 
Guardians

of the

Kingdom

Diana Flame

GUARDIANS OF THE KINGDOM

The Veiled Territories – Book 1

Published by Yorkside Press

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2018 by Diana Flame

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without the expressed permission of the author or publisher.

Edited by Angela Haworth

Jotzy Creatives

For information contact:

Yorkside Press

York Hill District, Seaforth P.O., St. Thomas, Jamaica W.I.

www.yorksidepress.com

admin@yorksidepress.com

Author contact:

www.dianaflame.com

books@dianaflame.com

https://facebook.com/dianaflameromance

Once upon a Kingdom...

Contents

Introduction

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

Books by this author

Connect with the Author

About the Author

### Introduction

The Veiled Territories

In the land of the Veiled Territories lives the Kisalese people. The land consists of twenty-eight kingdoms divided by East, West, North, and South. A race similar to humans – yet somewhat different - is separated by hierarchy.

A kingdom divided will fall. One of these kingdoms must face the test of its strength. Can it withstand the evil within its own walls?

A secret that could ruin an entire kingdom brings a king to his knees. While a war threatens in the battlefields, a conflict that could cause the fall of the most powerful kingdom of the north region transpires inside the palace.

For thirty years, Gerdan rebels tried to conquer the kingdoms of The Veiled Territories. The rebel king laid siege on the east and lost the battle with Prasia and Loekem. Just when all seems quiet, Gerdan rebels attack Cronada of the North. Word across the Cronada Kingdom is that the Gerdanians have found the Jewel of Power, which now gives them new courage. It is believed that the one who possesses such a jewel would rule all.

Gerdan, one of seven kingdoms in the north, now ruled by a rebel king, is determined to bring down all the other kingdoms to achieve the world power. More than twenty years have passed since the rebels invaded the Gerdanian king's castle and forced him to abdicate the throne. A rebel, a netherbred, now rules as king of Gerdan.

With Gerdan's star warrior missing, they strongly believe he is captured by the Cronadians. Gerdan's rebel king bravely challenges King Syreus of Cronada to battle. When King Syreus refuses his challenge, the Gerdanian rebels invade, forcing the king to war.

However, the Cronadian king holds a trump card – the Fire Knight. Legend has it, the Fire Knight is endowed with magical powers. No one knows whether or not that is true. Yet, one gifted the most magical beast throughout all the land must mean the legend is true, doesn't it?

What the king doesn't know is that there are others destined to save Cronada. The Guardians they are, empowered in their unique strengths, gifted by the Gods.

The King of Cronada may win the war with Gerdan, but can he win against his greatest foe? Will the enemy inside the palace bring the kingdom down or will King Syreus prove to be the formidable opponent everyone knows him to be?

**Veiled Territories** – 28 kingdoms divided into 4 regions (east, west, north and south).

**Race** – Kisalese

**Description** – Dark brown skin, small pointed ears, almond shaped eyes. Eye color of all types. Hair color of all shades.

**Function** – similar to humans

**Housing structure** – similar to humans

**Food** – species specific
Kingdom Hierarchy

Royalites **:** The king and those who would inherit the kingdom should the king die – such as the king's siblings, parents and children born in wedlock. Only immediate relations can automatically inherit the kingdom. However, should the king die without an heir or immediate relative, a new king can be appointed from either distant relations or new nobility. Royalites and half-royalites receive the highest level of education available.

**Half-** Royalites **:** A child born in wedlock between a royalite and noblite – such as a princess and noblite.

Noblites **:** Royal relatives outside of the immediate royal family - such as cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, second, third, fourth and generations beyond. Noblite education is second to the royalites.

**Halabreds:** (hala for short): An illegitimate child of a noblite or royalite, born out of wedlock where there is no hope of both parents getting married. If the parents should marry after, then the child becomes noblite or half-royalite (depending on situation). These children are trained to serve the royal family and noblites as chambermaids and servants. They can also become soldiers, knights or ministers and work in any position within the castle walls and palace. They are educated but minimally. They can also marry a noblite or netherbred, but never a royalite.

**Netherbreds:** (nether for short): Also known as lesser borns (a derogatory term). We know them as peasants - not born of nobility or royalty. Cannot live or work in Kingdom City, unless summoned by the king or his ministers. They can peddle in the city market place as cobblers, merchants, silversmiths, jewelers and farmers or whatever skills they ply. They cannot marry anyone above the halabred class. Nethers are not expected to be educated, but are skilled at their chosen professions.

