"My lord, I have some shocking news," Wilfred's men burst into his cottage on a lonely stretch of the shore.
They had moved out of that hovel into this picturesque cottage near the sea. Being on the run meant constantly changing their dwelling. Wilfred knew that the prince's men were on the lookout for him. He had his work cut out. He had to garner support for his cause as well as raise a force against Zorbia. Though the king of Valeria had agreed to help on his own terms, Wilfred was not too sure of him. One could hardly trust the Valerians. They were notorious for backstabbing.
"What is it, Pyke? Don't tell me that the prince's men are already here," Wilfred said impatiently.
"No, sire, we were successful in leading them off our scent. This is something much more serious, my lord."
"Out with it, man," Wilfred shouted, fast losing his remaining patience. It was already the bane of his life to listen to Elaine's harangue, day and night. It was enough to drive any sane man mad.
"Martin's daughter is with child, my lord. It is said that she's carrying the heir to the royal throne of Zorbia," the man blurted out in a breathless whisper, his tone confiding.
"The deuce she is!" Wilfred screamed. "It was enough that I had to contend with Prince Lucas, and now you tell me that his son is about to be born."
"It could be a daughter, my lord...." Pyke suggested and almost had his head bitten off for the effort.
"Like hell, it could be. I was afraid of this very eventuality and poisoned Martin's daughter, but it was my rotten luck that she survived," he sat down with his hand to his head.
This would never do, mused Wilfred. An heir did not fit in his scheme of things. His plan was based on doing away with Prince Lucas and grabbing the throne of Zorbia. An heir would continue to pose problems for him.
Scratching his chin and with a scowl on his face, he addressed Pyke and his companion, Smith.
"This means more work for both of you. It is imperative that we do away with the girl and her baby. Send some men after her," he commanded.
"Yes, sire, we'll do our best," Smith spoke up for the first time.
"Your best is not good enough, you idiots," Wilfred glared at his men. "I want definite news of her demise."
The men nodded, then touching their caps, left the way they had come, leaving Eddy Wilfred anxious at the turn of events.
"Here, lady, flowers for you," Jack said, handing Zena a bunch of white lilies.
Zena inhaled the pleasant scent of the blooms, then looked at him with a question.
"Where are the red ones today? I really like them."
"I think, Zena, that they are no longer appropriate," Jack said enigmatically.
"Why?" she asked him, running a finger over the waxy petals.
"Didn't you read the message inherent in those flowers, lady?" Jack asked her, a wistful note in his voice.
Zena colored, getting an idea of what he meant, but slowly, shook her head.
"Well, now that you are betrothed to His Majesty, it is no longer proper that I give you those red blooms," he said, picking up his knife and cutting the meat on his plate.
"You know Jack why I'm marrying him. It is no love match," Zena reminded him. It was a known fact that she had agreed to marry Luke for the sake of the child. She did not wish for others to make it into a romantic wedding.
"Whatever may be the reason, Zena, it is a fact that you are bespoken for. I may be a villager, but I'm not so much of a simpleton as to think that I ever stood a chance with you," Jack said with a heartfelt sigh.
How could Zena tell him that she would have gladly accepted his offer of marriage over that of Luke's any day, had it not been for the child? She knew that Jack loved her enough to raise her child as his own, but the fact remained that she was carrying an heir to the throne. Her destiny lay not here in Northdale, but in the royal palace in St. Helene.
"Get your things in order, Zena. We leave for St. Helene on the morrow," Jane told her the next day.
"Isn't it too early, Jane? We could leave a few days later, could we not?" she asked her, loathe to leave the village and its serenity.
"The sooner the wedding takes place, the better. A messenger has come from the city with word of the wedding. We must make haste. It doesn't pay to antagonize the prince."
Zena took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her hands shook with a fine tremor as she gathered the dishes to place in the stone basin to be washed.
"I....I'll.....pack my things," she whispered, her heart hammering against her rib cage.
Once in her room, Zena took out her portmanteau and started to put her things inside, while her mind whirred with questions troubling her like pesky flies.
She glanced out of the window at the open fields beyond. Were her days of freedom over? What would her life be as Luke's unwanted wife in the palace? She knew that Luke was only marrying her for the sake of the child. Would then, he expect her to submit to him in bed? The thought was enough to break her out in a cold sweat. She still remembered how cruel and punishing he could be when he wanted, and his hate for her father had not abated. What would he do to a wife he was forced to marry?
The more she thought about it, the grimmer the prospect seemed to her. She felt like a caged animal, with no avenue to escape from her fate.
The little party left for St. Helene the next day. Zena sat with Jane in the buggy, braced for the long and tiring journey ahead. Victor was traveling on his horse, riding beside the carriage. The day was not the best for being out on the highway. A pale sun peeked intermittently from behind dark clouds, and a strong wind blew through the trees.
They had hardly gone a short distance, reaching a desolate patch on the road when they sighted a few riders in the distance, brandishing cutlasses.
"Highwaymen," the coachman shouted, alerting his passengers.
Victor saw them at the same time. Since when had highwaymen attacked in broad daylight? It didn't look good to him. His thought went to his daughter and her unborn child. Were they in danger?