The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(58)

She shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking about wolves.”

“How did Fronicka know who you were and all the details of your secret, that you were a servant and you were taking Lady Dorothea’s place?”

She stared down at the floor. “The only person who knew everything and could have told her was Irma. It must have been Irma. She was willing to give up everything for Friedrich.”

Yes, that made sense.

“Lady Fronicka must have discovered the truth about Dorothea’s pregnancy from one of the guards who escorted Irma and me to Thornbeck. I’m not sure. But the other things she must have found out from Irma.”

There she sat, calm and quiet after nearly being killed twice in the last few days. Any other woman would still be sobbing hysterically, or at least still in shock after facing down a pack of wolves, especially with the serious injury to her ankle.

“What will you do with me?”

He rubbed his shoulder, but that only made it hurt worse.

“I know I have no right to ask, but please . . . do not be angry with Lord Plimmwald for sending me in his daughter’s place. If he loses your protection, the people will have no one to defend them from their enemies.”

The sincerity and pleading in her expression made him pity her, but he had to harden his heart. “Word will certainly get back to Lord Plimmwald. You may lose your dowry.” The ugly sound of sarcasm was in his voice. Jealousy and pain warred inside him, as if trying to tear his heart in two.

She lowered her head even more. She was silent for several long moments. “I am sorry for causing you pain. And I’m sorry you were hurt, saving me from the wolves.”

He snorted. As if that pain was worse than finding out she had deceived him. No, the wolves had nothing to do with this pain in his heart, this pain that had kept him awake all night.

“But please.” Her voice quavered. “Please forgive me. And please do not allow Geitbart to destroy Plimmwald. Please promise me you will save Plimmwald.”

His heart was thumping and his arms were suddenly aching to hold her again.

He turned and fled from the room, nearly falling when his lame ankle gave way. Where was his walking stick?

He found two guards outside the door. To the first one, he said, “Carry this woman to the servants’ quarters and have Frau Schwitzer find her a bed with the kitchen servants.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And you, bring my cane. It may be in my saddle or at the stable,” he said to the second guard.

Reinhart stood leaning against the wall as the guard carried her away.

The second guard brought him his cane. He went to his desk in the library, but feeling restless, he wandered out to the balcony. Maybe the cold air and whiteness of the snow would clear his head. But that was where he had first held Dorothea—Avelina—in his arms, right after he’d seen her dangling from the balcony, just a moment from death.

Fronicka had tried to murder Avelina.

According to Avelina, Geitbart had threatened to attack and take over Plimmwald. Perhaps he intended to take over Thornbeck as well. After all, the present duke’s father had lost both Plimmwald and Thornbeck when he married a woman the king did not approve of. What would he do when Reinhart banished his daughter from Thornbeck? Geitbart might prove to be just as murderous as his daughter.



Avelina lay in the narrow servant’s bed trying to process all she had experienced in the last day. She was alone in a large room full of similar beds. All the other servants were working.

She should be afraid. She should try to figure out how to get out of the mess she was now in. But she was so exhausted, the thin straw mattress actually felt good, and soon she fell asleep.

When she awoke she hopped to the window on one foot. It had stopped snowing and the sun was brightly shining in the noon sky.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

Magdalen entered and shut the door behind her. “One of the servants told me you were attacked by wolves. Can this be true?”

Avelina sighed. “I will tell you all about it, but you should not be here. Your mother certainly would not approve of you visiting the servants’ quarters.” Even Avelina wasn’t used to sleeping in a place like this. She was a lady’s maidservant, not a kitchen servant.

Magdalen huffed. “I can’t believe Lord Thornbeck sent you down here. He could have at least allowed you to stay in your own room until you leave.” For only the second time since she’d met her, Magdalen looked angry.

Avelina started hopping back toward the bed.

“You’re hurt! Is it bad? You must tell me immediately what has happened to you this morning.”

Avelina told her all about Irma’s betrayal, about the wolves’ attack, and Lord Thornbeck saving her. She showed her the bandaged ankle. “It doesn’t hurt as much now. I can still walk on it if I have to.”

Magdalen threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. “Thank You, God,” she breathed, her voice fervent, “for protecting Avelina, and for Lord Thornbeck.”

Tears sprung to Avelina’s eyes at her friend’s sincere concern for her safety.

Suddenly another knock came at the door. A maidservant was there with a piece of paper. “From Lord Thornbeck for Avelina.”

Magdalen took the note and brought it to Avelina, who unfolded it.