**Dergabreds:** Also called derges (derogatory term). Children born to a netherbred mother and noblite/royalite/hala lover. An outcast due to the nature of the relationship, which could never be legitimized. Usually, children born in these situations, their mothers are believed to be drabbeliers (whores). Dergabreds are considered bottom of the barrel and even some nethers see them as outcasts. If the king is found to have been with or impregnated a nether, he will face dire consequences.

_The mating and wedlock laws - north of the Veiled Territories including_ Cronada

A king must never take a netherbred lover even as a concubine. A king can never impregnate a netherbred or he must abdicate. A king can take a halabred lover but can never make her queen or lady in waiting.

If a noblite falls in love with a netherbred, he can petition the council for a permit to marry and so the netherbred will automatically elevate in status. However, since this is a prohibited marriage, the council may arrest the noblite for interfering with the wedlock decree. Because of this, no noblite has ever petitioned to marry a nether.

A halabred can marry a netherbred freely but must now reside outside the palace and live as a netherbred. In Cronada, halas consider themselves superior to nethers and to date, no halabred has openly wedded a nether. There have been a few instances where halas and nethers have run away together.

A dergabred can never marry above his/her class except a nether.

_Military laws – north of the Veiled Territories including_ Cronada

Concerning the status of soldiers and their role in protecting the king, soldiers are drafted from noblites and halabreds.

A netherbred can become a soldier, especially during the time of war. If the royal council decrees that soldiers are needed to aid in the war, they will draft from the nether townships. These soldiers will remain as reserves or may petition to join the regular army after the war. If granted to join the army, they will shed their netherbred status if they are promoted to Lieutenant and above.

Knights are classified according to rank. First Class knights are those with the most experience, specialized combat skills and have been recognized as a hero by the king. Second Class knights are expert swordsmen, but do not necessarily possess any extraordinary skills and have not achieved any special awards. Third Class knights are those in training.

A nether soldier can become a knight after being promoted. Knights are usually noblites or half-royalites who are trained specifically for the knighthood.

A First Class knight or General in the army can take any nether and train them. If a First Class knight takes a nether to train as a knight, that nether will automatically shed the.

_1162 – Kingdom of_ Cronada

King Syreus scanned the map of Cronada Kingdom, spread across the long metal table in the center of the military meeting hall. The commander of the guard, General Hedgewick placed a white pebble on each secured fort along the kingdom's border. On the garrisons still under construction, he indicated with a dark gray pebble.

In the room were about twenty men, including the king's most trusted generals, three knights and two ministers. The others were commanding officers of the different divisions of the Cronadian army.

"We are reinforcing the forts along the coast of Cronada and the Sea of Zunzt, my king," the general said.

"We will also secure the settlements with fortifications," the king replied.

"But sire, only the nethers and derges reside outside the city walls, and we have already reinforced the strongholds here."

The king looked sharply at the general, his deep sea green eyes glinting. "Have you forgotten that half a century ago, all men were considered netherbreds until the people cried for a king? The same blood runs in all our veins."

The room fell silent as the general shuffled uncomfortably. A few of the other officers' eyes fell to the floor as the king cruised their faces. The Prime Minister, standing at the opposite end of the table, held the king's gaze with a smirk on his face. King Syreus lowered his voice as he returned to the General of the Royal Guard.

"These are still my people and I will not leave them to the mercy of the Gerdanians. You will follow my orders and fortify these townships."

"Your wish is my command, my king," Hedgewick replied.

The rebels of Gerdan were cause for concern and he would not leave the people of Cronada to their mercy. As far as he recalled, there were more than three hundred thousand netherbreds living in thirty townships across Cronada.

In the king's mind, these people were of the utmost importance to the kingdom. Without them, there would be no food, clothing and weapons. The nethers produced every morsel on the royalite and noblite table. All the silversmiths, swordsmiths and blacksmiths were indeed of this class. Their skills were of great significance to the survival of Cronada.

General Hedgewick addressed the king. "What will happen when the rebels realize their Black Knight was not taken by us?"

The king had a feeling that he knew who was responsible. The Knight of the Phantom Dragon may have vanished more than two decades ago - a knight who betrayed the king and disappeared. However, taking a star warrior from a rebel camp was his modus operandi. The Black Knight of Gerdan was missing - disappeared into the night air like a ghost and no one knew where he was. There was only one such warrior capable of doing such a deed. However, it couldn't be, as this warrior was no longer serving the king.

