Annelise’s worst nightmare was unfolding before her very eyes and, worse, there was little she could do about it. She had already been chided once for not paying attention to her embroidery.

“Yves, the most sensible course would be to wed your sister to Hildegarde’s son.” Bertrand de Beauvoir clapped Annelise’s younger brother on the shoulder as if they were comrades. Though his manner was friendly—more friendly than he had ever been to Yves in the past—Annelise wondered why the old mercenary was so certain what choice Yves should make.

She was not certain that Bertrand had ever before spoken directly to Yves before. Her younger brother was a bastard, true enough, but their father had let him be raised within the walls of Château Sayerne.

Indeed, Jerome de Sayerne had not been without his own motives in that choice or any other. It had been her own father who had taught Annelise to look behind a man’s smooth words to the truth of his intentions.

What would Bertrand gain from this proposed match?

“I am not certain Annelise should wed a man I know so little about,” Yves replied calmly.

Annelise cast him a look but he ignored her. Why would he not ask her opinion? She parted her lips to protest but Bertrand’s wife shushed her.

Again.

That woman’s agitation convinced Annelise to be silent. She had a good idea why the other woman might fear her husband and had no desire to make trouble.

Was it so unreasonable to want to wed for love or not at all?

With their father deceased, Yves was all the family she had left. It was annoying that a half-brother, who had not seen her in years, would be asked to decide her fate while she would not be permitted to comment. Indeed, it seemed the place of women in the wider world was not so different from that of the convent. Frustration roiled within Annelise.

She had a legitimate brother, Quinn, though she had never met him. Quinn had left Sayerne to earn his own way before Annelise had even been conceived. No one was certain of his location and Annelise was glad of it. She would never forget the tales her father had told of the cruelty of his first-born.

Considering the source, Quinn was not a man she ever wanted to encounter.

That was why they were at Beauvoir. She knew they had been right to leave Château Sayerne when they had heard that Quinn would soon return home again. It suited Annelise’s sense of justice to leave the man who had inherited her father’s cruelty a second worthless legacy.

Château Sayerne, the traditional holding of Annelise’s family, might once have been a prize but was so no longer. Jerome had let the estate fall into neglect and, with his death, the last of Sayerne’s tenants had fled. This past year, not a single seed had been sown in Sayerne’s fields. The holding had declined so greatly from its original state that Annelise and Yves had not even needed to discuss the merit of leaving once they learned of Quinn’s pending return.

Neither of them had looked back.

Beauvoir was, in marked contrast to Sayerne, a comfortable keep, despite its remote location. Bertrand, the new Lord de Beauvoir, had been entrusted with the strategic task of guarding the Beauvoir Pass by their overlord, Lord de Tulley. At this pass, the old Roman road passed out of Lord de Tulley’s holdings on its route south to Rome. Château Beauvoir was perched on the apex of the pass and built across the road itself. No one could cross the mountains without paying the toll.

Beauvoir’s tower was as narrow as a needle, like a finger pointed to heaven, its construction having been restricted by the rocky terrain on all sides. There were windows only at the very top of the tower, in Bertrand’s solar and the guard’s watch above. To say that the keep was heavily garrisoned would have been an understatement. It was the most military keep in all of Tulley’s holdings, which said much about its strategic location.

On this night, Annelise and Bertrand’s wife were the only women to be found within the walls. Annelise had been keenly aware of the soldiers’ gazes following her every move and could not wait to leave Beauvoir behind. She felt like prey or like a prize to be seized.

The question was where she and Yves would ride.

The chamber that Bertrand used to administer his holding was adjacent to the great hall. It was a sparsely furnished room, although the pieces there were fine ones. A merry fire burned in the brazier and the air was smoky but warm.

Silver-haired Bertrand sat in a high-backed oak chair that faced the fire, its wooden arms worn to a smooth patina. The lines on his face were etched into a severe expression, and he looked every inch the experienced commander that he was.

