Chapter 13
Margaretha
From the moment I entered the clearing, I sensed the shift.
Friedrich stood in the shadows of the trees, his eyes holding that same guarded look they’d had when I’d first approached him with my proposal for hunting lessons.
Though he wasn’t back to the prior, aloof Friedrich, it was still a change from his friendly demeanor of last night.
Belinda inclined her head in response to his bow, her eyes dark from her restless sleep. The nightmares were troubling her again, though she wouldn’t admit it. I gave her an encouraging nod as she left to pick herbs, then took a step toward Friedrich.
He folded his arms across his chest. “Did you get any rest after our travels?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“A little.” I smiled back. “And you?”
“Ulrich had me up early with the dogs, but I’ll be well. Shall we begin?” He waved me toward the shooting line, effectively ending the conversation.
I picked the bow off the ground, catching a bit of dirt beneath my nails that made me shiver with the memory of my dream. The narrow, black tunnels. The red-eyed monk. His laughter as the dirt tumbled around me, covering my face—its taste spreading over my tongue and its scent filling my nostrils.
Another shudder rumbled through me, but I pushed the suffocating panic aside, reminding myself it was only a dream.
That I would never be in a dark mine. That I would never be buried alive.
I needed my mind sharp now. Every day brought me closer to when I would leave for Brussels. I was nowhere near ready.
Straightening my spine, I forced my voice to sound light. “I’m glad you took me to meet your friends. They were lovely. I admit it felt like an adventure, traveling dark woods and dressing up as a serving girl.”
Friedrich’s voice held humor when he answered. “No doubt the thrill of playing the peasant would wear off quickly if it were your lot in life.”
“Well, I won’t pretend to be sorry for my fine clothes and plentiful food, if that’s what you mean.” I turned to him. “But there are obligations accompanying a noble’s life that I’d rather do without.”
“Really? Such as?”
Such as the odiousness of my current task.
“I don’t wish to marry for advantage,” I answered, absently twisting the tip of an arrow into the dirt. “I want to choose a man I admire and respect, not just one who’ll provide financial or political gain.”
Friedrich unfolded his arms and took a step toward me, his expression momentarily open, curious. Then he blinked it away as he dropped his shoulder back against his tree. “You want to marry for love? That’s a rather modern idea for a noblewoman.”
“True.” Though the freedom of mind brought about by the Reformation had spread through the lower classes, letting men and women decide on their own love matches, women of rank were still obliged to marry for advantage.
“And as it is my duty as the daughter of a count to benefit his interests, I’ll be expected to make a match helpful to that cause.
Under the queen regent’s approval, of course. ”
Friedrich reached up and snapped a twig from the tree, then ripped the leaves into halves over and again. “So what’s the trouble? There aren’t any men worth loving in your mob of suitors?”
I laughed. “Having no suitors at all, I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
“Perhaps you’ve set your expectations too high. A man writes a poor minnelied and you send him on his way.”
I tilted my head, watching him to know if he spoke in jest. “Should I ever have the good fortune to attract a man of honor, I certainly won’t be put off from him because he fails to write a heartsick poem or dance the galliard.”
Friedrich tossed his pile of torn leaves to the ground while the impression of a smile played on his lips.
“Do you laugh at me?” I asked.
“No, I respect your answer. It does you credit.” He nodded in the direction of the target. “Should we collect the arrows?” Trekking through the underbrush, he left without awaiting my reply.
His response surprised me, and I warmed from the small praise. Leaning the bow against a tree, I followed Friedrich to the target, picking my way through the foliage.
“What about you?” I bent down to collect an arrow. “Paint me a portrait of the future Frau Huntsman.”
“Huntsman’s page,” he corrected, untangling an arrow from a bush. “I haven’t thought on it much. I’m not in a position to make an offer.”
“In a position or not, I can’t believe you haven’t seen a few fr?uleins who excited your admiration. Come. Tell me what she’ll be like. Dark or fair? Thin, or fat from the feasts of her wealthy merchant father?”