The king's gaze fell on the map as his mind drifted to his confidant and trusted Fire Knight - a young knight who was more like a son. Could it be him? He was a fierce combatant with such capabilities. Still, entering the rebel camp and snatching their most ferocious warrior beneath their noses? Did he do it?

"My king?" the general's call broke through Syreus' thoughts.

"Yes."

"We will secure the coast with a strong contingent, fortify the hamlets as well. All netherbred men under thirty five have been drafted into battle."

The king nodded. "Hmm. What about those robust enough to fight over that age?"

"They will stay inside the fortresses and safeguard the women and children."

For the first time since the hour-long meeting, the king relaxed his shoulders. "Well done, General."

"Sire," asked a deputy commander as he approached. "About the troops from the east - any word?"

The kings of Prasia and Loekem had fought and won the war with the rebels. With this in mind and the fact that the rebels had murdered the only son of the Prasian king, Syreus requested aid. The Fire Knight should return soon with reply from Prasia.

"I am still awaiting word," the king replied. "But I do believe I will find favor in King Konush's eyes."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Make sure the river is also secure. We can't have the people without water," the king added. "The rebels will come from the mountains and plains. Drive them back to the Dark Serpent Valley. There will be the battlefield ... contain them there."

"Will they not come by sea?"

The king eyed the young commander. "The rebels in their haste to conquer Gerdan, set afire the ships of their king. They have not rebuilt the ships since."

"You know many things about these rebels, my king," the deputy beamed.

The king sighed. It was all thanks to a secret messenger whom he'd never seen. Who was he that knew the king's secret passage? It was two weeks to the day and he was getting ready for bed. The flame of the oil lamp flickered twice before going out. As he moved to relight the lamp, the hairs on the back of his neck stood erect. He stiffened and waited, but nothing happened. When he relit the lamp, there was a note wrapped in a rock on his desk.

His head whipped around, perusing the room. No one was there. The first instinct was to alert the guards, but something held him back. Curious, he picked up the note and unfurled it. _"The_ Gerdan _rebels are planning to conquer_ Cronada _. Come to the secret passage door."_

Quickly snatching up his sword, he moved stealthily toward the door. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"I am a loyal servant of the king," a voice said through the door.

"How did you get in?" the king pressed. "Identify yourself or I will alert the royal guards."

"If you do that, Your Majesty, you will never know what the Gerdanians are plotting against the kingdom."

"Speak."

It was unusual for a king to have consulted with an invader in the palace. Yet, he'd listened and agreed with the secret messenger that he could visit him with news whenever necessary.

"I shall return with more for you, King Syreus," the spy-messenger had said. "I will whistle three times and knock the secret door twice after midnight. Hence you will know it is I."

Since that night, the messenger had returned several times with news of the Gerdanians. Through him, the king learned many of the Gerdanians plans of attack, when they will attack and via what route. Because of this information, the king was able to make a treaty with the rebels. They would fight an organized war, the way kingdoms fought and if Cronada should lose, the kingdom would belong to the Gerdanians.

Regardless of the fact that someone breeched security to enter his chambers, King Syreus was grateful for the spy in the Gerdan camp. On the last night the messenger came, they made a pact.

"The war is at hand and I am needed in battle," he said. "I shall return."

"I am most grateful for your assistance," the king said. "Everything you have told me has come to pass. Name your wish and it shall be granted."

There was a moment of silence and then the messenger spoke. "On the day I make my request, you will promise to hear it. That is my current wish."

"Yes, but how will I know it is you?"

"On the day you hear these words, you will know it is I," the voice had said. "Quench the fire in the dragon's eye."

"Quench the fire in the dragon's eye?" the king repeated.

There was silence and he knew the messenger was gone. Those words now played in the king's mind as he waited for the day to hear them.

_Netherbred Township of_ Frogsgrave _... one month later_

The day was like any other. Feeding the animals, cleaning house and helping with the farm was Catrain's daily routine. As the golden sun slowly sank behind the Black Eagle Mountains, she cast her eyes across the late afternoon sky.

In the open field in the center of the village, children played. Their laughter and voices a welcome sound to the noise of battle. Catrain smiled. The children were innocent, unaware of the war.

On her way to fetch the final pail of water and to take a well-needed bath, she took a different path than the one she used earlier. This route led to a special place she adopted as her own. Although this was her umpteenth journey to the river since daybreak, she very much looked forward to this trip. Fetching water for the cattle, cleaning the house, and cooking were duties that were part of her daily chores. This trip was her luxury.