His wife perched closer to the fire on a three-legged stool, much like the one Annelise used, although the lady had a cushion of wool dyed richly red. A mousy woman with almost no color in her complexion, Bertrand’s wife bent over her embroidery, her shoulders rounded, her demeanor meek. Annelise had yet to hear her speak a word unbidden.

The way she looked at her husband was enough to chill Annelise’s heart.

Annelise, in contrast, was seldom so quiet. Her outspoken nature had been the greatest challenge of her time at the convent dedicated to Ste. Radegund and their vow of silence had been one reason she had so despised her time there.

The golden light from the fire cast what was a tense discussion in a falsely warm glow of intimacy. The light burnished Yves’ mail to silver and cast mysterious shadows in the secret corners of the room.

“She must wed, though,” Bertrand said to Yves as if Annelise was not even present. “A man cannot make his way dragging a sister by his side.” The older man’s silver brows drew together sternly. “You did ask me for advice, after all, and this is the only option that makes good sense. I know of no other suitable men seeking a bride at this time.”

“Perhaps someone might ask my opinion,” Annelise murmured. “After all, it is my future that you discuss.” Bertrand’s wife shot a warning glance in her direction, but both men continued as though she had not spoken.

Yves tapped his toe. “Perhaps the Lord de Tulley should be consulted about this match,” he mused. “I would not want to offend him by taking the matter into my own hands.”

Since their father’s demise, Yves had shown a decisive side that Annelise had barely glimpsed before. She did not really care for this aspect of her half-brother, for it reminded her of her father’s determination.

Annelise was forced to acknowledge that she truly did not know Yves that well. She had returned to Sayerne from the convent only a year before Jerome’s death, after all.

“Nonsense!” Bertrand dismissed Yves’ comment. “Tulley has too much on his board these days to trifle with the match of a noblewoman without a dowry. You must make a match where you can and see the matter resolved with haste.”

Annelise felt her color rise at being discussed like some baggage to be forced on another.

“But who is this Hildegarde?” Yves asked, only the first of many questions Annelise had.

“Hildegarde de Viandin, an old family friend. Her husband, Millard, and I trained together. Sadly, Millard passed away some years ago.”

Annelise licked a thread and fed the floss through the eye of the needle. A lady should hold her tongue. She repeated the nuns’ admonition to herself silently.

Bertrand cleared his throat. “She wrote last summer to ask whether I knew of a suitable young woman to marry her second son. The eldest, of course, is the heir, but Hildegarde might be persuaded to ensure that the younger son be granted a small holding.”

Yves said nothing, and Bertrand continued. “Annelise cannot expect to do much better, you know, given her lack of dowry. And everyone knows about the curse of her forthright manner.” He fired a glance at Annelise that kept her from protesting the accusation.

The nuns would have been proud of her, she thought, and jabbed the needle into the linen.

“The timing is most opportune, Yves, and the family is a good one. Their holdings are prosperous, and your sister would have a most satisfactory life.”

Annelise could keep silent no longer. “Satisfactory by whose standards?”

Bertrand visibly gritted his teeth. “It is a curse,” he muttered, and Yves’ lips tightened.

“It is not a curse to know one’s own mind,” Annelise argued, ensuring her tone was polite. “I fail to see how my opinion could not be relevant. You are discussing my future and marriage to a man with whom I would be destined to spend the rest of my life.”

“Annelise, can you be silent for once?” Yves said impatiently. “You know that this decision is not yours to make.”

“I do not like it.”

“It does not matter what you like,” Yves retorted in a sharp tone he had never used with her before. “A sensible choice must be made and I will make it.”

“You might ask me...”

“I know what you will say. You are not in love with any man, so far as I know, so you would remain unwed,” Yves replied. He flung out a hand. “Where will you go, a maiden with no dowry?”

“I thought I would stay with you.”

“You were wrong.”

