Page 16 of May Queen: May Day

He looked down from the battlements, noticing someone sneaking around in the shadows. When he took a closer look, he realized who it was. The wind blew the woman’s hood from her head, and long, auburn tresses lifted in the breeze.

“Flora,” he said aloud, releasing a breath of exasperation. “Where is that troublesome wench sneaking off to now?” He stuck the dagger back into his belt and headed down from the battlements to finally get some answers.

* * *

Flora easily madeit to the stable without being seen. She hurriedly saddled her horse, wanting nothing more than to get back to the forest to find her father. With any luck, she’d be able to do it this time. Her hand went to her pocket, checking to make sure the necklace her mother had given her was still there. She didn’t understand what it was for, but her mother told her it was of vital importance that it got into the hands of her father. She pulled it out and looked at the gold emblem dangling from a silken black cord. Running her fingers over the piece, she curiously studied the shape of a sickle crossed with mistletoe. It was beautiful and mysterious at the same time.

“Going somewhere, my little vixen?” came a deep voice from behind her. She spun around to see Ricard leaning on the stall, chewing on a piece of straw. Her heart sank. She’d never be able to leave now. She quickly slipped the necklace back into her pocket.

“Lord Ricard, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was feeling better and thought I’d go for a little ride to clear my head.”

“I don’t think so.” He threw the piece of straw to the ground and his hand shot up into the air and he snapped his fingers. “Stanley,” he called to the stable boy. The boy’s head popped up from behind a stall and he rubbed his eyes.

“My lord?”

“Stop sleeping and get over her and unsaddle Lady Flora’s horse and tend to it right away.”

“Aye, my lord.” The boy brushed straw from his body, rushing over to do as commanded.

“Nay, I need the saddle in order to ride.”

“You’re not going anywhere until your wound heals,” Ricard commanded.

“My wound is not bad at all. The healer said so.”

“Speaking of the healer, where is she? I thought I told her to stay with you throughout the night.”

“She was . . . feeling ill and so she left.”

“She’ll be punished come morning. No one ignores my commands.”

“Nay, don’t punish her. Please,” she begged.

“Why not?”

“It was my idea she leave,” she said, trying to protect the woman. “I didn’t want her there and convinced her to go home to her family.”

“Then perhaps I should punish you instead.”

“Me? My lord, I am a noble and also your betrothed,” she reminded him.

“All the more reason.” He took her by the hand and dragged her out of the stable.

“Slow down! Where are we going?” She struggled against his grip.

“I can’t have you sneaking away every time I turn my back. If there is no healer to watch over you, then I’ll find someone else.”

“I don’t need to be watched over like a defiant child.”

“Then stop acting like one.” He pulled her into the keep. Everyone was eating in the great hall and she thought he’d take her there but, instead, he kept on walking.

“If you’re going to lock me in my chamber and post guards at my door, I am going to send a missive to my uncle. I will tell him you are treating me like a prisoner.”

“Humph,” he mumbled. “I sincerely doubt that your uncle would even care.”