Page 34 of The Forest Bride

Sitting in the chair, she paged through a book mindlessly and tried to still her fears, trying to imitate the natural calm of Lady Rowena and the courage and spirit of Lady Margaret. Shehad boldness in her, she knew that, but the days, the fear—and perhaps the herbal infusions—had eroded that.

Hearing the door latch rattle, she folded her hands and straightened her shoulders. She wanted to seem calm and brave and look like a king’s daughter. Her father would expect it.

The servant woman who had come every day entered again, wearing a plain dun-colored gown and a white head kerchief that did not obscure her sour expression. Carrying a small jug and a covered bowl, she placed them on the table and poured liquid into the cup. Picking up the other pitcher, she nodded to Lilias.

“My lady. To break your fast.”

“What is in the cup? I will not be dosed again. You have been giving me valerian.”

The woman raised her eyebrows high. “My lady, there was naught in the drink to harm you. Just a little to calm you.”

“Too high a dose. Go to whoever is holding me here,” she said, “and tell them I will neither eat nor drink until I know it is harmless.”

“If you wish.” The woman went to the door, then stopped. “Oh! Sir William!”

She backed away as the door opened wider and a man stepped into the room. He glanced at the servant, then Lilias, frowning. A tall man, dark haired and dark eyed, he wore a long blood-red surcoat with silver embroidery, an expensive garment, with a black tunic and boots. He was a handsome knight, not as old as her father but older than Sir Henry Keith or Sir Hugh Stewart.

“Lady Elisabeth, greetings,” he said to Lilias; she had not shared her affectionate name here. Let them call use her formal name. He turned to the servant, who looked discontent. “Dame Brigit, speak. Is there a problem here?”

“Sir, my lady says she will no longer eat or drink for fear of being poisoned.”

“That is not exactly what I said.” Lilias stepped forward.

He glanced at her, then at the woman. “She is a child and will do as she is told. Dame Brigit brought you food. You will eat it.”

“I am being given sleeping draughts against my will.”

“You need it, from the ruckus that I heard. You are calmer and should thank the good dame for that.”

“She should know a slight girl needs a slight dose. Where am I, and who are you?’

“Sir William de Soulis.”

“De Soulis? My father mentioned the name. I thought De Soulis was dead.”

“My uncle Walter was killed recently. Why does it matter to a child?”

“When I hear things, I think about them. Why am I in this place?”

“This is Roskie Castle, which belongs to Sir John Menteith, sheriff of Dunbartonshire. You are his guest.”

“Guest! I hear the drawbar each time the door closes.”

“We must protect you from harm.”

“Better if my escort and I had been left alone. Why were we attacked? Where are my men and companions now? Who told you my name?”

“A knight in your escort. Before he died, alas.”

“Did you slay him?” She sounded bolder than she felt. Her legs trembled so under her gown that she put a hand on the table to stay upright.

“Child,” he said. “Be fair and grateful. Did you forget that Sir John’s men tried to save you? You were attacked. You are under the sheriff’s protection after a rescue from brigands.”

“That is not true.”

“A child may see things differently than an adult. You may eat and drink without fear. No one will harm you here.”

“A real sheriff would send word to my father. He is—” She stopped, about to say the one name she should protect.