Annelise’s conviction that Yves would do his best for her faltered.

Yves paced across the wooden floor in the shadows beyond Bertrand, his hands clasped behind his back, his bright blond hair catching the light. His expressive amber eyes, so like her own, were hidden from view, and Annelise felt that her brother had become a stranger.

He straightened, and before the words even fell from his mouth, Annelise saw that Yves meant to agree with Bertrand. She tossed the needlework aside, hating Yves for betraying her treasured hopes.

How dare he cast her desire aside for his own convenience?

Before she could utter a word, though, there was a knock on the door.

“Lord Enguerrand de Roussineau to see his lordship,” Bertrand’s manservant announced.

Bertrand winced, then composed his expression and beckoned with one stately finger. His wife set aside her embroidery and scurried to call for refreshment. Annelise watched as a young man of whom she had heard much—and little of it complimentary—swept into Bertrand’s chamber.

Enguerrand was dark-haired, and more lavishly dressed than Annelise would have expected he could afford. There was a dusting of snow across the heavy green cloak tossed over his shoulders, and more snow on his boots. He brought a whiff of the night into the chamber and she guessed that he had just arrived. His gaze flitted over the room and she knew she did not imagine that his eyes gleamed when he spotted her.

That made her dread his mission.

Enguerrand smiled then, bowing low to Bertrand, as if Annelise was not there. The older man tolerated the gesture, although he arched a brow at Yves over the new arrival’s head as though he, too, wondered at Enguerrand’s purpose. Enguerrand accepted the welcome cup offered by Bertrand’s wife, although he took no notice of the woman herself.

He did not even show the courtesy to thank her.

Annelise was glad to bend over her needlework rather than to speak with this man.

“It is long since we have had the honor of your company,” Bertrand said with a coldness that could not be missed.

Enguerrand spoke warmly, in contrast. “Bertrand, neighbor of mine, I come for tidings. Do you know the whereabouts of Annelise de Sayerne? I have just found Sayerne deserted and Tulley is away at battle.”

“Why do you seek my sister?” Yves demanded.

Enguerrand jumped as though he had not seen the younger man, that ruse making Annelise distrust him even more. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed Yves. “Sister?” he asked. “I had thought Jerome de Sayerne had only two children.”

“Two legitimate children,” Yves confirmed, his stance proud. “I am his bastard, although my father spoke of giving me legal status as his son.”

“But he did not?”

“No.”

“Ah!” There was no mistaking the relief that swept over Enguerrand’s features. His gaze slid to Annelise once more. “Might this be the fair Annelise herself?”

Annelise rose to her feet and set her handwork aside. “I am Annelise de Sayerne,” she admitted. “Why do you seek me?”

Enguerrand sank to his knee before Annelise and lifted her hand to his lips. “Fairest Annelise,” he murmured against her fingers. “I am most charmed to make your acquaintance.”

“Indeed?” Annelise should have returned the compliment and she knew it.

“Indeed,” Enguerrand confirmed, undeterred. “Your beauty is more than I might have hoped for when I set out to seek your hand in marriage.”

“Marriage?”

That the subject should come up twice in such short order was beyond belief. Annelise had always been told how unsuitable she was for marriage, both by her father and by the nuns. Too outspoken, too poorly skilled in household tasks, too tall. Her auburn hair was a liability—it had to mark a fearsome temper and, worst of all, she was without a dowry.

Yet two offers for her hand were to be heard on the same day, within moments of each other.

Why would this man seek her out? Annelise wondered whether Enguerrand believed that Quinn would not return home. Perhaps he desired Sayerne for himself.

Was that also Lady Hildegarde’s motivation? Did she seek a holding for her younger son outside her elder son’s legacy of Viandin?

Would either of them be pleased with the reality of Sayerne’s impoverished state, even if Annelise did inherit it? This knight did not look like one inclined to work hard to gain his desires.