Caring for the animals and tending to the house made her quite grimy and smelly by the end of the day. Taking a bath was a necessity. As she made her way upstream, she turned her face up to the sky, trying to catch the final rays of sun before it disappeared.

The Silver Stone River separated Frogsgrave from the Phantom Shadow Forest. Beyond the forest was Kingdom City. Making her way to her favorite bathing spot, she wondered what the city was like. She'd heard of it but had never gone beyond the edge of the forest on the opposite bank of the river.

Having an overprotective father and an equally paranoid uncle, made for a dull life, she thought. Catrain could not understand their paranoia. They often told her that her leaving the village was unsafe for her. Yet, the other girls often visited the marketplace inside the city. Anyway, now that the war had begun, thanks to those darn rebels, she had to agree that no one was safe. Thinking of the Gerdanians caused her blood to boil.

During the day, the battle cries could be heard from a distance. Now, the clanging of swords had ceased for the day. Even with the silence, Catrain's father had warned her to stay away from the section of the river nearest to the battlefield.

Since he was gone to another township to peddle his produce, she was free for three days until his return. She hated the section of river nearest to her village. Because it was better for swimming, she liked upstream the most.

Most days, she waited until the evening lull to make her rounds with the water. Today was one of those days. She stopped to listen and heard no sounds. The usual screams of the men in agony had paused for the day. With the silence from the cease of battle, she deemed it safe to venture out.

The village and surrounding areas were fortified, but she knew that the rebels might find a way into the forest. She was not afraid, yet it paid to be careful. Her uncle Brogue told her that his brother perished in a previous war. He refused to say which war it was. She believed it was with the rebels when they stormed their king's palace and forced him from the throne. From what little she knew of the Gerdan war, Cronada had sent reinforcements to assist the true Gerdan king.

Enraged that the rebels might have been responsible for her uncle's demise, Catrain paused and stomped her foot. The straw sandal she wore came loose.

"Augh!" she moaned. "Bloody rebels."

The war was unravelling not only her shoe but her mind as well. Now that there was a new war, the young men were drafted into battle, and men like her uncle and father remained behind as reserves. Soldiers often patrolled, and her village, so far, faced no problems. The men of the township took turns watching by night, even though the borders were secured with the king's army.

Many of the women knew how to fight as well, which was more than Catrain could say for the noblite women in the palace. As far as she heard, all they were good for was attiring themselves in fine clothing and painting their faces.

Anger at the Gerdanians rose like bile to her throat. If she ever got her hands on one of those rebels, she would tear him to pieces with her bare hands. Picking up her sandal, she moved off again.

"Argh," she grounded her teeth as she stomped forward on the narrow path.

A soldier on horseback cantered towards her and she veered off the path, not wanting him to detect her destination. He would certainly disprove of her going upstream by herself. Dodging behind a tree, she waited until he was out of sight before getting back on the track.

When she reached her destination, she paused, deeply inhaling the fresh evening air. The rays of the setting sun gleamed off the water surface as tiny ripples made for a prismed effect. Being cautious and remembering her father's warnings, she took a moment to peruse her surroundings. When she was certain she was alone, she pulled her dirty frock over her head, then removed her flimsy knickers, throwing them on a wild binjou bush.

Her fingers brushed the fire aranitite pendant hanging from a leather cord around her neck. Her father told her that this was her protection. It was placed around her neck when she was a baby, and since then, it has always remained there. Heeding her father's words, she never removed this jewel. He'd warned her that she must keep it hidden lest anyone should see it.

As she headed into the water, Catrain's tiny ears twitched, the points erect in attention. Did she hear a sound? When she cocked her ears to listen, there were only the chirping crickets along with the sound of toads. Absently, her hand came up to touch the pendant. The evening sun gleamed off the surface, igniting the stone like an ember. As always, Catrain smiled whenever she witnessed its beauty.

Satisfied that she was alone, she waded into the river. The cool water refreshed her, relaxing her from a day of tedious chores. For a moment, she wished she were one of the noblite maidens in the castle – if only to use a perfumed soap.

With her vivid imagination, it was easy for her to picture the women with their scented oils and soaps. This was her one wish, that one day, she would be able to acquire one such scented soap and bask in its wonderful odor. Having only ever smelled such a soap once, she never forgot the sweetness. Omedipe, a girl from the village, had brought a small piece from the marketplace and had shown it to all her friends.

