Excerpt from Rosamond’s Heart

Freedom.

Rosamond de Grace lifted her face to the morning sun, let its warmth seep into her skin.

Today was her birthday, and Lady Cerise had given her the entire day to do as she pleased. She planned to spend all of it as far from the castle as she could get. As far away from her memories as she could get.

Lifting her skirts, she ran across the bailey—and did a quick sidestep to avoid crashing into Nicolas, the burly captain in charge of the castle garrison.

His strong fingers closed over her shoulder. “Sorry, Rose. I didn’t see you.”

“Please, don’t apologize, Nicolas—I know you have your hands full.” She looked up at him, worried by the lines of exhaustion that scored his face, and equally worried for their cause. “Is there any word on Prince Jaren?”

“None.” Nicolas rubbed the bridge of his nose, and his guard slipped long enough for Rosamond to see the anger, the fear in his dark brown eyes.

Prince Jaren had been missing for three days now, and so far, the patrols Nicolas sent out hourly had found no sign of him.

Lady Cerise remained calm and unruffled, but Rosamond caught glimpses of the panic she hid behind her calm. That milady remembered her birthday at all made Rosamond doubly grateful.

“How are you?” she asked him.

Nicolas smiled, easing some of the strain. “Better, now I’ve seen you. Our lessons will have to wait, until we bring him home.”

That he didn’t add safe or alive to bringing the prince home tightened her throat. Lady Cerise would be devastated if the prince—

She cut off the thought. “I know you’ll find him, Nicolas.”

“Your words to the gods’ ears, Rose.”

“Not to worry.” She tried to lighten her voice. “My sword and those blasted throwing knives aren’t going anywhere. Unfortunately.”

His smile widened, just as she intended. “So, my girl, you have the day off from your lessons. What about your duties as Lady Cerise’s favorite new lady-in-waiting?”

Rosamond blushed at the compliment. “She gave me the entire day to myself.”

“Then you go and enjoy it.” He took her hands, his calloused grip warm and comforting. “Let the past stay in the past, where it belongs.”

Swallowing, she stared at their joined hands. “I’m planning to do just that. Nicolas, I—”

“Not another thank you.” He squeezed her hands. “You’ve more than earned your place here, and I could not be prouder of who you’ve become. Take today, make it your own.” Smiling, he leaned in and whispered against her hair. “Happy birthday, Rose.”

Before she could shake her surprise, he left her, stalking the length of the bailey, his clenched fists the only giveaway of his fear for the prince. With a slower, heavier step she headed for her destination, waving at the soldiers who trained a few yards away.

She rubbed absently at the callouses on her palm as she walked. Callouses caused by wielding a sword for hours at a time. Callouses that even heavy gloves didn’t prevent. She had resorted to wearing the lacy half-gloves she hated to keep from snagging delicate, expensive gowns.

But she knew, given her history, how those lessons eased Lady Cerise’s concern for her, so she kept any objections to herself.

The stable doors stood open, and as she approached, she could hear Dan singing to the horses. His voice had deepened over the last few months to a rich, scratched velvet tone. He spent those months in constant embarrassment, his voice cracking at unexpected moments—and blushed furiously every time it betrayed him.

Now, she heard the voice of the man he was becoming, and she liked it, far too much.

She watched him as he brushed the mare standing in front of him. His shoulder length black hair was tied back into a queue, revealing the birthmark that had always fascinated her.

A small, four pointed star, as green as his eyes. The first time she saw it, she thought it was a tattoo. But Dan told her, his eyes twinkling with mischief, that it was the mark of the dragon.

Seven-year-old Rosamond had believed him.

Smiling at the memory, she stepped inside, her skirts rustling on the fresh straw. Dan glanced over his shoulder and gave her a crooked smile.

“Morning, Rose. Have a seat—I’ve almost finished Lacy. She had a limp today, but we found the reason, didn’t we, Lacy?” He ran the wide brush in his hand along the bay’s flank with smooth, even strokes. “A bit early to be leaving your mistress, isn’t it?”

Her heart skipped.

He’s forgotten my birthday.

She tamped down her disappointment. With everyone in the castle worried about Prince Jaren, the extra patrols, and the entire garrison stomping around the bailey, the added work for Dan and his father most likely pushed it right out of his mind.

“Dan, how would you like to spend the day with me, a picnic basket, and two horses?”