And what if Quinn did come home as Tulley insisted he would? Annelise would bring nothing to any match, then, and might find herself in a similar position as her mother.

The prospect made her heart chill.

“Yes, my lady,” Enguerrand continued with confidence in her acceptance. “You will be fairer than fair as my bride.”

“I thank you for the proposal, but I will not be your bride.”

“Of course, you will,” Enguerrand insisted.

“Of course, I will not!” Annelise tugged her hand out of Enguerrand’s grip and backed away.

“Annelise!” Yves chided.

Bertrand’s wife gasped, and Bertrand fired a reproving glance Annelise’s way.

Enguerrand straightened and brushed off his cloak as if unconcerned. Annelise was not fooled. She could fairly smell the anger in him and it terrified her.

“Do not concern yourselves,” he said in a low voice, his gaze rising to fix on Annelise. “I have always enjoyed women of spirit. I am certain the lady can be convinced of my...ardor.”

Annelise swallowed but did not flinch.

“Perhaps you will have no such opportunity,” Bertrand said.

Enguerrand tossed the weight of his cloak over his shoulder as he turned to Bertrand. “What do you mean?”

“Hildegarde de Viandin seeks a wife for her son. Yves and I were discussing the terms of our agreement that Annelise should be that bride.”

Already he spoke of it as an agreement! Annelise kept silent, though, wondering if it would be better to wed a stranger than Enguerrand.

“Who is this son?” Enguerrand asked, his manner haughty.

Bertrand consulted the missive, though surely he knew the answer. “A knight who has taken up the cross—the younger son, name of Rolfe.”

“So, he is in Outremer?” Enguerrand scoffed. “This lady has no need of a spouse far away in the Holy Land.”

Annelise arched a brow that this knight was so convinced of her needs, without knowing any detail of her beyond her name and origin.

“He is expected home soon,” Bertrand said. “He sent word to his mother from Outremer that he rode for home.”

Enguerrand threw out his hands. “But if this Rolfe never returns, then where would our fair Annelise be? Do you imagine Hildegarde would show compassion for a mere fiancé? Their match would not even be consummated!”

Bertrand bristled. “How dare you imply that Rolfe will not arrive home?” he demanded. “How dare you imply that Hildegarde’s intent is less than honorable?”

“Admit the truth, Bertrand,” Enguerrand replied. “You do not even know whether this knight still draws breath. There have been many casualties in the East, and this man might well have been among them.”

“Rolfe is bold in battle!” Bertrand insisted. “He is the son of a noble and esteemed family who will treat his intended bride well. He is on the route for home!”

But he would marry the bride his mother had chosen for him, without a word of protest. Annelise did not make the protest. She realized that she wanted to wed for love and to wed a man who could make a decision for himself.

She would have a husband who believed in the merit of love.

Her father might have told her that she wished for too much and she guessed that Bertrand would agree.

“Enguerrand’s concern is not unfounded,” Yves said to Bertrand. Enguerrand smiled. “My only goal is to see Annelise safe in my absence. Perhaps it would be best to await this Rolfe’s return before committing to the match. She could remain here, at Beauvoir, under your protection.”

Bertrand shook his head. “What if your brother Quinn returns home first? We have all heard the horrible tales of his cruelty. Surely you cannot imagine that he will have any concern for your welfare or that of your sister? She would be a pawn to him and no one would be able to protest his legal right to do with her as he chose.” Annelise locked her hands together, thinking of this prospect. Bertrand was firm. “The lady’s future must be assured immediately.”

“In contrast to this possibly deceased man,” Enguerrand said, “I am here this very day, bearing gifts for the delightful Annelise. Surely, Yves, my offer bodes better for the future of your lovely sister.”

“We all know the handicap of Roussineau,” Bertrand noted. “Even the second son of Viandin would be better situated than the heir of Roussineau.”

Enguerrand flushed, which told Annelise that Bertrand was too close to the truth for comfort.

