The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (A Medieval Fairy Tale #1)(13)

“For you, my lord, or for your servants?” Ulrich’s pinched face looked even more pinched, as if he didn’t look forward to eating rabbit stew.

“For both my table and the servants’.”

“Yes, my lord.” His face took on a resigned expression. Then he scowled at Jorgen when he caught him staring at him.

The margrave was looking at Jorgen again, so he went on. “The hinds and their new offspring are mostly accounted for, my lord, but I believe some of the stags may be missing. I also found an arrow that does not bear your red feathers, as well as some evidence of blood on the ground that looks as if someone tried to brush over it with leaves. It appears there is a poacher afoot in Thornbeck Forest.”

The look in the margrave’s eyes sharpened. “A poacher?” He glowered.

“I believe so. If you wish, I can put up a notice in the town center. We can offer a reward to anyone who has information about the poacher.”

The chancellor made a faint snorting sound. “A reward? Don’t you think you are offering the margrave’s money recklessly? You aren’t even certain there is a poacher.”

Jorgen’s face burned. He didn’t want the margrave to think him hasty about offering a reward.

“Perhaps we should wait before offering a bounty,” Lord Thornbeck said. “I think a stray arrow is proof enough of a thief, but look around and see if you can discover any more information about this poacher. Poaching cannot be tolerated. The king’s land, forests, and game in this region are entrusted to me, and it is my duty to see that they are maintained and protected.” He gave Jorgen an intense look, and Jorgen could well imagine why he was renowned as a fierce fighter before he had been appointed the captain of the duke of Pomerania’s guards, and later, Margrave of Thornbeck.

“I trust you to see that this poacher is caught.”

“Yes, my lord. I shall find him and stop him.”



While the maidservant hung the newly cleaned wall hangings, Odette glanced down at the guest list, which would have been impressive if she were looking for a wealthy husband. Her uncle wanted what was best for her. She suspected he wanted her to find a husband and cease poaching, although he had never said so.

The Burgomeister himself had declined Rutger’s invitation due to another obligation, but his son would be there. The margrave’s chancellor was also coming. And she wasn’t sure if she was excited or terrified when she stared at Jorgen’s name on the list.

But perhaps, if she were capable of being cold and calculating about it, she could see her friendship with the forester as a way to keep an eye on what he was doing and find out if—and what—he knew about her poaching.

Uncle Rutger appeared in the doorway.

Odette smiled as he came toward her. “I was just looking at the guest list. At first I thought you invited every wealthy merchant and important official in Thornbeck. But then I realized you only invited the unmarried ones.”

He chuckled. “Odette, you are so fair of face and capable of every duty a wealthy official could want from his wife. I would invite the margrave himself and think he could not choose more wisely if he asked for your hand in marriage.”

Now Odette laughed. “A very pretty speech indeed. I thank you.”

“Are you eager for your birthday party tomorrow night?”

“Of course. But I have something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the man at the Midsummer night festival that you invited?”

“The one you danced with all night?” He raised a brow at her.

“I didn’t dance with him all night. But yes, Jorgen Hartman. I think there is something you do not know about him.” She glanced up at her uncle. How would he take the news? “Jorgen is . . . He is the margrave’s forester.”

Her uncle stared at her. “Did you say he is the forester?” He leaned down, and in a loud whisper asked, “Why were you dancing with the margrave’s forester?”

“I didn’t know he was the forester.” She bit her lip.

“Odette, you’ve been dancing with the devil, and now I’ve invited him to our house.” Even her normally jovial uncle, so full of jesting and humor, looked aghast. “But we cannot tell him not to come. We must be polite and hope he never finds out what a great marksman you are.”

At least he wasn’t too upset to make a jest about it.

“Do not fear, Odette.” He shook his head. “He would never suspect you of anything. You are my niece, a beautiful, graceful young woman who receives at least three marriage offers every month.”

“Not that many.” She often had to rebuke Rutger for exaggerating.

“At least two every month.” He made a gesture with his hand. “Do not worry. You are perfectly safe. You can enjoy his company for one more night and then you will probably never encounter him again.”

She supposed that was true. “I must try not to be nervous around him.” And try not to notice how beautiful his eyes were. Or how deep his voice was. Or how much she liked talking to him.

“The only reason I asked him was because of the way you were looking at him. I was hoping he might be wealthier than he appeared.”

“What do you mean, the way I was looking at him?”

“The way you were looking at each other. But though he is young and handsome, you are above his station in life. He is only the adopted son of the old gamekeeper.”