They Sent a Knight to Fetch Me, I Kidnapped Him First novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Royal Abduction
Seravelle refuses Othriel's public claim and declares her escort kidnapped; she cuts her own ceremonial ribbon to escape.
The knight Seravelle had kidnapped asked whether she intended to steal his lunch as well.
She tightened the crimson ribbon around his sword belt and the handle of her cheese bag.
"That depends on your cooperation," she told him.
He looked at the ribbon, then the open palace gate.
"My sandwiches are in the other saddlebag," he said.
"You have tied yourself to the cheese."
Behind them, somebody shouted for the princess to stop.
Seravelle lifted her chin toward the gathered wedding guests.
They were not actually wedding guests, which was the problem.
Prince Othriel had invited them to witness his successful courtship.
He had forgotten to invite her to accept it.
His white coat glittered at the top of the steps.
"My bride is overwhelmed," he announced to the courtyard.
Seravelle raised the ribbon so everybody could see her prisoner.
"Your visitor is leaving," she called back.
"With a hostage."
The knight touched the ribbon with one gloved finger.
"Caedrin Veyrhold," he supplied quietly.
"If you intend to announce me."
"I have abducted Sir Caedrin," she told the guests.
An elderly courtier began to clap before his wife stopped him.
Othriel came down two steps and spread his arms.
"Dearest, you need only tell me what you want."
"A different conversation," Seravelle replied.
She had told him that twice during breakfast.
He had answered by choosing music for their entrance.
Now his musicians had reached the gate ahead of her.
Their fiddler lifted his bow, waiting for the prince's signal.
Seravelle pointed at the road instead.
"Play something for an abduction," she instructed him.
The man considered his instrument, then began a brisk country dance.
Two palace guards stepped aside to let the musicians through.
Caedrin watched them leave with the concentration of a man revising a bad plan.
"May I release my sword now?" he asked her.
"No heroic rescue attempts," she warned him.
"I meant from your ribbon."
She looked down at the elaborate knot.
It had begun as the sash across her ceremonial gown.
She had cut it off when Othriel called her his future wife.
Her mother had not approved any marriage.
Her sister had not approved the scissors.
That made two family opinions she could address later.
"A captive should not carry a weapon," Seravelle told him.
Caedrin unbuckled the entire belt and offered it to her.
The sword pulled her hand down to her knee.
The cheese bag struck her other shin.
Othriel stopped smiling at the crowd.
"This is becoming a misunderstanding," he said.
"It was one before I found the scissors," she replied.
The knight took his sword back before she dropped it.
He slid the ribbon through an empty loop instead.
"You may retain that," he told her.
"It will be less expensive if you pull."
A waiting groom led two horses toward the steps.
Seravelle recognized her own mare and reached for the reins.
Caedrin placed his hand over the knot before she mounted.
"You will need to release the horse," he said.
"She has not consented to being tied to mine."
The groom coughed into his sleeve.
Seravelle untied one end and tucked it into her belt.
"You are a very particular hostage," she informed Caedrin.
"I was appointed your escort this morning," he said.
"The particularity was included."
For one moment, the courtyard noise fell away from her.
He had not called her overwhelmed, difficult, or confused.
He had heard her say she was leaving.
She looked directly at his steady gray eyes.
"Will you stop me?" she asked him.
"There is no order to confine you," he said.
"Only to bring you home safely."
Her mother appeared above Othriel on the steps.
The queen wore no ceremonial sash and looked entirely awake.
Beyond her, under the stable arch, Seravelle's sister Ilysanne was strapping a packed traveling bag behind a saddle.
"Seravelle," she called, "you owe your sister an answer."
Seravelle swung into her saddle before the guilt could settle.
"I shall send one," she called back.
Caedrin mounted beside her without any help from the groom.
Othriel reached the horses, still attempting his generous smile.
"Where shall I retrieve you, my dear?" he asked.
Seravelle caught the loose end of her crimson ribbon.
"Ask the musicians," she said, and rode through the gate.
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