Sage: Medieval Romance Beauties With Blades Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dearest Reader

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

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  Sage

  Beauties with Blades™ - Book One

  by

  Laurel O’Donnell

  Copyright

  Sage Copyright © 2021 by Laurel O’Donnell. Beauties with Blades™ Trademark & Copyright © 2021 by Laurel O’Donnell.

  Visit Laurel's website at: www.laurel-odonnell.com

  Cover Art Illustration by The Midnight Muse

  Edited by -

  Brynn in Santa Cruz

  Erica at Quillfire Author Services

  All rights reserved. No part of this historical romance ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its author, Laurel O’Donnell. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work and do not encourage or participate in electronic piracy. Your support of the author’s rights, and hard work creating this book, is greatly appreciated.

  The characters and events portrayed in this romance novella are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dearest Reader,

  Thank you for reading Sage!

  In the medieval ages, Latin was the primary written language. Since this book centers around reading and writing, I have taken creative license and used the modern alphabet in place of Latin. In doing this, I hope to simplify the coded manuscript for your reading enjoyment. So please suspend your disbelief for a short while and join me on Sage’s adventure.

  Welcome to my world!

  Prologue

  1294

  Chateau le Bezu, France

  “Remember what I taught you,” a soft voice echoed through the cavernous room.

  Sage Hawke leaned over the wooden desk to be closer to the old book. Flickering flames from the torch ensconced on the wall behind her cast light over the thick parchment pages.

  She traced one of the swirling letters, awed by its beauty. She knew that together the letters formed words, but she didn’t recognize any of them. Her brow furrowed in frustration.

  Brother Nicolas sat in a rickety chair beside her. His long, brown monk’s robe was as worn and comfortable as an old blanket. Books were piled around them, stacked in rows against the stone walls.

  What he taught her, Sage’s mind repeated. And then, like a lifting fog, the letters came into focus. The. She knew that word! “The,” she exclaimed proudly, pointing to the word on the page. She looked at Brother Nicolas, beaming in victory.

  He nodded, his wrinkled cheeks curved in a smile of satisfaction. “That’s right.”

  Sage turned back to the book with newfound confidence. “I can read!”

  Brother Nicolas chuckled softly. “You recognized one word. That is not reading. But it certainly is a start.”

  “Sage!” her sister’s voice called firmly from the doorway.

  Sage glanced over her shoulder at Raven. Her sister’s black hair hung in waves about her shoulders like dark clouds. Raven was nine summers, only two years older than Sage, but thought she was in charge.

  “Father’s waiting,” Raven said impatiently.

  Sage knew he was, but she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to look at the books. She wanted to learn to read.

  “You’re going to get into trouble,” Raven warned.

  Sage scowled desperately at Raven and then glanced back at the letters filling the parchment pages. “Just one more moment,” she pleaded. She poked her nose closer to the pages, longing to decipher one more word.

  Raven left the room.

  “Sage,” Brother Nicolas murmured patiently. “Your father wants to leave.”

  Sage sighed, frustrated. She knew it was time to go. But she needed one more minute, one more second, to figure out another word.

  “You can come back another time. I will gladly teach you more,” he said kindly.

  She studied him with anguish. “What if you are not here when we come back? What if you are gone?” Her lower lip pouted. “Like Mother?”

  “Sage.” Brother Nicolas reached for her sympathetically, but she squirmed out of his grasp. “We all die, my dear.”

  “But Mother left us,” Sage said, puckering her face in disapproval and crossing her arms.

  “She was very sick. She would have stayed with you if she could have. She loved you very much.”

  Sage’s lower lip puffed out farther, but she faced him. “What if you get sick? What if you are gone when I come back?”

  Brother Nicolas sighed. “If I am gone when you return, I’m certain the next monk can teach you.”

  Her lip quivered, and she gazed desperately at the book. She ran her hand over the animal skin parchment reverently. The letters were so permanent. They were always going to be there.

  “Sage,” a deep voice beckoned from the doorway.

  Sage glanced up to find a tall, imposing man standing in the doorway. He cast a long shadow into the room. His brow furrowed in displeasure. A day’s growth of beard covered his square jaw. His dark hair hung in thick waves to his strong shoulders. His leather armor fit snuggly over his torso and hips, with metal studs lining the edges. A sword was strapped to his waist. She bowed her head.

  “It’s time to leave,” he said sternly.

  “Yes, Father,” she whispered and turned away from the books. She took a step toward the door but then stopped and faced him with a lifted chin. “I would like to learn to read.”

  Raven gasped behind him.

  Her father scowled in confusion. “Read? You have no need to read. All that you need in life is a strong blade for protection. That will get you further than reading.”

