The Taken Princess by Rose Jenna

Author:Rose, Jenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

9

Percival

I hear the sound of hooves as we come down the trail to the cottage and immediately set Elsa down behind the cover of a large oak.

“Stay here,” I hiss. Elsa’s eyes flare with fright, but she does as I ask. Quickly, I make my way a few feet down the path to the hollow trunk where I’ve hidden a sword. I take it and ready myself.

If it’s the king’s men come to take us, this may not be a fight I can win. I haven’t anticipated them coming this deep into the forest this soon, but as I stalk closer, I see it’s only Agnes with her pony.

Agnes is an old woman who lives on the outskirts of town. She lost her husband many years ago, and the townspeople were unkind to her, shunning her because of some vicious, untrue rumors, and she has no one in her life to rely on. So I help her out whenever I can.

“Cover your eyes, Agnes,” I announce. “Unless you wish to see me as I came into this world!”

Agnes giggles and puts her hands over her eyes. I motion to Elsa, who emerges from her hiding place, and I quickly take her down to the cabin and shut her inside. “I’ll only be a moment,” I tell her as I slide into a pair of pants.

“Who is she?” she asks. “A spy?”

“No.” I smile. “Just an old woman who needs my help.”

“Some fine young thing with you?” Agnes asks slyly as I go over to her. She may be old, but she’s sharp as a whip. Still, I can’t risk letting her know that I have the princess of the kingdom inside.

“Just a farmer’s daughter who wandered too deep into the woods,” I reply with a smile. “What can I do for you today?”

“I hate to ask. You know I do—”

“Speak your mind, Agnes,” I say as warmly as I can. “You have nothing to fear here.”

The old woman sighs, twisting her hands together. “More bandits last night. Came for the last of my grain and my bread.”

“The king’s men did nothing?”

“They never do anything,” she replies, shaking her head. “I sometimes wonder if the king cares for his subjects at all.”

“As do I.” I smile. “As do I.”

I fill a sack with grain and place two loaves of bread in her pony’s saddlebags. Agnes looks ashamed. She’s a proud woman who lost her husband last year and has been on her own ever since. She doesn’t like to ask for help, but I like to give it to her. Someone has to look after her, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the king.

“You are too kind, Sir Percival,” she says sadly.

“I’m not a sir any longer, Agnes. Just Percival.”

“Well, that farmer’s daughter will be lucky to have you,” she replies. “As would any woman. It’s a shame I’m not forty years younger or I’d take a run at you myself!”

And I believe her. Agnes’ eyes light up,

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