Closing her eyes, she imagined she was one of them. Running her hands over her body, she used her cheap homemade soap to wash herself. All the while, she pictured that she was lathering with perfumed soap.

Slowly, she ran her hands over her breasts, feeling the nipples hardened beneath her touch. It was always amusing to her how her body responded to her ministrations. On the water's surface, she floated on her back, her eyes still closed while her hands continued to cleanse her naked body. Her golden hair splayed like a large fan around her as she basked in the glow of the evening sun. Tentatively, her hands traveled towards the V between her thighs. About to wash her secret place, the points on her ears stood up like antennae. She was certain she heard the whinny of a horse. She stood still, listening for the sound again.

The distinct whinny of a horse startled her. Water splashed all around sending her sinking to the bottom of the pool. With the skills of a good swimmer, she quickly regained her balance and surfaced. Not stopping for anything, Catrain waded to the bank of the river and ran to the binjou bush. Grabbing her garments, she dashed behind a tree. With heart pounding, she donned her clothing.

Peering from her hiding place, Catrain watched as a horse and rider emerged from the trees a few meters away. Her mouth gaped, recognizing the tunic of the horseman. It was evident by the special insignia on his shoulder that he was the king's most valuable weapon.

There he sat astride his steed, as arrogant as she'd heard of him. Her heart deafened her as curiosity and some amount of dread washed over her. Her fear wasn't of the man himself, it was the eyes of his mount that made her stare in awe. Those eyes reminded her of the gemstone she wore. The fire aranitite resembled that of a glowing coal and so were the eyes of this beast. She had heard of the dragon-horse as a child. A horse that was not quite 'ordinary', but one with magical powers.

The one known as the Fire Knight, the fiercest warrior of the king sat upon such an animal. She often wondered why he was titled the Fire Knight. Now she knew why. The fact that the knight's title and her gem bore a similar name did not escape her. Catrain smiled.

"Netherbred, be gone from these parts. This is the king's private property." The knight spoke, his voice deep and rich.

Catrain cringed as her chest tightened. She thought she'd hidden well. Apparently she'd been discovered. Her heart was beating at an unsteady pace as her knees became gelatinous.

Evidently, she'd ventured beyond the public designation and into the forest kept for the king's pleasure. Before the war, she would often watch from a distance whenever the royalites and noblites went hunting. This forest was where the husky-bear pig and the tiger nose chicken were commonly hunted. Bravely stepping from her hiding place, she straightened her back.

"Yes, my lord," she replied, bowing slightly. "Pray pardon my insolence. I only came to take a wash and fetch me some water."

"Isn't the river the same downstream?"

Catrain was about to turn away, but the harshness of his tone stopped her. "Not so my lord, it is not," she replied, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"You dare argue with me, nether?" he admonished, obviously agitated with her. "Do you have any idea to whom you speak?"

This knight was certainly as arrogant as they came. His attitude further irritated her that she could not hold her tongue. Her fiery spirit made her a good warrior as well. She could hold her own against any man. For the first time since the encounter, she lifted her head and looked directly at the man. He was the king's most loved knight and he was the warrior everyone talked about and feared. However, as she looked at him, her mouth fell open.

She had always thought he was older. Now, looking at him revealed otherwise. Yes, he was about ten years her senior, but he was still youthful for all the stories she'd heard about him. So many victories he'd won since his formative years. Her uncle Brogue told her many such stories, especially of the war many years ago, the one in which she believed her other uncle perished.

"The name is Catrain _sire_ , not nether," she boldly stated, her earlier fear dissipating. "I may be lowly born, but I am still Kisalese." The shocked look on the knight's face made her giggle.

"You mock me? How dare you!"

She grinned, amused to see she had riled the mighty Fire Knight. She took the opportunity to examine him. His angular jaw tightened as his hazel eyes blazed with obvious ire. A soft breeze rustled his long shiny brown hair. Quite a strapping fellow ... what broad shoulders he had.

"Sir, that would be loutish of me to mock you," she dared to smile. "Your disdain toward me is quite notable, yet we are the same flesh and blood. We may be from different loins, but is it not the same color liquid that runs through our veins?"

"You dare to compare yourself to the king's knight?" his voice dripped with a note of incredulity.

"I said no such thing, Sir _Knight_ ," she refuted. "I said we are same flesh of flesh and blood of blood. If we both bleed will the blood differ?"