“Roussineau is a holding of much potential,” Enguerrand argued.

Particularly, Annelise concluded, if he could marry into a larger and better-situated holding. Sayerne had been badly abused in the last years of her father’s life, and certainly had been poorly managed, but at least the fields were fertile.

Unlike Roussineau. Annelise had heard about its setting in the foothills, rife with boulders and stones. There was precious little soil between the rocks, and even less sun, with mountains surrounding Roussineau to the west and south. She knew that the vein of silver mined there in the past had been depleted.

“Have the tithes improved at Roussineau of late, Enguerrand?” Yves asked.

Annelise cast a glance across the hall that her brother chose to ignore.

Enguerrand smiled. “Roussineau may be a small holding, but it is adequate to see to your sister’s needs and safety. I am not without ambition, though, and imagine that your charming sister will be more finely housed within short order.”

“Housed like some steed acquired at the market,” Annelise muttered. Bertrand’s wife was the only one who heard, evidently, and her lips thinned.

“Adequate?” Bertrand retorted. “Roussineau is hardly adequate for any manner of lady. Yves, do not be a fool! Accept Hildegarde’s offer and see Annelise’s future assured.”

Yves’ manner was thoughtful, and he flicked considering glances at the two older men as he paced. He did not, Annelise noted with rising anger, even so much as acknowledge that she was in the room.

“Yves!” Enguerrand appealed. “See Annelise wedded now, to me, and know the matter is resolved. We can exchange our vows this very night and ride to Roussineau in the morning, man and wife.”

“I say she should wed Hildegarde’s son!” Bertrand declared. He pounded on the arm of his chair, clearly not accustomed to being challenged in his own home. “There can be no other sensible choice.”

“And I say she should wed me!” Enguerrand replied, taking a step forward.

“Perhaps we could leave the matter for a few days,” Yves suggested.

“No, Yves, there is no need to wait so long,” Annelise said firmly. All three men glanced her way then, their expressions surprised. “There is nothing to decide,” she declared. “I shall wed neither of these men and that is final.”

“Annelise!” Enguerrand whispered as if she had wounded him. Bertrand’s face set in anger, and Yves watched her with open curiosity.

At the very least, Annelise had their attention.

“What manner of young woman would show such audacity to her seniors?” Bertrand demanded. “No wonder your father saw you cloistered for most of your years. It is your place to be silent, woman!”

“As Hildegarde’s son’s place is beneath her thumb?” Annelise retorted. “I cannot imagine what I should want of a man wrought of such mettle.”

“And I cannot imagine how a woman of such sweet countenance could be cursed with a viper’s tongue,” Bertrand retorted.

“Then we are agreed that the match would not be a wholesome one,” Annelise concluded sweetly, then gestured to Enguerrand. “What do you know of this man, Yves?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted her brother to say the words.

“Only what he says and the rumor I have heard,” he admitted.

“Consider, then, that you would grant my hand to a stranger whose repute is less than ideal.” Annelise forced herself to continue in an even tone. “I would not slight another guest of our host, but it could well be that this gentleman’s sights are set upon Sayerne itself.”

Enguerrand’s lips set in a thin line, but Annelise ignored him.

“And of this younger son of Viandin, you know nothing at all. Am I right?”

Yves agreed with reluctance.

“He is another stranger.”

“I know his family,” Bertrand began.

“I will have neither of them,” Annelise said, then met Yves’ gaze. “You know that I am determined to wed for love alone.”

“Love needs only time to grow,” Enguerrand murmured.

“Love?” Bertrand protested. “Trust a woman to be guided by such whimsy.”

“It is not whimsy,” Annelise replied, knowing the truth from her own experience. “It is a guarantee for a woman’s future, and I will not exchange marital vows without it.”

“You will die a maiden then,” Bertrand replied, his tone practical. He turned to Yves again. “If a valiant knight like Hildegarde’s son does not meet with her favor, then none will satisfy. You must choose for her, Yves.”

