The Sapphire Broach

Chapter 5 (rough draft)

Ivy watched the man lead his horse away. His black tunic made him nearly invisible in the darkness. Would he truly come back for her? He had been a man of his word thus far, so she decided to trust him. He had nearly vanished when she realized he had never said his name.

"What is your name?" she whisper-yelled.

He did not turn back, but called over his shoulder, "Kenric. I thought you might never ask."

Then he disappeared.

Ivy stared after him. Kenric. She had not even thanked him. So much had happened that she hadn't had time to sort through it all. Her concern for the broach had outweighed everything else. She had not even been kind when he asked her name. Instead she had fretted, knowing she couldn't tell him her full name.

She sighed. He had been angry and annoyed at her since the moment she met him, yet something in his deep brown eyes said their might be more to him than that, something kinder beneath his hard surface—something that had caused him to jump in the lake after her and stand before the soldiers to protect her. She shook her head. Such thoughts were a waste of time. He had helped her, yes, but was more than anxious to be rid of her. In the morning he would probably parade off on his horse and leave her to . . . what? What was next for her?

She had fled Aunt Maurie's with little thought beyond avoiding capture. She knew what needed to be done—and had known since her parent's deaths—but was loath to do it. The secrets in King Rymond's past had to be exposed and she, as the rightful heir of Berryann, had to restore her family to the throne. The broach proved it all.

Her plan had always been to take the broach to the palace when she came of age and claim her right to the throne. That had been the previous year when she turned eighteen. She hadn't gone. Surely Rymond expected her to come in her eighteenth year, she had reasoned, and would be prepared for her. She wanted to arrive on her own time when he would not suspect. So she had let the year pass. Now she was nineteen and had undoubtedly waited too long. Rymond had found her hiding place and had sought to stop her before she could dethrone him.

She could wait no longer, though she could think of many things she would rather do. Indeed. Perhaps she could live in hiding for another year or so and face Rymond later . . .

A commotion off in the darkness shook her from her thoughts.

"I hear them!" a soldier's voice rang out.

A horse whinnied. Boots pounded across the dirt. A shout.

Ivy knew it was time. She pushed bare branches out of her way and crept toward the light of the campfire. The clearing was empty except for her and Kenric's belongings. She looked cautiously about, then stepped into the fire's warm glow. A thick branch held her dress. When she reached it, she stuck her hand in the pocket sewn into the skirt. Her hand closed over the broach and she nearly fainted with relief. It was safe!

She yanked on the dress and pulled it from the tree, but the ribbon that tied the back caught. The sound of the soldiers tromping feet drew near. They were returning. She pulled again, but could not free her dress.

"Come on!" She worked her fingers through the snagged strings. Finally, the dress came free. She bundled it up in her arms, grabbed her boots that dried near the fire, then looked around at Kenric's belongings. A pack, a bedroll, and two blankets lay strewn about. She grabbed the pack and threw it over her shoulder, than ran for the bedroll and blankets.

The sound of footsteps intensified, then stopped.

"Ah, the lady has returned."

Ivy looked up and saw the two soldiers enter the camp. A nasty smirk twisted the first's bearded features.

"Back for your clothing, I see," he said with a chuckle, then he stepped toward her.

Ivy backed up.

"Where are you going, Sweetheart?" the second soldier joined the first.

Without another thought of the abandoned bedding, she turned and ran for the forest. She heard a rustling of leaves in front of her and prayed it was Kenric. It wasn't. A third soldier emerged right in her path. She screamed and dropped to the ground to avoid slamming into his burly chest. He reached for her, but she rolled away, jumped to her feet, and ran for the small space left open between the encircling soldiers.

All three men lunged at her. Their fingers narrowly missed the pack slung over her back. She jumped over a log barely visible without the light of the fire, and scrambled through tangling branches and brambles.

She heard the clopping of horse hoofs and looked around for Kenric. The mare appeared and worked its way between Ivy and the soldiers. Kenric guided the horse right up behind Ivy, then slowed. He reached for her hand and pulled her up behind him on the horse.

The soldiers cried out when the horse pulled away. Kenric steered her toward an open path, then dug his heels in. The mare sped off and left the soldiers far behind.

Ivy breathed a sigh of relief. She had the broach, and they were racing away from danger.

"There," Kenric said. "You have your dress. I hope you are pleased."

Was he angry with her? He had no understanding of what her dress contained . . . and she had tried to get his things, too. "I retrieved your pack."

"Yes, but not my bedding, I see."

"I did what I could. The soldiers came back. You did not distract them long enough."

"Oh, so this is all my fault."

"No, but . . ."

"You have made an absolute mess of my peaceful night."

He did not slow the mare, and the icy wind set Ivy's teeth to chattering.

His words were not fair. She hadn't meant to interfere with his evening. She had not planned to have soldiers chase her the entire afternoon. She hadn't asked him to fetch her from the lake. And she would have been hidden from the soldiers if he had not lit a fire. She had nearly died, her body ached from bruises and exhaustion, and she couldn't stop her shivering, yet he had the audacity to be angry with her?

"We would not have been in this mess," she said, "if you hadn't lit a fire. Why on earth would you have done that when there were soldiers chasing me?"

"Why did you not tell me there were soldiers chasing you? I would never have lit a fire!"

"Forgive me for not sharing my life story before I passed out after nearly drowning!" She could hardly speak between the chattering of her teeth and her clenched jaw. She was so cold! The dress she held in a bundle was still damp, which added to her chill, and her underdress did nothing to keep out the cold.

She groaned and pulled herself closer to Kenric to use his body heat.

"We will stop soon." He must have sensed that she could bear no more.

Ivy closed her eyes and rested her head against his back, trying to absorb more of his warmth.

True to his word, Kenric soon slowed the mare and led her off the main path. After several more minutes, he pulled on the reins, stopped the horse, and dismounted. He helped Ivy down, took the pack from her, and rummaged through it. He pulled out a cloak and wrapped it around her.

"Find somewhere to sleep. I will not light a fire."

Ivy dropped where she stood, pulled the cloak tight around her, and tried to sleep. Her shivering continued, and she wished they could have lit a fire. When she had nearly drifted off, she felt someone place a blanket on top of her, and her trembling finally ceased.