Missing Lily Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Note from the author

  MISSING LILY

  Annette K. Larsen

  For all the readers who took a chance on Just Ella.

  Thank you for giving me the encouragement I needed to tell Lylin’s story.

  Chapter 1

  I PULLED MY horse to an abrupt halt. A sound—or a lack of sound—made my limbs freeze up. My guard said nothing, but stopped and listened as well. What was it? My horse, Willow, pranced in agitation as I strove to keep my wits about me.

  The road curved just ahead, and beyond that, we would come out of the trees and cross the river before entering the village. I tugged my hood up over my head, seeking the anonymity it provided, and continued to listen while my eyes cast about for anything unusual. The dimming light was turning everything to shadow.

  A branch snapped.

  “Hear that?” Nathaniel whispered.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  He gestured for me to follow, and we moved our horses into the trees. There, Nathaniel dismounted with care. “Stay here, Milady. Keep the horses quiet.”

  “Don’t leave me,” I whispered frantically.

  He hesitated before gesturing for me to follow. I slid from the saddle in an awkward attempt to keep silent, and stayed behind him as we walked. We hugged the side of the road and crept forward until the trees opened. We crouched there and watched.

  I saw nothing out of the ordinary, but we remained still, sensing something beyond our vision. The unnatural stillness continued to pulse beneath my feet. Nathaniel gestured for me to stay, then started to rise. I latched onto his arm, but before I could plead with him to stay with me, I heard a rustle in the trees and movement caught my eye. Two hulking figures stepped into the road in front of us, a mere twenty paces away. My breath hissed as I sucked in and we watched both men unsheathe their large swords.

  “Princess Lylin,” Nathaniel said quietly as he drew his own sword with precision. “Get on your horse and ride.”

  “Nathaniel—”

  He thrust me away as a third man charged from his right. “GO!” he screamed and lunged forward, his sword raised.

  I stumbled, barely able to maintain my balance, then turned and ran flat out, driven by unconstrained fear. Willow sidled as I skidded to a halt and crammed my foot into the stirrup.

  Through the clash of swords, I heard someone yell, “Go after her!”

  I pulled myself into the saddle and fumbled for the reins. I yanked on them to pull Willow around before digging my heels into her sides. “Go! Go!” I sobbed, urging her into a trot. Only when she was at a full gallop did I glance back. The clash of swords rang through the night, but beyond that there was only blackness, so I looked ahead and rode. I had to get back to Ella’s house; there was nowhere else to go.

  Riding across the open countryside, I glanced behind me and my heart lodged in my throat. A rider followed a good distance behind.

  I pulled my horse in a different direction, refusing to lead danger to my sister’s doorstep. I urged Willow to go faster, my harried flight across the uneven ground made nearly unseating me. Moving past Ella’s estate, I looked back to see the rider closer than before. Willow could not keep this pace for long, and he was already closing in on me.

  Rain spattered my face. My early departure from Ella’s house had been useless. If I had just stayed put, I would not have been forced to hatch the reckless plan that entered my mind. The path I followed entered a grove of trees ahead. My pursuer would lose sight of me for at least a few moments once I was among the trees. It was my only chance, so I pushed Willow toward it.

  The sheeting rain blurred my vision as I entered the copse of trees, but I was determined. I pulled my right foot from the stirrup and swung my leg over. Just before the path opened to another field, I slapped Willow’s hindquarters and threw myself to the ground. My left side slammed onto the ground, scraping across the rough terrain before I skidded to a stop. Gasping for breath, I dragged myself on hands and knees away from the trail. I flattened myself to the ground and watched Willow continue to gallop. She disappeared into the rain without slowing. A second later, my pursuer galloped past at full tilt, his black cloak whipping behind him.

  There was no time to waste. I had to move before the rider discovered my deception and turned back to look for me.

  I rose to my feet, wincing in pain, and leaned against a tree, preparing myself for movement. Pain pulsed through my body with every step I took. My left shoulder was bruised and bleeding from hitting the ground, and pain radiated from my hip where I had slammed into a jagged rock. But I stood and found my ankles to be blessedly stable. I staggered off into the drenched night, putting as much distance between myself and my pursuer as possible. Every step hurt, but I clenched my teeth and kept up a lurching run until the stitch in my side forced me to stop. My wheezing breath sounded in my ears as I struggled for air. I tried slowing to a walk, but had to stop altogether to cure the stitch in my side. The wind tried to pull my cloak from shoulders. My face stung with every raindrop that pelted my face. Once able to take in a full breath, I continued on. I tried to run but didn’t have the energy, so I put my head down and trudged forward, watching as the water dipped from my hair. I could hear nothing but the roaring storm.

  I walked without direction, my legs aching as I slogged through the relentless downpour and the muddy ground for what must have been hours. I had never been so alone, so entirely dependent on myself, and everything inside of me seized with anxiety at the thought.

  As I continued placing one foot in front of the other, Lorraina’s words of warning rang through my head.