“She will undoubtedly find marriage has much to commend it, once she has a babe or two.” Enguerrand lent his voice to persuade Yves.

Annelise bristled and did not take her seat again.

“You cannot take Annelise with you while you seek your fortune, Yves, and I will not have her remain here unwed,” Bertrand stated flatly. “This keep is too full of warriors and it would be unfitting for me to accept responsibility for a maiden. Annelise cannot return to Sayerne, so she must go somewhere, under some man’s defense.”

“Surely you do not desire to see sweet Annelise left alone, without husband, hearth, and protection?” At Enguerrand’s question, Yves’ shoulders sagged.

“Annelise,” he appealed. “You must make a choice and make it this night.”

Her heart softened a bit that he finally appealed to her. “You could take me with you.”

Yves shook his head. “No. I must see you safe before I depart to seek my own fortune.” He held her gaze resolutely. “I must insist that you choose one suitor or the other. I bid you decide immediately, before Quinn returns.”

“Choose from these two men, Annelise, if you insist upon making your own choice, but do it now and see the matter resolved,” Bertrand added. “You do not grow any younger and soon your appeal will diminish even more.”

Annelise lifted her chin, knowing that there was only one way to compel Yves to understand how serious she was. “If I must choose a spouse this very night, then I choose to return to the convent. I will become a bride of Christ.” She held Yves’ gaze, knowing that resolve shone in her own.

Yves knew how much she had loathed the convent. Surely, once he saw that she would rather return there than marry, he would abandon the argument?

Her threat hung in the air. The fire crackled, and all eyes were fixed upon her.

To her astonishment, Yves nodded calmly in agreement.

“So be it,” he said. “We ride for the convent of Ste. Radegund at first light.”

Annelise’s lips parted in shock.

Yves arched a fair brow. “It was you who named the price, Annelise,” he reminded her softly. “I must have you safe before Quinn comes home, and you have made your choice.”

Then he turned away, accepting Bertrand’s invitation of a cup of wine. Enguerrand stared at her, but Annelise did not acknowledge him.

She had thought she could trust Yves.

But she knew her own desire and it was not folly. Should the convent be the price she was condemned to pay for her convictions, then pay she would.

* * *

The sky was pearly when Annelise descended to the bailey just before dawn the next morning. The snow was already falling thick and fast. The wind was cold enough to chill right to the bone, and she shivered as she mounted her palfrey.

She had hoped that Yves would change his thinking. She had expected him to meet her this morning, or halt her on her way to her palfrey to declare that he had relented. Yves knew how she had hated her years in the cloister. He knew that life would never suit her. He had to realize she had made the claim to show him her determination to avoid these matches.

But he had not come to her.

Annelise’s gaze flew to him as he stepped out of the hall, apparently preoccupied with donning his gloves. Was this the moment of his capitulation?

Without even glancing her way, Yves strode to his destrier and mounted.

Fear rose within Annelise. Perhaps he only waited until they were upon the road to speak to her. He would not want to back down before all these soldiers and Bertrand.

But there was a resolute set to her younger brother’s lips that troubled her.

It would be the convent for her.

The horses snorted, their breath making clouds in the cold air. Squires blew on their hands to keep warm, and the gatekeeper looked to be wearing every garment he owned.

Another burly man stamped his feet as he paced back and forth in the tollbooth, although at this early hour, no traveling merchants had yet reached the pass. Annelise was not surprised that Tulley—and Beauvoir—had no intention of failing to collect any coin due.

The portcullis protested with a squeal as it was hauled skyward. Yves cast a stern glance over his party, but did not meet his sister’s gaze before leading the group toward the gate. Bertrand and his wife had not even come to say farewell. Annelise’s heart felt as cold as the snow around her.

Unlike the last time, when she had been sent to the nuns for her education, Annelise would never be able to leave the cloister again.

