Clash of Wills (5 page)

Wide-eyed, her mother stared. “What have you done to your hair!”

“It stays out of my face so much better like this.”

“You’re not fit to be seen in those clothes!” Tomas exclaimed. “People will take you for a commoner—and a boy!”

“Exactly my intention.” Samantha grabbed a fat golden biscuit and heaped on some strawberry preserves. “Don’t you imagine that traveling in disguise will better guarantee my safety? What say you, Prince Wills?”

“She has a point, Your Majesty.” He glanced down at his own simple attire. “As you see, I travel in the attire of a huntsman myself.”

Helena gulped. “But you said the roads are safe.”

“Even safer, if a traveler’s wealth and position are not obvious,” Samantha interjected.

“That’s so,” Wills said. “It’s folly to tempt highwaymen or opportunists.”

Samantha gave her parents her most winning smile. “You see? The prince and I are of one mind.” She took a huge bite of biscuit.

The king threw up his hands as he admitted defeat. Samantha exchanged a mischievous glance with the prince.
Perhaps he’s not such a bad sort after all.

The morning air was slightly crisp, but the sunlight warmed Samantha’s skin. A lighthearted smile crept onto her lips as the small party of four departed the castle grounds without fanfare. Clad in trousers, Samantha rode astride—pleased to avoid the loathsome sidesaddle that always made her feel off-balance.

“There could be no finer day to travel,” she said.

“And nothing better than fresh horses and an open road,” Wills replied.

Nan and Joe rode on ahead, conversing as old friends. Samantha gave Wills an amused glance. “I’m afraid their association may become a problem eventually.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ll lose your manservant or I my maid at some point, else they pine for one another the rest of their lives. Still, I would rather see Nan happy.”

“We’ll see.” He shrugged. “It’s a long journey yet, and the rigors of travel often bring out the worst in people. Their budding affection may wane.”

“My brother used to say that from fire comes either steel or salamanders, depending on which is more inconvenient.”

Wills chuckled. “I suppose so. Speaking of Julian, can you tell me now what you couldn’t say last night?”

“My father refuses to acknowledge that there is a difference between the dark arts and magic which is used for good. He has forbidden magic in his kingdom.”

“I’m afraid magical creatures don’t answer to monarchs. I’ve seen many of them during my journey through Paloran.”

“True. Nevertheless, my father won’t admit magic and nature are inextricable.”

“Your brother’s magical abilities led to an estrangement then?”

“Julian’s wizardry caused many arguments before he, um, died. Neither my father nor mother wish to relive that and so we don’t discuss him.”

“How did he die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Er…a fever. It’s been seven years now.”

A puzzled expression crossed Wills’ face. To avoid further questions, Samantha changed the subject. “That’s a beautiful sword at your side.”

“Thank you. I’m quite proud of it, actually. It’s a family heirloom passed down from father to son for as long as anyone can remember. We call it the Sword of Allinar.”

“Have you any brothers or sisters?”

“Alas no, and my parents express their desire for grandchildren at every turn.”

“You’ve disavowed marriage?”

“Most assuredly not.”

“No woman can please your eye?”

“I can’t agree with that either.”

“Then what?”

“I’m not ready to wed. Nor have I met a woman yet whom I could abide for more than a few hours.”

Samantha tossed her head.
Such arrogance can’t go unanswered!
“You should head north, Prince Wills. Perhaps the untouchable perfection of an ice maiden might fulfill your needs.”

Wills flinched at the insult. “I see my poor record where women are concerned remains unbroken.”

He spurred his horse forward to avoid further conversation. Stung, Samantha regretted her words. Although she didn’t wish to encourage the prince’s interest in her, neither did she want to create an enemy.
Perhaps we can be friends…for the short while we’ll be traveling together.

She pulled her mare level with his stallion. “Forgive me, Wills, I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I’ve only to gaze in a mirror to recognize my own hypocrisy. This year alone I’ve rebuffed eleven suitors.”

“Eleven? I’m impressed. You’ve disavowed matrimony?”

“Not exactly.”

“No man can tempt you?”

The vision of Nicholas appeared in her mind’s eye. “I wouldn’t say so.”

“Then what has prevented you from forging an alliance?”

“I don’t want…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to put her feelings into words. “I can’t be satisfied arranging flowers or embroidering cushions for the rest of my life. I want to travel and have adventures before I settle down. Unfortunately, I’ve not met a man acceptable to my father who could understand that.”

The prince gave Samantha a sidelong glance. “Perhaps you have, but you don’t know it yet.”

“Perhaps. The only man who ever treated me with respect, however, was my brother.”

“Filling a dead man’s shoes is a tall order.”

Samantha managed a weak laugh. “Then doubtless I’ll end an old maid.”

“It’s a tall order, not an impossible one. I wouldn’t give up hope just yet.”

Midday, the travelers paused alongside an accommodating brook to eat a packed lunch of cold chicken, bread and fruit. Samantha helped Nan lay out the picnic underneath a shady tree while Joe and Wills staked the horses at water’s edge. When the prince pulled off his tunic to splash water over his face and neck, the powerful muscles on his torso rippled underneath his skin. Samantha bit her lower lip.

