that’s what the other three said before losing their lives.” In the early weeks of the earl’s challenge, many had clamored for the opportunity to try. But with each subsequent disappearance, the enthusiasm had faded. It had been over a sennight since anyone had offered to venture into the forest. Rumors were circulating that the earl was growing restless in waiting for volunteers, that he might soon begin forcing men to go in and hunt the madman.
“I’m also smart and quick.” Frans slowed his pace as we passed into the outer bailey. “And I’m good with a slingshot, am I not?”
Because the earl didn’t allow any of his subjects—whether paid domestics or bondmen and villeins—to carry swords or knives, some created makeshift weapons out of their tools. Others, like Frans, learned to use a slingshot so that they might have a means of defending themselves against foes.
“You know as well as I do that a slingshot will be worthless in the forest.”
Frans glanced around, then lowered his voice. “I won’t be unarmed.” Frans had crafted a dagger of his own in secret. But even with a knife, the danger was too great.
“You can’t take this responsibility upon yourself. It’s too risky.”
“If it frees the land of the menace and gives the populace back the forest, it will be worth the risk.”
“You are letting everything that happened with Gunnar goad you into it.”
Halfway across the bailey within sight of the forge, Frans halted. “Since losing my savings, I have already been contemplating doing it. Gunnar’s return is the nudge I needed.”
“You have no need. I shall wait for you to save again.”
As Gunnar strolled through the gatehouse, oozing his usual confidence and charm, Frans reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips, and placed a kiss upon my knuckles. “Perhaps I no longer wish to wait.”
With Frans’s kiss upon my skin, I should have experienced tingles, warmth, a fluttering, something. But I could conjure up nothing.
Frans was making a bold move to initiate physical contact so publicly, since he’d remained chaste thus far.
When he slid a sideways glance in Gunnar’s direction, I understood what he was doing. He was staking his claim upon me, letting Gunnar know he needed to stay away from now on.
“I beg you not to go into the forest, Frans.” I tightened my grip on him as he released the kiss and lowered our hands.
Underneath the mop of bushy brows, his serious eyes met mine.
“I haven’t begged you for many things,” I whispered. “But I beg you not to do this.”
He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated.
I stuck my hand in my pocket and touched the shell I kept there at all times, the shell my twin sister Maiken had given me the last day I’d seen her alive. The purple fragments had chipped away over the years, reminding me of the tenuous nature of life, how fragile it was, and how easily I could lose someone I cared about. “Please. I can’t lose you.”
He seemed to test the sincerity of my words before responding. “Very well.”
I expelled a tremulous breath.
“But I cannot guarantee that I won’t consider it in the future.”
I wanted to protest again, but I held it in and released him. Dusk was fast approaching, and I needed to return to the nursery with all haste. Nanna would get into trouble if I was late, and I couldn’t let that happen.
With a nod of farewell, I scurried toward the lower-level side entrance for servants. My best hope for protecting Frans was figuring out how to fall in love with him so that I could speak the words to him truthfully. I had to do so quickly before Gunnar left, while there was still time to accept his offer.
The problem was that I needed to avoid Gunnar so that I didn’t let any thoughts about him interfere with my mission.
Chapter
5
Gunnar
Mikaela didn’t love Frans.