So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

Mother Ginessa’s eyes glistened with tears as she turned to Brigitta. “I am so sorry, child. I have tried to protect you all these years, but I fear I have failed.”

“Nay, ye’ve always been good to me,” Brigitta whispered. “Please tell me what I need to know.”

“Very well.” Mother Ginessa pulled Brigitta’s hood up to cover her hair. “Ye’re the princess of Tourin.”

Brigitta’s thoughts swirled. “Nay, I—” Her stomach heaved. She leaned over the railing as she lost her battle with nausea.





Chapter Two

Rupert stood in the crow’s nest of the lead pirate ship, using his spyglass to study the vessels in the distance. His own design, the spyglass was better than any other he’d seen on Aerthlan. Not only did it give him a strategic advantage, but it provided some entertainment as well. For he could actually see people’s reactions when they realized a fleet of pirate ships was headed their way.

Some captains and crew scrambled frantically about like a bunch of ants that had just had their ant bed kicked in. Those were usually the Tourinian naval ships, loaded with so much gold they became overly heavy and cumbersome.

King Gunther was too paranoid to have anyone but the royal navy transport his precious gold from the mountainous region of northern Tourin to his capital of Lourdon in the south. He’d equipped each of his naval ships with a dozen or more cannons, figuring that would keep anyone from attempting to steal his gold.

Rupert had been proving him wrong for seven years.

Now, as he watched the three Tourinian naval ships, he noted how easily they maneuvered around the lone Eberoni vessel. Obviously, they were not burdened with gold. No, they were on a different sort of transport mission—abscond with the Tourinian princess and deliver her to her older brother, Gunther. Already, they had launched a dinghy that was headed for the Eberoni ship.

Fortunately for Rupert, he had a spy who worked with the carrier pigeons at the Tourinian royal court. Whenever Gunther had a message sent, Rupert received a copy of it.

Unfortunately for Rupert, he and his fleet had been farther south, so it had taken longer for the message to reach him. But with a strong wind at their backs, Rupert’s fleet had managed to arrive just in time.

Why? he wondered once again. Why was Gunther reclaiming a sister who had been declared dead years ago?

Was she truly alive? Rupert had read the message at least ten times before daring to believe it. She must have spent the last nineteen years in hiding. Just like him. The prospect that she’d also survived was more exciting than he cared to admit. He’d immediately headed north to see if she was, indeed, alive. And to capture her for himself.

For the ransom, he thought, correcting himself. She was nothing more than a tool that would allow him to torment her bastard brother and steal more of his gold.

“Have you spotted her yet?” Stefan yelled from below. “Will you even recognize her?”

Rupert winced inwardly. “I will.” Somehow.

Stefan’s dubious snort was his only answer.

With a groan, Rupert shifted his gaze back to the Eberoni naval vessel. How would he recognize a woman he hadn’t seen since she was a babe? Hopefully, she’d be the only female on board. That would make it easy.

Holy crap. There were five—no, six females crowded on the quarterdeck with the Eberoni captain and two of his crew. Even worse, the women were all dressed exactly alike. Cream-colored woolen gowns topped with plain brown cloaks, the sort of clothes worn by nuns. Had the so-called princess been hiding in a convent all these years? If so, she’d brought half the damned convent with her. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Stefan asked.

“Nothing.” Rupert quickly studied the lineup. The women wore their hair plaited in a single braid down their backs. The first one had black hair speckled with gray. Another one had the white-blond hair and pointed ears of an elf. The next one looked like a Norveshki with her wild red hair slipping free from her braid. Three down.

The fourth woman was making the sign of the moons and appeared ready to faint at any moment. She looked Tourinian with her blond hair and pale skin, but she seemed a bit too old to be nineteen. The girl next to her looked a little too young. Black hair.

Dammit, what color hair did the so-called princess have? The last time he’d seen her, she’d been bald. And about two feet tall.

“Well?” Stefan called. “Do you see her?”

“I’m working on it.” The sixth woman stood by the railing with her hood pulled up over her head. Suddenly everyone on the quarterdeck turned toward Rupert’s fleet, and the captain lifted his spyglass.

“They’ve spotted us,” Rupert warned his old friend.

“Is the princess there or not?” Stefan asked.

Indeed, that was the question. For if she wasn’t, Rupert would turn his fleet back south. He focused once more on the woman by the railing. She had to be the one.

He tapped into his power. It swirled inside him, gathering energy as he inhaled deeply. Then he released his breath slowly, aimed straight at the sixth woman. As the air traveled, it became a wind, growing stronger and stronger till it buffeted against her, knocking her back a step and whisking the hood off her head.

Holy Light. It was her. Brigitta.

“Well?” Stefan asked.

“She’s there.” She’d grown up well. Extremely well. “Holy crap.”

“Why the foul language?” Stefan chuckled. “Is she still bald?”

Rupert forgot to answer as he studied her through the spyglass. He forgot to think. Or even breathe. A few tendrils had escaped her long blond braid to curl about her heart-shaped face. Pale, creamy skin, high cheekbones, rosy cheeks and lips. Her eyes, they were as beautiful as he remembered.

With a quick intake of breath, he closed his eyes. Dammit. He didn’t want to remember anything from that horrific day. It was the stuff of nightmares that had haunted him for the past nineteen years. Even so, for the few seconds that he had gazed upon the baby girl, life had seemed … perfect.

At the age of three months, she’d lain in a fancy white crib, festooned with ribbons and lace, and when she’d peered up at him, he’d been surprised by her eyes. Not only big, but a brilliant shade of turquoise. Were they the same color now? He opened his eyes and readjusted his spyglass.

“Why aren’t you answering?” Stefan called, then lowered his voice. “Is she that ugly?”

She was more beautiful than ever. “She’s … tolerable.”

Brigitta. Rupert had been almost seven years old when he’d first met her, but he’d thought she was the most angelic baby he’d ever seen. A sense of peace had enveloped him, an odd but certain feeling that he’d found the one who would share his destiny. So he’d leaned over the crib to give her a smile.

Unfortunately, she’d reacted by spitting up milk all over herself. He’d been surprised that a baby’s stomach could hold that much milk. It had kept coming and coming.

Back on the ship, the oldest nun said something to Brigitta as she raised the hood back over her blond hair.