  “It’s not safe, Lylin.” She stood in my doorway, her posture rigid as always and her arms crossed in certainty. At twenty-one, Lorraina was three years my senior, and obsessed with appearances.

  I sighed, tired of the same argument. “I can’t stay here in the castle every hour of every day. It’s healthy for me to leave.” I returned to searching for a trinket to bring Ella’s two-year-old, Guinevere.

  “What’s so wrong with being at home?” Her tone indicated that I had offended her, but I refused to rise to the bait.

  “Nothing is wrong with it. I like being at home.”

  “Then why are you always running off to Ella’s house?”

  “Because I miss my sisters. I’m so grateful that you’re still here, but we had five sisters leave in barely more than five years. I love visiting Ella and she’s close enough that I can.” I crossed the room to add the little bracelet to the trunk that Missy had already packed for me.

  Lorraina shook her head. “I don’t understand the appeal.”

  “I know you don’t, which I assume is why you don’t accept her invitations. And that’s fine, but it doesn’t mean that my going is wrong.”

  “I didn’t say it was wrong.”

  “But that’s what you meant.” I closed the lid.

  “I sai
d it isn’t safe. You have one guard, and you insist on riding, which means you don’t even have a carriage to protect you.”

  I stood up and turned to face her. “Nothing is completely safe. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

  At the moment, it certainly didn’t feel worth it, but all I could do was continue forward and try to trust in my own capabilities. I trudged on, determined to arrive somewhere, and my persistence paid off. The rain was so heavy, that when I saw a light, I was practically on top of the manor house already. My heart pounded, ecstatic about the prospect of shelter, but terrified of the unknown. The house was surrounded by a wall, only as tall as my waist. I circled carefully until I found the stables, then pulled myself over the rough stones. I cracked the door open just enough to creep inside, overwhelmed by relief as I stepped out of the storm.

  The stables were dark, but held the familiar sounds and smells of horses. I walked down the aisle, jumping when a horse stuck its head over a wall, its curious eyes reflecting the small bit of moonlight seeping through the doors. Moving past, I reached the other end and tried to sit down, but the pain in my left side forced me to stretch out on my right. I pulled my sopping cloak around me, trying to bring some warmth back into my body and failing. Shaking with cold and fear, I thought through my options. Approaching the house would leave me vulnerable to whoever resided here, and I couldn’t trust anyone at this moment. I had never been so alone and found myself incapable of making a decision, so instead I just lay there, shaking.

  Just as I started to relax, the sound of voices made my eyes pop open, and I sat up, forcing my breathing to quiet. The doors at the other end of the stables slid open and someone entered, carrying a lamp and shaking water from their clothes.

  “I’m not seein’ things, Lord Fallon. Someone is in here,” a voice whispered. I sat still, unable to move. The lamp shifted, casting two men in ominous shadow.

  “I believe you, Giles. That’s why we’re here.” His Lordship sounded not at all concerned, as though he were merely humoring his hired man. He sounded more tired than anything.

  “The lamp, Giles.” The light transferred to His Lordship’s hands, illuminating his face and leaving me astonished by his youth. He looked to be in his twenties, and I wondered how such a young gentleman held the title of Lord. “You’re sure it wasn’t an animal of some sort?” he asked as he took his first steps down the long line of stalls. He would find me soon enough, and yet this prospect didn’t terrify me as it had moments ago. Lord Fallon looked not at all frightening. He wore trousers, a loose fitting shirt that hung untucked, and a full-length coat that fell in languid folds from his shoulders. Water dripped from his rumpled hair, sliding down his face and into his well-trimmed facial hair.

  “T’weren’t no animal, sir.”

  “The horses aren’t agitated. They would be if someone threatening were about.”

  When the light fell on me, Lord Fallon’s eyes widened. I tried to push myself to my feet, but he drew a sword that I had not realized was hanging at his side and pointed it at my throat. I fell back against the wall, crouching, my chest aching from the heavy beating of my heart.

  “I don’t take kindly to vagrants on my property.” His fatigue had vanished. Now he looked menacing—terrifying.

  My voice was barely audible as I forced a reply. “I’m not a vagrant, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed in question. “Remove your hood.”

  I raised my hand slowly and pushed the fabric back. His eyebrows raised, even more surprised by my appearance than by my voice. The sword lowered. “Giles, take her inside and put her in front of a fire. She’s freezing.” And with that, he walked away and I slumped back to the ground, numb with relief.

  “Come along then, miss,” Giles said as he helped me to my feet. “What in the world is a pretty thing like you doing wandering about in the middle of the night?” He seemed to be mumbling to himself, so I didn’t answer.

  Giles’ face was lined and his shoulders were stooped, but his smile was kind. He pulled my hood up for me and put a gentle arm about my waist as we left the stables. My body shook and I was glad for the help as we braved the storm once more. We entered the house and he helped me into a room with a rough wooden table and chairs. We must have been below-stairs, since I was certain the Lord’s living quarters would be much finer than this room. From my perch on a stool, I watched as Giles crouched before the banked fire and coaxed it back to life. I pushed my hands toward the flames, grateful to feel the warmth on my fingers.