He turned, dropping the brush in a wooden box. “And what’s the occasion?”

“Lady Cerise gave me the day off.”

“I’ll have to do some asking. Soldiers are thick on the ground today.” The same fear she had seen in Nicolas flared across Dan’s face. “I saw you talking to the captain. Anything?”

“Not yet. I am sorry, Dan.” As the prince’s groom, Dan worked with him almost daily, and cared for the prince more than he would ever admit. “They won’t stop until they find him.”

“It’s been too long, Rose. If he’s hurt—” Anguish scraped across his voice.

“Dan—”

He swung away from her reaching hand, his shoulders hunched. “I’ll be right back. Don’t run away.”

He grabbed Lacy’s bridle, his left foot dragging as he led the mare back to her stall.

Rosamond watched him, remembering the horror she had felt when the prince’s new stallion had attacked Dan moments after arriving at the castle.

He had gone wild, those deadly hooves breaking Dan’s leg, his left arm, and slashing open the skin over his right eye before soldiers managed to get the beast under control.

Two years of healing had given him back full use of his arm, and the stallion’s hoof had left a long, narrow scar that cut through his right eyebrow. But the butchers who called themselves physicians had set his leg wrong. By the time Dan’s father discovered it, nothing could be done.

Dan compensated for the weakness quite well, though the damp winters tired him, and she knew his leg ached more than he let on. He could still ride better than most of the cavalry, and he never lost his love for the horses in his care.

Rosamond admired his courage—she’d been too scared to go near a horse for months after the attack.

“I’ve been freed.” Dan moved across the stable, graceful despite his broken gait. Smiling, the pain in his eyes gone for the moment, he lifted his hand and opened it. “Happy birthday, Rose.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “You remembered.”

“You thought I’d forgotten? I am wounded.” He staggered, clutching his chest dramatically. “How could I possibly forget the most important day of the most important person in my life? I am overcome.” His fingers closed over the tiny box. “I may have to keep the gift.” He smiled at her outraged gasp. “To ease my shame.”

“Give it over.” She tried not to laugh—it would only encourage him—but she couldn’t stop herself. “Dan—”

“I am merely your humble servant, my lady, at your command.” With a bow and flourish, he laid the box in her hand. Surprise jolted her when he kissed her cheek. “I hope you like it.”

Her fingers shook as she reached for the clasp.

Silly—it was just a friendly kiss, for my birthday. It meant nothing more.

On the third try, the silver clasp popped open, and she lifted the lid.

“Oh, Dan,” she whispered. A silver pendant rested on the black velvet, finely wrought, of a dragon in flight. The same dragon she had seen carved into the most ancient parts of the castle. Her dragon. She blinked back tears as she looked up at him. “How—”

“The silversmith owed me a favor. Let me put it on.”

He picked up the necklace and moved behind her, draping the long, delicate chain around her neck. The dragon rested just above the scooping neckline of her gown.

“Dan—it’s perfect.” She touched one wing, the silver cool against her skin. “How can I thank you for something so beautiful?”

“By wearing it.”

“I’ll never take it off.” She turned around, and before she could stop herself, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

He blushed and spun away from her. “I’d best get those horses saddled.”

“I’ll fetch the basket. Cook promised to fill it to the brim when I told her that you would be sharing it.” He hunched his shoulders—and Rosamond knew she had somehow hurt him again. “Dan? What is it?”

“I don’t have—the same appetite, since…” His voice faded.

He never spoke of the attack. That he even referred to it now startled her.

She pasted a smile on her face and moved to his side. “It will not go to waste, I promise you. As milady so delicately stated, I have the stomach capacity of ten strong men.”

He laughed, just as she’d hoped. His brilliant green eyes studied her. “How do you do that? How do you help me forget?”

“Because what happened hasn’t changed who you are. Not to me.” Gratitude flared in his eyes. “Go on, saddle the horses. And no sidesaddle,” she called after him.

He stopped dead, his eyes wide as he turned to her. “You’re not wearing—”

“I want to be comfortable—and Lady Cerise gave her blessing. She had an exact duplicate made for herself, and told me it is the best riding outfit she ever owned.”

“Heaven help me.” Dan ran both hands through his hair, dislodging the leather strip holding his queue. He yanked it free and stalked toward the stalls. “I’ll never be living this one down. Never.”

Rosamond smiled as she headed for the castle.

~*~