  Sage felt tears rising inside her. She loved the books—the feel of the leather cover, the parchment pages. But mostly, she loved the longevity of the works. They would not leave her. But even more appealing was the secrets they held. She loved decoding the puzzles that reading offered her. It was more important than sword skills.

  “Come,” he commanded.

  Sage cast one last glance at Brother Nicolas. Compassion shone from his old eyes, and his lips thinned in resolution. He gently closed the book she had been looking at.

  He wasn’t going to help her.

  She turned and moved to her father’s side, downcast. He was her family, and his word was law. “Yes, Father.”

  Chapter 1

  October 5, 1307

  France

  The air in the main room of the inn was tense, filled with expectation. The scent of body odor and cooked duck permeated the space. Five men leaned forward o
ver one of the wooden tables in the center of the room; their gazes focused like pinpoints on the hand holding the dice. Two of the men were farmers, two were travelers, and the last was the toothless innkeeper who sat atop a wobbly chair.

  Sage Hawke shook her hand, making the dice she held clink together. Her analytical mind had already worked out all possibilities of the die roll. They had been playing for three rounds. There was no way she was losing this round; the odds were in her favor. She glanced across the room where her oldest sister, Raven, sat alone, quietly drinking ale and observing, her eyes casually shifting from person to person. Her dark hair was plaited into a braid, and she wore leather armor and a sword strapped to her waist.

  Sage held the die for a moment longer to build anticipation, her gaze traveling from one man to the next. Then, she let the die fly across the table. The square cubes rolled, clunking on the wooden tabletop as they tumbled.

  The door opened. With a gust of wind, Sage’s younger sister, Willow, entered. Some of the male patrons glanced at her. She pushed her blonde braid over her shoulder and walked up to Sage’s side.

  Sage saw her in her peripheral vision but kept her focus on the die.

  The blocks slowly came to a halt.

  The toothless innkeeper smiled and nodded his head eagerly as the rest of the men groaned and shook their heads, mumbling their disbelief.

  Sage reached forward, a grin of triumph on her lips. How foolish these men were. It was almost too easy for her. She wrapped her arms around the coins in the center of the table.

  The innkeeper caught her wrist as the men around them dispersed. “My winnings,” he reminded her.

  “Half of it,” she agreed. “The rest is mine.” Sage slipped her wrist free of his hold and pulled the coins to her.

  He nodded greedily and watched her split the coins.

  Sage handed him his winnings.

  He smiled a toothless grin at her. “Nice doing business with you.” He cast a glance at Willow and stood, moving toward another table.

  Sage untied a bag from her belt and opened it, scooping all the coins carefully into the bag. Then, she tied it and attached it to her belt. She glanced over her shoulder at Willow. “You’re back early.”

  Willow had been with Christian Sterling, a family friend of theirs, tending the wounds he had received in a sword fight at the back of the inn.

  Willow bent to her and said quietly, “I want you to look at something.”

  Sage stood, looking at her sister with concern. Willow was beautiful. Tiny blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were blue and wide and sparkling. The men noticed, and Willow knew they did. She used her beauty to her advantage.

  “Are you well?” Sage asked with worry.

  Willow nodded and led Sage from the inn. She guided her around the side of the wooden building where moonlight lit up the yard.

  “What is it? Did Christian hurt you?” Sage asked, ready to take off his head. Although Christian was a longtime family friend, they hadn’t seen him for years until this night.

  Willow stopped and whirled. “No! No.” She looked one way and then the other, making sure there were no others around. She reached inside her armor and pulled out a pouch. She untied it and removed a small book. It was about the size of her hand.

  A book! Shocked and intrigued, Sage hungrily took it. She inspected the little, black leather-bound book, opening it and examining the parchment pages. Books were rare, and it was even rarer for Willow to have one as she had never shown interest in them. “Where did you get this?”

  “Christian gave it to me,” Willow answered. “Can you read it?”

  Sage stopped at a random page and scanned it, longingly drawing her finger over the parchment. How she wished she could read it! She could recognize simple words like “to” and “in.” But none of the letters formed any words she knew. She shook her head in frustration. “I can’t read. You know that.”

  “You can read some things. More than me, anyway.”

  “Nothing like this.” She flipped through the parchment pages carefully. It might as well have been in a foreign language. “Why would he give you a book? He knows you can’t read.”

  “He can’t read either. Maybe he found no use for it.”

  Sage lifted her gaze to her, her brow lifting doubtfully. That didn’t make sense. Why would he have a book if he had no use for it?

  Willow shrugged. “Maybe he knew I’d give it to you.”

  Sage glanced around, expecting Christian to be hiding somewhere. “Where is he?”

  “He left.”

  “He handed this book to you and left?” Sage asked suspiciously.