  Once the fire was well stoked, Giles turned to me, rubbing his hands together. “If you’ll hand me your cloak, we need to wrap you in something dry.”

  It took a moment for my hands to reach for the clasp at my throat. I was drowsy with relief and fumbled to unfasten my cloak and give it to Giles. He pulled a blanket from somewhere behind me and draped it around my shoulders.

  “Very good, miss,” he said with a little bow and then left the room.

  I stared into the fire for quite a while before it struck me as odd that they had left me alone. I was a complete stranger to these people. They had no reason to trust me. Likewise, I had no reason to trust them.

  I moved each of my limbs in turn, taking note of the pain. My left shoulder, arm and hip seemed to have taken the brunt of my fall. During my flight through the storm, I had tried to ignore my injuries, but now I felt each and every one.

  Hearing footsteps approach, I turned toward the door, expecting someone to walk through it. But the footsteps ceased, replaced by voices.

  “And how is our little vagabond?”

  The corner of my mouth twitched upward. Lord Fallon was making no attempt to keep his voice down.

  “That’s no vagabond, sir. Feel this.” I furrowed my brow as Lord Fallon made a noise of interest. “Look for yourself, sir,” Giles prodded.

  Lord Fallon came through the door, his eyes falling to me. We each studied the other. He no longer appeared as though he’d been roused from his bed. Though water still glistened in his dark hair, he was impeccably dressed and I wondered at his reasons when he had assumed I was a beggar. Giles had entered behind him, holding my cloak.

  “I see what you mean.” His Lordship sighed, relaxing his posture somewhat before grabbing a chair and placing it next to me.

  I turned toward the fire and pulled the blanket tighter around me, unable to meet his gaze as I felt him staring at my profile for several moments.

  “You are injured, miss.”

  My eyes darted to him in surprise. I had expected him to demand my name. “Sir?”

  “Giles,” he said while still looking at me. “Go wake your wife. Our guest needs someone to tend to her injuries, and some dry clothing as well.”

  “She’ll be right pleased to have someone to fuss over,” Giles murmured as he left.

  In Giles’s absence, I realized I was alone in a dimly lit room with a handsome man. I turned my attention back to the fire, ignoring my discomfort.

  He scooted closer and I stiffened as he reached for my straight, dark hair, pushing it away from my cheek. “How were you injured?” I glanced over and realized he was inspecting a wound on my forehead.

  “I fell from a horse.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Why would you be riding so late at night?” He moved closer, getting a better look. “And in the middle of a storm?”

  It took me a moment to find my voice with him leaning so close. “I wasn’t. I was riding this evening, trying to make it home before the storm. I’ve been walking since I fell.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You were riding alone?”

  My heavy eyes blinked as I stared at the fire. “I was returning home with an escort. We found our way blocked by bandits—miscreants—I don’t know who they were.” I shook my head in frustration. “My escort told me to ride away and I did. But I was pursued and they were gaining on me. The only thing I could think to do was to jump off the horse and hope they followed her long enough for me t
o get away.”

  “And then you walked?” His voice was hushed.

  I glanced at him but couldn’t hold his gaze. “Then I walked…or ran when I could.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nodding to himself as he looked at the floor. “Forgive me, miss.” His eyes returned to me. “I do not recall ever having made your acquaintance, but you look very familiar.”

  I studied his face, surprised that I did not know him since I knew most of the nobility. “I have never seen you at court, sir.”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “This estate is falling to ruin. I do not have the time to play at being a socialite.”

  “And your name, sir?” I knew that he was Lord Fallon, but thought it polite to ask.

  “Rhys Fallon.” The dropping of his title surprised me.

  “A pleasure, sir.”

  He smiled at my hollow formality. “And who might you be?”

  I looked away, not wanting to lie, but unwilling to confess my true identity. I was royalty, this man’s superior, but I couldn’t make myself admit it, determined to protect myself. “Lily,” was the lie I came up with. “Lily Josten.”

  “And how—” he began but was interrupted by the abrupt entrance of an older woman. Unlike her master, she had not taken time to fully dress. She was in the midst of fastening her dressing gown as she walked toward me.

  “My gracious, what have we here?” she crouched before me, taking my face in hand. She was a lovely woman, all gray hair and compassion. She set about fussing over me—removing the blanket so that she could search for injuries and quietly inquire about others. I was shocked when she gave orders, not only to her husband, but to Lord Fallon as well. “Giles, put some water on to boil. Rhys, go pull some bandages from that cupboard over there.”

  I looked up to see how he would respond to being ordered about by someone who worked for him, but he simply rose and went to the cupboard. She focused mostly on my arm. My sleeve had been torn, revealing a long, ugly looking scrape from shoulder to elbow.

  Once she had acquired everything she needed, she waved the men away, “Now get out, the both of you. I must tend to her injuries.”