The Forgotten Princess (Forgotten Royals)

Chapter Three

In the early morning light, I was less sure of my plan. I clomped through the muddy grass, my wooden pattens squishing the wet ground. If not for those protective overshoes, my one pair of slippers would have been ruined. It had rained the previous night and a chill still hung in the air. But the sky was as clear as possible for a late December day.

"Saints, not even the men are outside fooling about with archery," my maid, Catrin, complained. "They're all celebrating Twelfth Night early."

I picked up my skirts, hoping to avoid getting splattered from the muddiest area. "Did you really want to come across King Henry's archers, anyway?"

Catrin made a face, either from walking across the mud or the prospect of seeing the king's men. A young maiden from Wales, I knew she would rather walk into Hades than be in this place. Not after she had lost her only family fighting against England. But she had no one else. I had fought my stepfather, who was willing to send her out on the road without as much as a groat to her name. Mama had sided with me and Catrin had stayed. Now she followed me, even though I could offer her nothing. Of course, she had nowhere else to go, but it still meant something to me. If someone had told me months ago that my most loyal friends would be a maid and a York, I would have laughed.

"You could have stayed in the castle," I said as she muttered under her breath.

"And leave you unchaperoned with these English men?" She sniffed as if I were about to meet up with common yeomen. "Do you want to ruin your reputation?"

"What reputation? I would have to be acknowledged to have one. It was that way at yesterday's feast. Hark! Who is that!" I waved at myself. "Some ghost whose name has been long forgotten."

She rolled her eyes. "Jesu, your life is such a Greek tragedy. I'm surrounded by the people who killed my father, but you don't hear me wailing about it."

I stopped. "I told you that you didn't have to come."

She turned away and her cloak's hood slipped down, revealing her striking raven hair that often caught the fancy of many young men. "I'm not going to abandon you with these vipers, my lady. Not my only friend in the world."

"Catrin..."

She whirled around with a mocking smile. "And I want to see this York."

I rolled my eyes and hastened toward the archery butts. "You've seen him."

"From a distance, and when he was a green lad." Her grin grew wider as she rushed after me. "I want to see the man who has your knees quivering."

I scowled. "My knees quiver for no man."

She maintained a knowing look as we reached our destination. One young man was shooting and I could tell that he had little skill. I winced when he botched an easy shot.

"Makes you glad he isn't on the battlefields of France, doesn't it?"

So caught up in watching the atrocious display, I hadn't noticed anyone approach. Before I could even turn around, I realized who had addressed me. Catrin lowered her head, showing careful respect for the stranger. She wouldn't have bowed for just any Englishman. His voice carried the strength of a lion, but had none of the iciness of the king.

The Prince of Wales.

"Your Grace!" My heart thundered as I bowed my head. "Forgive me. I did not know you were there."

I had no idea he was even there for Christmas. He never once showed up during the feast. Unprepared to face another Lancaster so early, I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands.

"No need to bow, my lady. I crept up on you," he said.

I straightened myself. The future king of England, Henry of Monmouth, known as Prince Hal to his friends. Tall with a muscular body, I could understand why maidens giggled about him. His long face took on a lively beauty when he smiled. A scar on his cheek marred his looks a bit, but also added to his warrior aura. Beside him stood an older gentleman and Richard, but they were shadows compared to his sun.