Lady's Ransom (The First Argentines, #3)

Hunting was not a sport Ransom had done much of, but he did have good childhood memories of riding in the royal woods with his mentors, King Gervase and Sir William Chappell. She packed two bows, one for each of them, as well as bedrolls so they could camp beneath the stars. They set off midmorning, heading northeast into the wooded peninsula that was a dedicated hunting land for the rulers of Legault. Their knights had previously scouted the area to make sure no one had created any forbidden dwellings in that land.

Claire wore a blue-green hunting cloak over a pale blue chemise, and a quiver was strapped to her back, full of arrows with dark fletching. Ransom kept staring at her hair, brown or red depending on the light, distracted by it as they rode deeper into the woods. The ancient trees towered above them, large crooked branches and a canopy of leaves protecting them from the sun.

After midday, they stopped to feed their horses and eat the provisions that had been packed for them. After that, they began to hunt.

They’d tethered their horses in a glen and set off searching for beasts, Claire impressing him with her silent stalking as she ducked beneath branches and crept around rocks, an arrow fixed to the string of her bow. He followed suit, holding her father’s bow in his hands. The air was pristine, smelling of the dense undergrowth and rich soil, and fat jackdaws squawked in the branches overhead while bushy-tailed squirrels clambered up the massive trunks. He reached out with his Fountain magic and felt no danger anywhere. The peacefulness of the place stirred emotions of gratitude and contentment in him.

She gestured for him to halt as she came up behind a tree. He did as she asked, listening to the trickling sound of moving water. The source, he discovered when she waved him forward, was a fresh spring in an enormous pond covered with lily pads. Wildflowers grew in patches of sunlight nearby.

“This is where the moose elk come to drink,” she whispered in his ear. “We’ll wait here. They get thirsty in the afternoon and come to the pool.”

She nestled down in the thick meadow grass, resting her bow on her lap. He sat by her, hearing the clicks of insects and smelling the breeze.

“I used to come here with Da,” she said, her voice soft. “I loved going hunting with him. It’s been too long.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. They sat like that for a long time, listening to the frogs croak in the pool and the shushing water, watching as the sun began to crawl to the west.

“There’s one,” she whispered at long last, her eyes fixed.

Ransom had seen elk before, but none like this. Instead of elk horns, it had the wide horns of a moose, with jagged prongs that looked wickedly sharp. The bull crunched through the terrain to their left, then began to gulp from the pool. Claire grinned at him. That monster could feed an army.

She rose slowly, carefully, and lifted the bow. He did the same, coming around the other side of the tree. A branch snapped beneath him, and he looked worriedly at the moose elk. It didn’t even flinch, though, unaccustomed as it was to the presence of danger.

Claire pulled the string back and let her arrow fly, hitting the moose elk in the shoulder. The animal groaned and began to charge away, the arrow jutting from it, but Ransom lifted his bow and took a shot at it. His arrow went true and hit one of the hind legs. The moose elk fell in its flight and began thrashing while he and Claire hurried toward it.

“First shot!” she cried excitedly. “I haven’t lost it entirely!”

They had to stay at a distance to avoid its massive antlers as it twitched and thrashed. After hurrying around to the other side of the beast, Claire shot it again in the neck to end its misery, killing it instantly.

“How are we going to get that back to Connaught?” he asked her, shaking his head. “It’s too heavy for both of our horses.”

“We won’t need to take it far,” she said. “But let’s gut it first so it doesn’t spoil.”

“Not far?” he asked with a chuckle. “It’s half a day’s ride back to Connaught.”

“We’re not going back to Connaught tonight,” she said, giving him a sly look.

He wrinkled his brow. “Oh?”

“I failed to mention, deliberately, that there is a hunting lodge we’ll be staying in. I sent Keeva and two knights ahead to make sure it was still there. It was undisturbed, unlike the castle. Keeva told me yesterday it was cleaned up and ready for us. They’ll bring a wagon for the moose elk in the morning. All we need to do is have the horses drag it to the lodge.” She walked up to him and cupped his cheek. “I wanted to surprise you.”

He set his bow down and embraced her. “You did indeed. A hunting lodge?”

“Yes, but first I want to show you something. The barrow mounds. How I’ve wanted to share these memories with you! Come on! Let’s clean the animal quickly.”

“And we’ll leave the carcass?” he said, gesturing at the dead elk.

She knelt down, withdrawing a knife from the sheath at her waist, and prepared to make the incisions. He lowered onto his haunches next to her. He’d butchered a few animals before while hunting, but never one this big.

“There are no bears or wolves in Legault, Ransom. Just badgers, stoats, and foxes. The most dangerous creatures in this land are men. And the most dangerous of them all is you.”

After a bit of work, they removed the entrails and tossed them farther away. The smell would attract foragers. After they finished, they cleaned their hands and knives in the pool.

“Come, my love,” Claire said. “Let me show you.”

He did, and they left their bows and quivers near the kill and followed the edge of the pool hand in hand. She kept looking at him expectantly, smiling, and his heart ached with the wonderful pain of loving her. It felt as if they were alone in all the world.

After walking around the pool, they entered the woods on the other side. The Fountain magic started to churn within him. He could sense something ahead, not a person—a place. A prickle of warning went down his back.

“Are the barrow mounds that way?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the feeling.

“Yes,” she said, smiling at him.

After passing through a screen of ancient trees, they arrived at a small man-made clearing carved into the forest. It appeared as if a patch of trees had been uprooted, their stumps removed, and a large mound of dirt stood where they once had. A few small saplings had sprung up, but they were much smaller than the remaining trees. At one end, facing them, boulders had been gathered at the base of a hill. Some had been set vertically, forming a little doorway. It was so narrow, a person would have had to walk sideways to enter it. There was a cave of sorts beyond, beneath the dome of the hill.

He swallowed, feeling the sensation of Fountain magic crawling up his arms, making his skin pucker with gooseflesh.

This had a similar feeling to another grove he’d visited, the one in Brythonica.

It felt dangerous.





The hunting lodge wasn’t despoiled after all. I’d tried not to hope for a bit of good luck. Wishing for luck never helps. But two good things have come to pass—Lord Toole replied by messenger that he’d accept the role of sheriff, and Keeva told me the lodge is clean and intact. A day or two is all it will take to furnish it and make it a proper dwelling for us. The castle, of course, will take much longer.

I’m eager to surprise Ransom. He’s been working so hard since we arrived. The lodge might not be much, but it will be a good start for us, for our marriage. And truthfully, I cannot wait to be surrounded by the woods instead of cold palace walls.

But before I take him to the lodge, I intend to take him to the barrow mounds. There are many in Legault, but this one is for the kings and queens of Legault. In Gaultic, it’s called the Elf Barrow. It is where my mother’s bones lie.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Ruins, the Fair Isle





CHAPTER THREE


The Elf Barrow


Are you afraid?” Claire asked. She held out her hand with a mischievous smile.

Ransom stared at the dark gap in the stone and felt another shiver go down his back. Something in the air whispered of warning, of danger.

“What’s in there?” he asked her.

“Just bones, Ransom. With my people, we don’t send corpses to sea on boats. They are burned on a pyre, and the bones are brought to the barrow mounds. This is where my ancestors are buried. Where my mother rests.”