She would be consigned to a lifetime of silence.

She would be alone, entrusted to the care of an abbess who was a complete stranger, surrounded by yet more strangers.

And there would be no hope of respite.

It had been the hope of a future beyond the convent walls that had made the cloister bearable before. That and the dreadful secret Annelise had confided in none, a secret that held no fear for her any longer, yet still left its legacy in her thoughts. Her throat tightened that once again she would be banished for being an inconvenience in the lives of men.

The choices were impossible, though. As sad as it was, the convent was the best of the array of poor choices.

Annelise lifted her chin as their little party left the shelter of Beauvoir. The portcullis dropped behind them with a clang that echoed in Annelise’s own bones. Outside the gates, the wind was strong and cold. It burrowed beneath all the layers of clothing she wore.

Pine trees covered in fresh snow flanked the road. Rocky cliffs above disappeared into the low clouds. The morning was as colorless and cold as a tomb. The party was silent as the wind cavorted about them, and the horses bent their heads as they headed southward.

Curse Yves! Annelise thought as she blinked back angry tears. Curse Quinn! Curse one brother for making her choose and the other for ensuring that she could not remain safely at home! Curse these meddling men who would dictate her fate!

But they were not the ones who would be condemned to live their lives in silence and prayer.

* * *

The house of the Sisters of Ste. Radegund was outside Tulley’s lands, nestled in the forest on the south face of the mountains. It was a secluded place, well away from the traffic and temptations of the secular world.

Once through the pass, the party turned away from the straight Roman road, onto a track that trailed eastward through the woods. The horses’ hooves stirred the snow as they proceeded. Annelise took little interest in their direction, although Yves and the men frequently dismounted and conferred over the trail.

The snow had hidden much of it and Annelise took a grim satisfaction in the inconvenience of delay. She was not in a hurry to begin her life as a bride of Christ, even if it meant spending more time in the cold.

The sky was darkening when Yves drew his steed to a halt once more. Annelise, riding directly behind him, slowed her own beast. Although it had been two years since she had ridden this road, she knew that they had ridden far too long.

She would have expected them to arrive after noon, with plenty of time for the men to ride back to Beauvoir.

But twilight was falling and only snow and leafless trees greeted her sight in every direction. She should have seen the roof of the convent or the plume of smoke from its fires. She might have heard the bells. But only the clatter of barren branches in the wind carried to Annelise’s ears. She shivered and huddled in her cloak, feeling the chill more deeply now that she knew there might not soon be any relief.

“We could return to Beauvoir,” she suggested.

One of the knights snorted and Yves ignored her comment. “I think it must be this way,” he said, and Annelise heard the doubt in his tone.

It was then that the wolves began to howl.

One howled first, far to the left of the path they followed and they all froze at the sound. The call was chilling, and the men exchanged glances of concern.

Then another wolf responded from the right side of the trail. Its cry was much closer than the first and made the hair on the back of Annelise’s neck prickle.

She looked to Yves in alarm. “Surely the convent cannot be far?” she asked. “We could at least seek haven there.”

“In truth,” Yves confessed heavily, “I do not know.” He pushed his hand through his hair, which made him look very young. “The snow upon the path must have led us astray. We should have arrived hours ago.”

“Could we have passed the convent by?” one of the other men asked.

Two more wolves howled. They were even closer, and Annelise could not tell whether they were the same as the first two or not. The sky darkened an increment more.

The autumn had been unseasonably cold, with much early snow. The wolves would be hungry.

All knew they were bolder in darkness.

“Surely, Yves, you have some plan in mind!” protested the third man. “We cannot take shelter in the woods with wolves abroad!”

“I cannot lead you to a hearth without knowing where we are!” Yves flung out his hands in frustration. “Tell me in which direction you would head. My choices have led us far astray.”

They all peered into the woods about them. Annelise caught her breath, for she saw the silhouettes of the wolves between the trees.

