The Secret Princess. Rachelle McCalla

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      “It matters to me.” He finished the first roll and wished for another flask of tea.

      “Why?” She’d stepped back against the dozing horse. Just enough moonlight filtered through the open eaves to illuminate her face as she looked up at him. “You’re a prince. I’m a slave.”

      “You saved my life. Let me buy your freedom.”

      The woman’s mouth fell open like a rose in full bloom. Soft, delicate. “It’s not possible.”

      “Why not? I have the means to pay any price.”

      The woman made a small noise, almost a whimper, and then turned toward the horse, hiding her face near its mane.

      “Please.” Luke reached for her but placed one hand on the horse instead, mindful that the woman might not welcome his touch. “You must tell me your name.”

      She seemed distraught. Luke’s throat felt rough, possibly from the dry roll but more likely from his confusion at the woman’s reaction. No doubt she’d be an expensive slave, with her skills at healing and her obvious ability to work hard for long hours, not to mention her beauty. Many a master would buy her for her looks alone, though they wouldn’t treat her nearly as well as she ought to be treated. At the thought, Luke became that much more determined to free her.

      “Your name?” He wanted to grasp her shoulders and turn her to face him, but he resisted. She wasn’t his. “Please?”

      She turned to him, tears glistening like tiny gems on her eyelashes. “Evelyn.”

      “Evelyn,” he repeated, smiling. It fit her so much better than Biddy. “Why have you chosen to help me?” He raised the last roll as evidence of her aid, then took a hungry bite.

      “You are from Lydia?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then you are a Christian?”

      “Yes.” His heart warmed as she smiled at his admission. “What do you know of Christians?”

      “I was raised in the faith in Charlemagne’s empire.”

      Luke instantly recalled the words Evelyn’s brother had spoken in the tower, which Luke still didn’t completely understand. He would never have expected to find Christians enslaved inside the fortress of Fier. From what Luke knew of Garren’s household, they all followed pagan beliefs. As a member of that household, he would have assumed she’d follow the same. But then, she’d spoken Frankish earlier. Perhaps he should have guessed the woman was more like him than his enemies. Perhaps she could be trusted. Perhaps. “How long have you lived in Illyria?”

      “Five years.”

      “What brought you here?”

      “My father. He brought us here after my mother’s death.”

      “Us?” Luke clarified, wondering how many more there were besides Evelyn and her brother.

      “My brother and me.”

      “The pale-haired boy I spoke with in the tower?”

      “Yes. Bertie.”

      “Your mother was Frankish, and your father is Illyrian?”

      “My father was half Frankish and half Illyrian.”

      “Was?”

      “He died last fall.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      She nodded, her expression thoughtful, but remained silent.

      “And your grandfather?”

      “Would be furious if he knew I was speaking with you.” Her eyes met his with a spark of challenge.

      “Is he a slave, as well?”

      Evelyn’s mouth fell open again. Luke studied it, marveling at her fine matched teeth, a far healthier set than he’d expected to find in the mouth of an Illyrian slave girl. But then, nothing about her was what he’d expected, and everything he learned about her only intrigued him further.

      She didn’t answer his question, but Luke felt the urgency of their situation and realized with certainty what he needed to do. He’d promised her brother he’d help them. Why should he return later when he could fulfill his pledge that very night?

      “I can take you with me.”

      She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes wide.

      “I’m leaving for Lydia tonight. You would be safe there with other Christians.”

      Evelyn shook her head, but the way she glanced at him, he guessed she found the offer tempting. Surely she didn’t want to remain a slave.

      Luke couldn’t let her refuse his offer. “My sister-in-law speaks Frankish. She is a daughter of Charlemagne himself. You might enjoy her company.”

      Evelyn shook her head more fervently. “I cannot leave—”

      “You would not be a slave there.”

      “No.” Evelyn stepped to the side as though to dart away and escape from his words.

      Luke caught her arm. “Please come with me.”

      She met his eyes. “My brother—”

      “I intend to bring him, too, of course. He asked me to help him return to his homeland. Once we reach Lydia, we can arrange further travel plans.”

      A look of yearning passed across her face. He saw it clearly in the moonlight. His heart twisted at the sight.

      “Please, Evelyn. You saved my life. Let me restore yours. You deserve more than a life of slavery.”

      Evelyn closed her eyes. Luke watched as she fought some inner battle, tempted to take him up on his offer. What was holding her back?

      “You have lingered here too long,” Evelyn told him bluntly when she opened her eyes. “Leave now, before King Garren realizes you’ve escaped. If he finds you’re not in the tower, he’ll lock down the gates and you’ll never get out.”

      Luke felt the urgency in her words. She was right, of course. She’d been right about King Garren all along. “You’ll come with me?”

      “I cannot.”

      He still had hold of her left arm and grasped the other, as well, all but embracing her in the warmth of the stable. “I have searched for you these many months. Now that I’ve found you, I cannot leave you behind.”

      “My life is very complicated, too much so to explain now. You must leave quickly—alone.”

      Luke met her eyes and saw her determination. She wouldn’t be going with him, no matter how much yearning had crossed her face when he’d first made the offer. Knowing she’d been right about King Garren, he trusted she knew well the reasons of which she spoke. “Promise me I may see you again.” He thought quickly. “In the woods where I met you this morning. Meet me there again in one week’s time.”

      “I will try.”

      “If you’re not there, I will come here looking for you.”

      Panic crossed her face. “Don’t endanger yourself for me.”

      “You have endangered yourself for me.” Luke still held both her arms and had been drawing closer to her as they spoke. She seemed so frightened. Of him? Of getting caught?

      It didn’t matter. He ought to have left long minutes before.

      Evelyn pulled free of his arms. “This way.” She led him back through the side door of the stable, along the rear wall to the postern gate. “There’s a guard through the main gate, but we can sneak through the guard’s passage. When we get through to the other side, stay close to the wall until