Be Not Afraid
By Alyssa Cole
4/5
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About this ebook
*New, revised edition, with bonus epilogue!*
Brooklyn, 1776
Elijah Sutton is no fool, despite his love of a country that enslaves people like him. When he's offered land, livestock, and—most importantly—his freedom if he fights in his Patriot owner's stead, Elijah believes he'll soon have everything he ever wanted...and then he meets Kate.
The Crown has promised freedom to slaves who escape their Patriot masters and join the British side, and Kate intends to take them up on it. She's eager to leave America—and the painful memories it holds for her—far behind...and then she meets Elijah.
Their attraction is undeniable, but their goals couldn’t be further apart. When Elijah is captured by the British while helping Kate, they're thrown into close proximity and forced to choose between their hopes for the future and their hearts.
Be Not Afraid originally appeared in the anthology For Love and Liberty: Untold Love Stories of the American Revolution.
Alyssa Cole
Alyssa Cole is an award-winning author of historical, contemporary, and SFF romance. Her books have received critical acclaim from The New York Times, Library Journal, BuzzFeed, Kirkus, Booklist, Jezebel, Vulture, Book Riot, and Entertainment Weekly. She can usually be found watching anime with her husband or wrangling their menagerie of animals.
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Be Not Afraid - Alyssa Cole
Chapter 1
August 1776
Brooklyn, New York
Be not afraid.
Elijah repeated the words to himself as he squatted in the marshy ditch—what was originally a battle cry now a command he forced himself to obey. The man who’d first shouted the words and charged the Redcoats at Boston Common had been courageous, but Elijah didn’t plan on joining him in the ranks of dead Patriot Negroes quite yet. He had come close to it that night, though, despite his intentions.
He gripped the cold metal barrel of his Brown Bess with one hand. With the other, he pulled out a grimy handkerchief and wiped the blood from the bayonet. The Redcoat crumpled on the ground beside him had gasped his last breath only a moment before.
Elijah held no personal hatred for the Brits; he hadn’t pulled away when the ruddy-cheeked man reached for him, fear and desperation in his eyes as his guts spilled out. Elijah had even said a quick prayer over the still-warm body before searching it for ammunition and rations. He had no qualms about the act—the Continental Army was poorly supplied and the lobsterbacks were funded by the Crown. Besides, the body-breaking labor men like him had been born into helped line the royal coffers. The petty theft could be seen as back pay, if one looked at things a certain way. Elijah wasn’t sure that was the right mentality; the only thing he knew to be true was that he needed to be free and no man, Brit or Colonist, was going to obstruct his path now that it was a possibility.
Then why did you run?
Elijah shivered. The late summer night was unseasonably chill, and the wind cut through his shabby uniform, pieced together with other men’s cast-offs, with ease. His breeches had ripped during his flight from the battle, and the cool air gained entrance there as well. He pulled at his ill-fitting jacket, too small to button at the front, and wished he were back at Sutton Farm tending to the horses and their animal warmth. Working with them was the only thing that made him feel at peace.
He shook his head at the indulgent thought.
Back at Sutton Farm you’re a slave, and if you don’t keep fighting you’ll remain one, Elijah chided himself. He needed to stop reminiscing and find his regiment—what remained of them.
The attack on Brooklyn had been expected, given the area’s sparse population, but it still caught the Continentals unawares. When the skirmish had started, for one shining moment Elijah thought they might take the day. Then the Brits had fallen upon them like a wave crashing into the shore, scattering the untrained American soldiers like so many particles of sand. One Patriot turned tail, and then another, and then fight turned to flight en masse as they sought escape from the onslaught of red-coated Regulars. Elijah had been filled with shame as he fled the skirmish, stumbling over the marshy land for who knew how long, but the emotion disappeared when he fell into a ditch and a British soldier tumbled in after him.
He was still alive and the other man wasn’t, and there was no shame in that.
Unhand me!
A common refrain on a battlefield, but the voice that rang out in the still night was much too unusual to go unheeded: an angry, feminine vibrato.
Elijah poked his head up, scanning his surroundings. Night had fallen and thick cloud cover obscured the stars, making it hard to see much of anything. He squinted, wondering if he was simply going mad from fear until he saw the ethereal form burst through the mist-laced trees a few feet away from him. She was tall, perhaps as tall as him, and clad in a long, ivory gown that flowed around her feet as she ran. A hooded cloak obscured her features. When she stopped and turned, the cloak flapped in the wind, revealing a glint of metal clutched in her hand.
A stocky man with a rifle slung over his shoulder stumbled out of the woods close behind her, out of breath from giving chase. The man’s impeccably tailored red coat, fine stockings, and imperious gait advertised that he was a high-ranking officer in His Majesty’s Army.
You’ve caused quite enough trouble tonight, Kate,
the man said between huffs. You’ll return to my tent this instant, before we end up in the thick of the battle.
A squabble with a camp follower, Elijah thought with contempt. He must have run further than he’d thought. He would hunker down until these two took their drama elsewhere, and then attempt to find his way back to his fellow Continentals.
I’ll be damned if I do that,
the woman bit out in a familiarly accented voice. It had the dips and curves of the voices of the older women in the slave quarters, those who had not been born with a shackle linking them to these fledgling colonies.
A gust of cold wind whipped across the marsh, knocking the woman’s hood back, and Elijah felt a tremor run through him that was entirely unrelated to the weather. Her kinky hair was cut short, exposing smooth dark skin pulled taut across high cheekbones and a proud forehead. Her eyes were narrowed and her full lips stretched into a grimace as she regarded the Redcoat who approached her. She was gorgeous in her fury.
Kate, Elijah thought, feeling a strange throb of anger at the dull British name likely bestowed upon her by her owners, just as his had been. It in no way matched the woman before him.
I was told that if I fled my rebel master and joined with the Crown I’d have my freedom,
she said. There was no mention of bartering my body for the privilege. I will work, but not on my back. If you think I traveled this far just to be ravished by some bloody English bastard, you are quite mistaken.
Come now, girl,
the