The knight was surprised at the lesser born's intellect and her boldness to even make eye contact. Who was this damsel? Her argument was that of a learned noblite, yet, she appeared to be a lesser. Was he mistaken?

There was something about her that made him take note. Never since being knighted has anyone outside the palace dared argued with him, let alone boldly stare him in the eye. A spark of intrigue excited him. This further infuriated him.

He could never be intrigued by such a female. There were dozens of women within the castle who would be happy to please him. Yet, here he was, sitting astride on his steed, being challenged by a mere farmer's daughter - a lesser, no doubt.

"I am Rulf, the Fire Knight - a half-royalite," he muttered under his breath. "Men fear me, yet she does not?"

In one smooth movement, Rulf slid from his stallion Osorus and strode over to where she stood. As he advanced, he expected her to cower. She stood steadfast, her eyes never leaving his face. This strange occurrence threw him off guard. Clenching his jaw, he set his face and proceeded. A thrilling feeling ran up his spine as he menacingly stepped in her direction, his face darkening.

He came within inches of her that he could smell the commoner soap she used to wash. Her faint female scent was also pleasing to his nostrils. Surprised at his own reaction, he stepped back to avoid the distraction.

Her wide eyes stared up at him as he faced her. The color of them was unusual. Never had he seen eyes like these. _Purple ... violet ... what are they?_ He pondered. _Violet_ , he decided.

Apparently, she was not daunted by his stature, even though he towered her greatly. Many men had trembled at his mere presence, but not this girl. He hated to admit it, but he was indeed intrigued by her. For the first time, Rulf felt vulnerable as he stared into her violet-like eyes.

"You dare argue with the king's knight? Do you not fear for your life?" he growled, trying to get a grip of himself.

His heart skipped a beat and then began an erratic ticking. Utterly new to Rulf, this unusual phenomenon shocked and then incensed him. The sensation that rushed through him alarmed him as well. It was unlike the fear of when he met an opponent in battle. This was something new and utterly sensational.

"I meant no disrespect my lord, I only stated the facts," she replied, her voice like honey.

"Tell me your name again so I will not forget this day - the day a netherbred dared argue with me."

"The name is Catrain, my lord." She curtsied.

Catrain _._

He made a mental note of her name as his eyes traveled over her heart-shaped face, pouting lips and those eyes again. When he thought he'd had enough of her face he caught sight of the hair. The evening sun glinting off golden tresses was a vision in itself. Giving himself a mental kick, he silently repeated her name.

Catrain _._

The name was unusual for a farmer's daughter. His eyes cruised her frame, wondering if perhaps he had been mistaken about her. No, she was a netherbred all right. The worn smock and rough fingernails told it all. She was definitely not of noblite or hala birth. With his mind settled, he turned, striding back to Osorus. As he mounted and guided the beast into a canter, her shout made him pull up short.

"And your name sire, so I will not forget the day the Fire Knight watched me while I washed!"

His back stiffened. The animal stood still, perhaps sensing his embarrassment. Slowly he turned, his eyes blazing.

"What said you?" he hissed.

"I knew you watched this netherbred, while she bathed in the river, my lord," she retorted, holding his gaze.

Rulf dismounted. Straightaway a manservant took Osorus' reins. The knight's stride was purposeful and strong as he made his way to his living quarters – his residence located north of the city.

Kingdom City was an expansive castle, fortified and built to protect its residents from invasion. Five hundred years ago, after the wedlock and mating laws came into effect, the noblites slowly moved in, creating a city for noblites and royalites, leaving the netherbreds in the outlands.

The king's palace sat almost in the center, surrounded by the knights and ministers' residences. On the outer sections near the forts, were the soldiers' barracks and servants' houses.

The city square consisted of a marketplace where merchants were allowed to trade. Located in the marketplace was the produce market, a smith shop, cobbler and a theatre.

Rulf clenched and unclenched his jaw. As he hurried to his chambers, with each hurried step, his thigh muscles rippled under his chainmail pants. He wore this gold and black knight's fittings only while on special mission. His regular tunic was black and silver, distinguishing him apart from knights of a lower rank who wore blue and black. Whereas the other knights' crest was of a crescent moon, star and sword, his was of fire and sword.

It was while returning from Prasia of the east, when he stopped to water Osorus. The last thing he expected to see was a female bathing in the river. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would be treated with such indifference by a mere nether. Yet the image of her firm breasts and long legs were imprinted in his memory. As the late evening sun kissed her brown skin, it glowed like fire rock under the full moon. He was surprised to see a naked woman and had not wished to alarm her, but Osorus had sensed his unease at watching her. The memory of her hands as they ran themselves over her body was branded in his mind.

