The Countess' Captive (The Fairytale Keeper Book 2) Read Free Page A

go. Catch this heretic and fetch cutters for this man.”
    The men run past our carriage toward Hay Market. Galadriel stays with Gregor, his face the portrait of shame. She puts her hand in his, sliding her perfect fingers along his gnarled ones. They whisper quietly. Gregor’s lips purse, and he nods as she talks, surely explaining that she never meant to insult him, only to save him, save him from my folly. His gaze moves to the carriage, and he tips his head in greeting to us. The undeserved forgiveness only makes my guilt heavier.
    I owe him more than an apology, but since that is all I have to offer, I would like to give it. “Papa…” I start, but his fierce gaze silences me. I look down. “I would like to apologize…to Gregor.”
    “No. You can bear the burden of your guilt in silence. I won’t have you risking us all to ease it.”
    The door opens, and Galadriel’s shaky hand grips the driver’s. Her face whitens, and she collapses into her seat, shivering. She drops the cutters on the floor of the carriage and pounds on the wall, signaling the driver to leave in great haste.
    Father unties his cloak and wraps it around her. “Are you all right?”
    Her hand shakes as she clutches her chest. Sweat glistens on her forehead. She nods. “Do you think they believed me? Do you think Gregor is saved?”
    Father points to the cutters on the floor. “They gave you the only evidence against him.”
    Galadriel’s chest heaves with a great breath, and she sighs. “As long as Hochstaden doesn’t find out…”
    She drops her twitching hands between her knees. The droplets upon her forehead swell, her face pales unnaturally, and I could have predicted the faint before it came. Her eyes roll, and she folds, falling upon the floor of the carriage. Father jumps to catch her.
    She lies limp in his arms. “Galadriel!” He shakes her shoulders. “Galadriel!”
    I drop to the floor, untie the cloak, and open the shutters. Now that we are out of the city, the air is clean and brisk.
    Her eyelids flutter, and a sigh slips between her lips. Her eyes dart around the carriage, looking lost. Her gaze finds Father’s, and she smiles like a lovesick fool. Father folds his lips. The furrow in his brow melts away.
    Will he look at her the same way she looks at him: like some lovesick fool?
    He doesn’t. And I think he could never love her like he loved Mama. The thought warms me like strong wine.
    Father helps Galadriel into her seat, and rather than sit beside me, he joins her on the other side of the carriage. My taste of triumph turns quickly bitter.
    Serfs and villeins solemnly make their way through the light smoke to the fields. Ivo. I must warn him. I can’t let Elias get to him. I won’t see Ivo punished like a heretic. I peer out the left window. Many of the workers sow while others still plow.
    How many furlongs are we from the Bauer’s fields? I wonder, biting my lip. The heat of a stare bores into my cheek. I look up. Father watches my bouncing knee. His narrowed gaze darts from my face to the left window and back to my face again. Sometimes I think he can read my thoughts—though he only bothers himself when it’s most inconvenient.
    I still myself and gaze out the right window instead, an effort to ease Father’s suspicion. We’ve passed the Bauer’s fields by now. But by how much?
    I slide near the door and feign sleep, resting my head against the shift Ivo brought me days ago. It is the only reminder I have of my mother. The rest of them were burned in the street. I breathe in. The fabric still smells like lavender, still smells like her . A snore jostles me from thought.
    Father’s eyelids bounce, and his head nods forward. I watch. He is just barely asleep. Barely will have to be good enough.
    I bunch a length of skirt in my hand and lip a silent prayer before taking a deep breath and plunging through the door.
    My feet sink into the earth, but I spring up quickly. Father’s angry shout cuts through