“Poor,” he answered. “Poor enough that whatever I provide will feel a blessing.”
I scoffed. “And she’d best be unlearned too, I suppose, so that the knowledge you impart will feel a blessing?” I very much disliked the image of Friedrich with this imaginary woman. “For your sake, I pray you marry someone more learned, wealthy, and attractive than yourself.”
His eyes wrinkled as his lips tilted in a half smile. “Do you think me attractive?”
My face went hot. “Oh! No, I-I didn’t mean .
. . wait, not no. You are attractive. It’s just—I hadn’t meant .
. .” I trailed off, hoping he’d readily jump in to dismiss my awkwardness, but he continued staring at me with that little smirk, as if awaiting an explanation.
I hoped he was disappointed when I turned my back and searched for another arrow, seeing one well beyond the tree and far past my usual range.
Though the distance was impressive, the way to retrieve it was difficult, with grasping holly rising to knee height on either side of a narrow deer path.
I started down the trail, more focused on preserving my skirts than minding my footing, and stepped onto an unbalanced rock, which teetered beneath my shoe.
As the rock tipped to one side, I dropped my arrows in a scattered jumble and fell backward, bottom first, into a thicket of holly.
Each prickly leaf clawed at me, entangling my hair and skirts.
The more I twisted to escape, the more the holly grasped at me, piercing my clothes and flesh.
I was stuck, and as humiliating as it was, I needed help.
“Friedrich!”
His laughter reached me before I could twist my head enough to see him, but eventually he stood before me with one hand cradling his elbow, the other covering his mouth.
He pulled his hand back, opening his mouth as if he might say something, but closed it again and merely shook his head.
Crouching down on the deer path beside me, he drew a short dagger from his boot and pinched a limb with two fingers.
He stretched the prickly limb straight, cut cleanly through it, and tossed it aside.
“You know this is your penance for nearly breaking my rib.” He couldn’t hold back his smile as he sliced through another sprig.
“I think I’d prefer a pilgrimage,” I grumbled. “At least then I wouldn’t have to endure your exultant smirk.”
He chuckled, his breath warm on my neck as he cut a twig from my shoulder. “True. But with you gone, where will I find your equal for such charming blunders?”
Had he just admitted to liking my company? Or was it only a jest? Best to assume he wasn’t serious. “You almost sound as though you’d miss me,” I teased back, rubbing at my newly freed arms to blur the pinpoint pain.
“Maybe I would.” His voice was quiet now, almost earnest, and though I tried to turn my head to meet his eye, the silk cords of my hair netting were still hopelessly ensnared. “Don’t struggle.”
Friedrich tucked the dagger into his boot and reached toward me but hesitated, taking a deep breath.
Avoiding my questioning gaze, he clenched his jaw, again reaching his hands behind my head.
I expected his grasp to be as fierce as his looks, but he surprised me with his gentleness as he patiently pulled the netting loose from the holly.
Neither of us spoke while he worked with his arms around me, his face so near that, even in the shade of the trees, I could see the freckles dotting his cheekbones and a trace of dark stubble shadowing his chin.
Another sprig flipped upward as Friedrich set it free, moving his fingers to pick at the next set of tangles.
His hands on my hair made me shudder, and I closed my eyes, breathing in his now-familiar scent of straw and cloves and listening to his breath beside my ear. It was surprisingly quick and unsteady.
Odd.
I opened my eyes, alert to his every movement as a suspicion formed in my head.
Though he avoided my gaze, he could not conceal the swallow tugging his throat while he pulled the last tangle of my hair netting loose.
He moved quickly to free my skirts, and I leaned forward to help, keeping a keen watch on his nimble fingers.
They were cut and bleeding. And trembling.
I stared at his shaking hands, not needing any experience with men or any explanation from Belinda to understand what they meant.
I had done it. I’d somehow softened Friedrich’s heart of steel enough to care for me.
Instead of my spirits rising with victory or elation, the only sensation I had was cold and leaden, and it took up its familiar place as it slunk down to my stomach.
Guilt.