Ulrich, his personal manservant, took his sword and tunic and told him his bath would be ready in a moment. While he undressed, he pictured Catrain undressing him the way she had perhaps undressed herself. This made him angry and he swore under his breath.

"Is everything alright, my lord?" Ulrich inquired.

He nodded, waving away his servant while sinking into the warm water. The bath was relaxing but his mind was still seared with the memory of her feistiness and beautiful face. Never had he seen beauty such as hers, not even at court. She wore no rouge on her lips and cheeks, but her naturally glowing skin, luscious lips and violet eyes were simply delectable.

The women in the castle, both noblites and halas, were indeed beautiful and he could bed anyone he wanted. In fact, he had bedded quite a few eager ones. Nevertheless, there was something about _this_ damsel, Catrain, that stirred him. This was what upset him the most.

"She is but a netherbred, a lesser!" he said aloud.

The hierarchy of women in the kingdom made for where they lived or served. The royalites were at the highest rank – living in the palace. Then there were the noblites who were the distant relatives of the royalites. Chambermaids and servants in the castle were mostly illegitimate children of royalites and noblites.

Netherbreds were not fit to work in the palace and no knight, who was of noble blood, would look upon one as a potential mate. It was possible to marry one if the knight was born a lesser and moved up the ranks. Even more so, it was against the law for those of royal birth to have children with a netherbred. Children born to noblites who mated with a netherbred were deemed outcasts and treated with contempt.

The marriage law could be changed by the king, but he would need the vote of two council members to do so. In Cronadian history, no Cronadian king or noblite had ever married a netherbred, though in other kingdoms, this archaic decree had been outlawed.

Cronada was one of the few kingdoms which upheld the ancient laws of wedlock. If any royalite was caught impregnating a netherbred, or vice versa, there could be dire consequences. Some thought this was unfair since most knights and soldiers took the women in the villages as lovers. There were even rare cases of noblite women with netherbred male lovers.

Rulf was a knight of the highest order – a fifth generation knight. Rulf's mother was the Princess of Tyrebia, one of the kingdoms of the West. His father was a noble knight of Cronada. This made Rulf a half-royalite.

One could be lesser born and become a soldier. In order for that one to become a knight, he would need to move up the ranks and be recommended for knighthood by a high ranking knight or royalite. After knighthood, he would no longer be deemed a netherbred, but he could never marry a royalite.

"Sire?" Ulrich interrupted his thoughts. "What troubles my lord?"

"Nothing ... just _business_ ," he replied.

The bath had gone cold and he eased himself from the tub. Ulrich handed him a large towel in which he wrapped himself. For some time, he paced the room, trying to rid himself of thoughts of the netherbred.

The more he thought of her, the more his blood ran hot in his veins. The intense heat inside him from thinking about her made him sweat, his heart galloping like his stallion. He badly needed the attention of the female species. The tautness in his neck and back was nothing compared to the tension in his loins. Perhaps what he needed was release. Yes, that's why she aroused him so.

The thought brought another spurt of rage coursing through him. _Arouse?_ Try as he might he could not deny that thoughts of her naked body had sent fire shooting through his body. The moment he'd seen her in the river, his member had stood erect like a lamp pole. Even now, he could feel the fire coursing through him at the very thought of her.

Dropping the towel at his feet, he looked down at himself and grunted. Yes, if only he could relieve himself, perhaps, he would rid her from his mind. And he knew the one to do it. The Lady Guinevere was a perfect choice.

Donning his night robe, he scrawled a note which he handed to his manservant with instructions for delivery. She was his latest conquest and the one he liked the most amongst the women in the palace. He liked her the most because she was obedient and always willing to please him. She would never dare argue with him the way the nether had. Tonight, he needed someone to dominate and he knew she would comply with his demands.

A smile played on Guinevere's scarlet lips as she took the note from Rulf's manservant. With deft fingers, she tore the seal with a beam, warmth in her cheeks. Soft baby blue eyes regarded the flashy scrawl on the square of papyrus. As she waved Ulrich away, her blond curls shimmered, tendrils brushing her rosy cheeks. Rulf was certainly the romantic, she mused. As she scanned the contents of the note, a crease entered her usually smooth forehead.

"He wants me to wear a nether's frock when I visit him tonight?"

