Rowen never saw or heard those who attacked her. A sharp pain on the back of her head preceded a gag and ropes around her hands and feet. Rowen watched as strangers fell on her lamb and her king.
The princess . . . Maple; Rowen must remember that she chose to be called Maple of the Highest Hill . . . Maple was dragged away from the king and abducted, but it was what they'd done to the king that had made Rowen close her eyes, blocking out the sight of it.
They'd surrounded Bryn Ma'ar with clubs and staves, had beat him until he wasn't moving at all. At first, he'd tried to defend himself, but without a weapon or armor of any kind, Bryn Ma'ar was helpless to stop the mob of people that surrounded him. They were dressed and spoke as valley-dwellers, their speech filled with hate and anger.
After he'd gone down, the king had curled himself into a ball with his arms over his head to protect it, but eventually, the tight ball had relaxed and his arms fell away from his head. Still the blows rained down on him, booted feet kicked at his head and body until Rowen couldn't bear to watch her king be murdered so.
Eventually, the noise died away with the tramp of booted feet. Rowen was cold. She knew she'd have to do something or risk freezing to death, but with her hands and feet tied, whatever she found to do would have to be soon. Her dagger was out of reach with her hands tied. Desperate for some means of freeing herself, Rowen sat up and looked around.
The only sharp edge within sight was sheathed at the king's waist. Rowen scooted herself through the snow, ignoring the dull numbness that was spreading through her limbs, ignoring the sting of cold as the snow worked its way up under her jacket and shirt. There was a knife, perhaps, but Rowen's fingers were too numb to use it. It took a very long time before she was free.
The king was breathing, she discovered, but only just and he was as cold as she was. Both of them were in danger of freezing to death. Rowen weighed her options. She could walk back to the fortress, but in the time it took her to get there and get help, the king would freeze to death. Rowen wouldn't leave her king.
He'd risked his life to rescue her and Cade once. It was time to repay the favor. She laid beside him and worked their coats so that the garments overlapped each other around both Bryn Ma'ar and Rowen. She hoped that they'd be missed soon. Surely the tracks in the snow would tell the tale that her tongue would be too cold to utter.
It was late afternoon before Rowen heard any indication that someone was within earshot. "Over here," she tried to yell, but was too cold to do more than murmur the words through the chattering of her teeth. Finally, she summoned all of her strength and timed the shudders that made her teeth chatter. "Help!" she managed.
To Rowen's relief, someone answered. "Hey, over here!" It was Bowen's voice, which was shortly followed with, "Ma! What happened?"
"Attacked," she managed when her son bent over her and the king's prone bodies. "Lamb . . . gone . . . King bad." And that was all she could do.
"Dad, Wynd, over here!" Bowen yelled again. "We need help!" Soon, Cade was lifting his wife while Wynd, Bowen, Yestyn and Gwyn helped carry the king toward the fortress. Cade followed the others to the fortress and into the King's Hall, where the king was laid on a couch that was pushed as close to the fire as safely possible.
Rowen huddled in Yestyn's favorite chair beside the fire, gratefully wrapped in a warm blanket while her husband inspected her hands, face and feet for frostbite. Thankfully, both the king and Rowen suffered from only mild frostbite in their feet. The king, however, was gravely injured from the beating he'd suffered.
Cradled in her husband's arms and soaking in the heat of his body, Rowen told her tale as soon as the king had been tended, watched the expressions on the faces of her audience range from shock and disbelief to horror and outrage.
Bowen's gaze moved from face to face after his mother had finished. "How do we get her back?" he asked when his mother had fallen silent.
"We fight." Cade's voice was flat, his expression hard. "She chose her own name. Maple is an elder of our tribe and the valley-dwellers had no right to take her." The words came out from between gritted teeth, telling Rowen that her husband was only restraining himself from going after them immediately because he was needed where he was, for the time being. He'd barely taken a pause before Wynd spoke up.
"Attacking our king is an act of war. We'll get the princess, Maple, back- but we're going to do it right. Yestyn, I'll be back in two days."
"Where are you going?" Rowen could hardly believe her ears. Surely Wynd could control his itching feet long enough to see to the safety of their king, let alone the girl he professed to care about?