Their eyes glowed in the shadows as they watched the party.

She might be fortunate to even reach the convent alive.

* * *

At Yves’ command, the men rallied their steeds hastily about Annelise. The horses snorted nervously, well aware of the scent of wolf in the wind, and stamped with fear.

A wolf howled to its brethren. The horses shied away from the sound. Annelise stroked her mare’s ears, but the beast was oblivious to her touch. Its ears flicked, and its dark eyes were wide. Annelise felt the creature shudder.

“Surely there must be somewhere we can take shelter,” she said, fearing it was not so.

The man beside her drew his blade. “It is too late now, my lady. They are all around us and hungry, unless I miss my guess.”

Annelise looked into the woods, at the pacing shadows of the predators. “We should flee!”

“To where?” the man beside her asked. “Wolves are possessed of an unholy cunning and stamina beyond all. They will separate us and dog our steps until our horses fall from exhaustion. At least one of us will pay the price, to be sure.”

That one of their party—if not more—was doomed to become a meal for these beasts made Annelise’s heart race.

Yves gathered his reins in his gloved hands. When he spoke, his voice was grim. “We must try to outrun them, even knowing that one of us may fall. I remind you all that you have already given your pledge to protect Annelise.”

The men grunted in assent.

“Shall we draw lots or allow Dame Fortune to make the choice?” Yves asked.

The men barely glanced at each other before responding.

“Dame Fortune is my choice,” the man beside Annelise replied. “And let our fates fall as they may. May she not be a greedy wench this night and see us all taken.”

The other two men nodded their agreement, drawing their blades as they watched the wolves’ shadows under the barren trees.

Yves put a gloved hand over Annelise’s and their gazes clung. “I bid you good fortune, sister of mine,” he said softly, “lest I not have the opportunity to do so later.”

Annelise’s heart clenched at the import of his words. She felt the full weight of her guilt. She should never have chosen the convent, not if it meant any of these men should die. “Yves, I never thought...” she began, but Yves tightened his grip over her fingers.

“It is not your fault,” he said, interrupting her with resolve. “I erred in being as stubborn as you in this. In fact, I erred more by leading us astray this day.” His gaze turned resolute and he was once again the young man she had come to trust. “I wanted only to ensure your safety before I left and I was too stubborn to wait for finer weather.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, making the dimple that graced his chin deepen. “Fare thee well, sister mine,” he whispered.

“And may you fare well, also.” Her voice broke, but Yves had already moved away.

“I cannot even count their numbers,” whispered one man.

“And they are gaunt from this cursed winter,” muttered the third. “Mark my words, they will be bold.”

“As shall we!” Yves bellowed. The wolves halted and eyed him warily, their eyes glinting silver. “Away to the right with all speed! We circle back to the road. And mind the lady!”

All four men shouted and gave spurs to their horses at that moment. Their steeds were only too glad to obey the command to run. Annelise’s palfrey raced in their midst, surrounded by the larger horses. The wolves howled and she did not doubt they were fast in pursuit.

She crouched down as her mare plunged into the forest. The snow crunched underfoot as the horses broke trail, their breath billowing steam into the air. She could feel that her mare was running with all her might.

The palfrey understood instinctively that whichever horse fell back would be the first to fall.

Several wolves bayed, and there was the sound of breaking branches. Annelise glanced over her shoulder to see four wolves close in pursuit. She clutched her mare’s reins, her heart in her mouth. Her heels dug into the horse’s side as the wind ripped her hood from her head.

The mare bolted forward and ran alongside Yves’ steed at breakneck speed, her fear ensuring that she left the other three horses behind.

“Flee, Annelise!” Yves cried when he saw her. “Do not wait—our armor will be our doom!” He did not wait for her reply. His hand smacked heavily on the mare’s rump.

It was all the encouragement that horse needed to race even more quickly into the forest, leaving Yves and his men behind.

Annelise was alone!