  Willow nodded.

  “Is he coming back?”

  Willow half shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean...I really have no way of knowing. He didn’t say he was.”

  Sage stared at Willow for a long moment. Something was suspicious. Why would Christian give Willow a book? It would mean nothing to her. But it meant the world to Sage. The book beckoned to her, and she looked at it again.

  “We should probably figure out what it says. Do you know anyone who can read the book?” Willow asked.

  Sage looked down at the letters on the parchment page. Already, her mind was trying to solve the puzzle, to sound out some of the words. “Possibly. Remember Brother Nicolas from Chateau le Bezu?”

  Willow shook her head.

  “It was a long time ago, and you were young. Chateau le Bezu is only half a day’s ride from here. Father is working on a job and won’t be back until sunset tomorrow.” She stroked the black leather book admiringly. “We could be back before sunset, and he would never know.”

  Willow was silent for a long moment.

  The silence stretched until Sage looked up at her.

  “Father will not be pleased if he finds out,” Willow said carefully.

  Sage’s lip curved up into a grin. “We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find out.”

  “What about Raven?”

  Sage bit her lower lip as she considered what to do about Raven. Her older sister was a stickler for rules. Raven always followed their father’s orders. Sage shook her head. “She won’t like it.”

  “No,” Willow agreed. “And we shouldn’t tell her about Christian. She won’t approve. She never liked him. We can tell her I found the book.”

  “Good idea.” Sage agreed and looked down at the book. She eased it closed and put her hand protectively over the cover. “We could go without her and—”

  Willow shook her head, frowning in disapproval. “We have to tell her. She’ll want to come with us.”

  “No. Absolutely not,” Raven said, crossing her arms as she stood outside the inn, facing her sisters. “Father wouldn’t want us traveling the roads without him.” Raven stalked across the yard toward the wooden stables. Her black braid swung back and forth behind her as she moved as if it were a finger wagging negatively.

  “He doesn’t have to know,” Willow pleaded, following her across the yard.

  Sage reluctantly trailed, holding the book to her chest. She had known Raven would react like this. As the oldest of the sisters, Raven had always been second in charge, behind their father. Raven was used to Sage and Willow following orders.

  Raven whirled on Willow. “Don’t you think Sybil will tell him we didn’t help her with the harvest and that we were missing for an entire day?”

  Willow cast an imploring glance at Sage for help.

  “We’ll make something up,” Sage told her. “That we were out hunting.”

  “All day?” Raven asked in disbelief. She put a hand on her hip. “And what do we say when we come back with nothing?”

  “We didn’t find anything,” Willow added to the story.

  Raven’s eyes narrowed. “And you think Father will believe that?”

  No. Sage knew Father would never believe that. Raven was an excellent hunter. Still, Sage was not put off. She had the answer. They just needed to tell their father w
hat he would believe. “We got distracted practicing.”

  Willow nodded enthusiastically, grinning. “We could stay an extra day and help Sybil with the harvest. It will work! Please, Raven.”

  Raven shook her head. Her dark eyes pinned Willow. “Why is this so important to you?” she demanded. She jerked her head at Sage. “I can see Sage being so adamant, but you? You want us to ride an entire day for some old monk to read a book? You’ve never cared about a book before. What do you think it’s going to say?”

  Sage had been asking herself the same questions. She knew Willow secretly harbored feelings for Christian, but she wasn’t sure that was the cause of Willow’s interest. There was something Willow was not telling them. But Sage didn’t care. It was nice to have one of her sisters as interested in a book as she was.

  “I don’t know,” Willow admitted. “But aren’t you curious?”

  “No,” Raven insisted. “I don’t care about a book. I’d rather be practicing. Or doing something that will help me hone my skills. And you should, too.” She looked at Sage. “Both of you.”

  Raven was so much like their father. Sometimes, it boiled Sage’s blood. “Books are important,” Sage asserted. “They hold knowledge, and knowledge is power.”

  “I don’t want that kind of power. It’s dangerous.”

  “That’s Father talking.” Sage lifted her chin and ran a hand over the black leather of the book. Raven would never understand books. Not the way Sage did. They held knowledge; they held secrets. “I want to know what it says. And I’m going to le Bezu whether you come or not.”

  Willow gaped in disbelief.

  Raven’s lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell Father.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going.” She brushed past Raven and marched toward the stables. “You do what you have to.”

  Willow stood indecisively for a long moment. Then, with a small sigh, she hurried after Sage.

  Raven cursed quietly and followed them into the stables. “This is not a good idea.”

  The three girls moved to the stall where their horses were stabled.

  Sage smiled to herself. Victory. She had always allowed Raven to lead, never standing up to her. It felt good to take charge for once.