Wynd's expression was just as hard as Cade's. "To tell the clans to prepare for war. See to the king, and I'll be back. Bowen, come with me."
Rowen hid a smile at the expression on her eldest son's face. "Sir?" Bowen's voice betrayed his shock.
"I need a man to go with me. We'll be traveling in the dark and I need someone to fight at my back if we get into trouble," Wynd explained as he made ready to leave. To Bowen, such a thing was monumental; that at his age, he would be counted man enough and trusted to go back-to-back with an experienced warrior like Wynd. Bowen followed with an expression of grim eagerness.
Yestyn waited until Wynd had left with Bowen. "Either way, we need to wait until the weather clears up more."
The king's eyes fluttered open while his father was speaking. "Wait until the weather clears for what?" Bryn Ma'ar asked, sounding confused.
"Don't you remember?" asked Gwyn with concern. He shook his head a little. "What's the last thing you remember?" asked his step-mother. Rowen fought the urge to tell him everything. Gwyn had been treating head wounds since before Rowen had been born. Best to let the high elder work in her own way.
The king closed his eyes and was silent for a moment, obviously working to answer the question. "I found the maple tree and the icicle. It's the perfect name for Princess Broderick, so I . . . Maple!" He tried to sit up, but Gwyn restrained him.
"She's gone, Son," Gwyn murmured. "We'll get her back, but not until we're ready. Lay still; you took quite a beating."
Rowen couldn't help but speak up then. "How are you, Bryn?" Tears blurred her eyes and choked her voice. It was embarrassing, but Rowen couldn't keep the words back. "I heard bones breaking when they . . ."
"I have broken ribs and I think my arm is broken," the king replied in a quiet voice. "My head hurts, but not as badly as if my skull were cracked. I'm seeing two of everything again though, Ma."
"You will," agreed Gwyn mildly. "It'll take longer to heal, too. You woke up quickly though and the cold helped. I think you'll recover, but it will take time."
"How did the cold help?" asked Rowen in disbelief. "We almost froze to death!"
"It kept the swelling down in his head," Gwyn explained. "You kept him alive, Rowen, but if it had been summer, this would be a lot worse, even though you would have gotten help so much more quickly."
"Rowen?" The single word from her king asked for explanation, so Rowen found herself telling the tale again for his benefit. When she'd finished, his expression was so agonized that she was tempted to apologize again. "It was my fault," he whispered. "I never go out without sword and armor, but I was so excited . . ."
"It was not your fault," Cade cut in, still sounding as if he were barely controlling his rage. "There was no reason you should have needed armor and a sword so close to home, under a bright, noon-day sun. We will get your bride back, Bryn; the same way we got mine back. And just as you told me when you found me, you rest now. Heal and get strong. You can't get her back until you can hold a sword with confidence."
"You're a good friend, Cade."
"You're a good king, Bryn. I'm taking my bride home now so you both can rest." With that, and even though Rowen was fully prepared to walk home, Cade swooped her up in his arms and stalked from the room. On his way through the Greatest Hall, Cade pressed a kiss to Rowen's temple. "I lost you once and it almost killed me. I don't think I could survive losing you again."
"You think I feel differently?" Rowen challenged him, twisting her head to press a kiss against his neck. "Still though, it has its advantages."
"Yeah? Like what?" He didn't sound as if he believed her.
"I get to be in your arms like this."
He grinned and kissed her before opening the door to leave the fortress. "You think our lamb will feel this way with the kid?"
"Bryn?" Rowen had to shake her head. He was the king, but to Cade, he'd always be 'the kid'. Cade's eyes twinkled, but he didn't answer her. "Judging from the way she kissed him, I'd say so."
"And you think he'll feel the same?"
"He kissed her, first."
"Did he then?"
Rowen heaved a theatric sigh. "Cade," she warned him.
He only winked at her unrepentantly. "She's my girl, same as Caron, same as Olwyn and Bronwyn. You know I have to do what any dad would do." All the same, he paused and then promised, "but it'll wait until he's better."
"It had better," she warned, knowing her warning had no teeth, knowing he knew that too.