“I think a man’s shape is very pleasing to the eye,” she murmured to Nan.

Joe shed his shirt too. As he ran a moistened kerchief over his face, neck and rounded belly, Nan giggled. “Some shapes are more pleasing than others.”

“Perhaps.” Nan’s sidelong glance made Samantha blush. “What?”

“Are you beginning to like the young prince?”

A toss of the head. “Although he has a fine figure, my comment was meant in the most general sense. There was nothing personal in my observation whatsoever.”

“Of course not.” Nan picked up an empty metal pitcher. “I’ll be back with water.”

She joined Joe at the brook, passing a shirtless Wills along the way. As the half-naked prince approached, an embarrassed Samantha busied herself with slicing a loaf of bread. Only after he donned his tunic did she look up—and burst into laughter at the sight of the daisies he’d stuck behind each ear. He removed the flowers and presented them to her with a flourish. “For you, Princess. They suit you much better.”

“Thank you, sir.” Pleased, she tucked the blooms into her leather belt.

The picnic was merry. After Joe had eaten nearly a whole chicken by himself, he produced his flute and played an effervescent melody that seemed to mimic the sound of the gurgling brook. As Nan poured the last of the water from the pitcher, Joe stuffed the flute in his back pocket. “I’ll fetch more water, luv.”

“Beware of mud demons.” Samantha cast a wary eye toward the water. “They run rampant in spring.”

As Joe ambled off, Wills polished a large, ripe plum on his shirt. “I haven’t seen a mud demon in years. I hate to admit it, but they petrify me.”

“Truthfully, I detest demons worse than anything, but I seem to attract them for some reason. Why do they frighten you so much?”

“A mud demon nipped my ankle when I turned nine and it was the worst day of my life. Although I turned the creature into a mud puddle with a shovel afterward, I still have the memory to remind me.”

Samantha’s reply was interrupted by the appearance of an unkempt man emerging from a nearby swath of trees. An odd, comma-shaped scar underneath one eye lent a sinister air to his visage. “Good day to you,” he said. “Could you spare something to eat for a hungry passerby?”

“Of course.” Wills beckoned to Joe. “My man will attend you when he returns with water.”

Two other men emerged from the woods, their drawn knives glinting in the sunlight. Nan screamed at the sight of the weapons. Samantha gasped and reached for the sling she’d tucked in her back pocket. Wills sprang to his feet, but his sword hung from his horse’s saddle—too far away to do any good. The situation grew even more dire when a fourth man stepped out from behind a tree with a bow and arrow. From Samantha’s vantage point, it seemed as if he was aiming straight at Wills.

“Hand over your valuables, quick-like,” ordered the first man.

A stone flew from Samantha’s sling, striking the archer between the eyes. With a moan, he crumpled to the ground, but his arrow was loosed. The broadhead sank into a tree, nicking Wills’ sleeve as it passed. The three other men closed in, and the prince scrambled for his sword. Joe clocked one bandit with the metal pitcher, and Samantha took out the scarred man with another well-placed stone. After a quick bit of swordplay, the prince disarmed the last scoundrel. The fellow ran for the woods, but Samantha knocked him unconscious with a hard green apricot to the back of his head. He landed face first in a patch of thistles.

The danger over, Joe, Nan, and Wills turned to gape at Samantha. She shrugged and coiled her sling. “That was too easy.”

“Where’d you learn to aim like that, Your Highness?” Joe asked.

“In between dancing lessons and playing the pianoforte, I suppose.” She grinned to let him know she was jesting.

“Nevertheless, it was reckless. You could’ve gotten me killed.” Wills examined the rip in his sleeve.

Samantha’s smile faded. “What? I saved your life!”

“Ha! I was
lucky
,” Wills exclaimed, his arms akimbo. “It could very easily have gone another way.”

“Yes, and we could’ve died if we’d relied on you! You left your weapon out of reach.”

“Pish posh,” Nan said. “As it is, we’re all perfectly fine.”

“We should leave before these highwaymen wake up,” Joe said.

While Wills recovered the archer’s bow and snapped it in half, Nan packed up the remains of the picnic. Samantha tugged the boots off the nearest bandit and hurled them into the brook.

The prince looked at her, askance. “What in the world are you doing?”

“If these men can’t walk, they can’t pursue us.”

Wills and Joe exchanged a glance.

“She’s a smart one,” Joe murmured.

Although Wills said nothing, he helped Samantha dispose of the bandits’ footwear. When he reached the scarred man, he nudged him with his toe.

“Does this fellow look familiar to you, Joe?”

Joe shrugged. “He’s an ugly mug. I can’t place him, I’m afraid.”

Clearly perplexed, Wills shook his head. “Nor can I.”

When the party of four mounted their horses and resumed their journey west, Samantha was still smarting from Wills’ accusation. Without a word to anyone, she rode ahead.