This seemed a little extreme. She was in love with the man and would do almost anything for him, but this was beyond what she'd imagined romance to be. Nonetheless, she complied and borrowed her chambermaid's frock. It was nothing like the clothing netherbreds wore, but it had to suffice. She covered it with her overcoat and snuck out of her room when the halls were quiet.

The yard was dark and lonesome except for a single night guard. The guard ignored her as she waited for her transport to arrive. The carriage pulled up shortly and she entered. Rulf's residence was within walking distance of the palace, but given it was late, she preferred the ride there.

Rulf's chamber was almost in darkness except for one flickering candle. As she entered, she adjusted her eyes to the dim light. He stood by the bed in his robe with his arms akimbo. She dropped her coat and crept toward the bed.

As she neared him, Rulf dropped his robe and a gasp escaped her lips. The ripped sinewy muscles of his torso always amazed her. Her eyes drank in his gorgeous anatomy – the dips and curves of his chest and belly, the tapered waist and powerful thighs. Her eyes glued to his manhood, which beckoned to her with its large bulbous tip and long thick shaft.

His tension was severe, sending ripples of excitement through her. Her body throbbed with the need of him. Excited, Guinevere started untying the bodice of the maid's dress, but Rulf stopped her.

"Halt!" he commanded. "Tonight you do as I say."

Lady Guinevere nodded in delight as her hands dropped to her sides. She was thrilled at the game he was about to play. In two strides he was before her, his face set in a hard line.

"Tonight your name is Catrain and you will be my slave."

As he spoke, he grabbed hold of the dress and ripped it down the middle. Guinevere's eyes widened. Quickly, she regained her senses and her hands came up to cover herself in mock fear.

"Please, my lord," she said, hiding her spilled bosom. "No, my lord."

"On your knees, nether!"

Without delay, she fell to her knees, looking expectantly up at him. Glaring down at her, he placed a hand on her head and guided it toward his erect member.

"Now you will please me Catrain, and you will do it until I am very happy with you."

"Thy wish is my command, my lord," she acquiesced.

Rulf shoved her head until her lips touched the tip of his manliness. Taking him into her mouth, slowly she descended its length. Up and down she slid her lips, stopping briefly to lick its tip with her hot wet tongue. Then she circled the ridge with the tip of her pink tongue. Rulf growled as he pictured Catrain servicing him, sending waves of pleasure through him.

"That will teach you!" he murmured.

Guinevere paused, racking back on her heels. "My lord?"

"Continue, netherbred!"

Gripping her head hard he pushed his hips forward, shoving his member into her gaping mouth. She inhaled him deeply, almost gagging. As he hit the back of her throat, he swelled. The lesser born's smile flashed across his face as her violet eyes bore into him. What unusual color eyes they were. He moved his hips again, as he squirted his hot, creamy fluid.

A gurgling sound brought his attention away from golden waves and deep brown skin. He looked down at the woman kneeling before him and his cock pulsed for the final release. The shock of seeing a round face framed by blond curls caused him to shrink. Guinevere's eyes squeezed shut as streams of tears ran from their corners.

His sudden withdrawal from her caused her to fall back on her backside. He turned and picked up his robe from the bed. Guinevere was sputtering as he pushed his arms through the robe sleeves and tied the string at his waist.

"You'd better return to your dwelling and see about that throat," he commanded. "Be gone, lesser."

As Guinevere returned to her bedchamber in the middle of the night, she pondered what just happened. Rulf was usually an ardent lover, but he was always attentive to her needs. Not this night. He barely looked at her and didn't even touch her. He'd dismissed her like a common drabbelier (whore).

How dare he treat her this way? She was King Syreus' cousin who was more like a niece! Everyone considered her a royalite. Her love for him gave him no right to treat her in that manner. Yes, she knew he said it was a game but it felt all too real. She wondered what happened to him to cause him to behave in such a crass manner. As she settled into bed, she determined to find out why Rulf seemed angry. Why was he so cold toward her? Why didn't he satisfy her the way he used to?

King Syreus paced the expanse of his great room. A pair of eyes followed him as his robe of scarlet velvet and gold fur swept the marble floor. The king felt the eyes of his Second Minister upon him as he pondered the situation before him.

"My king, what troubles you?" the minister asked.

The king turned and strode back to his dais. "I have been concerned about the responsibility of getting these women betrothed."

"Yes sire, but what can we do?"

"They have been entrusted to me and I have failed them."

"No, Your Majesty, we are in the midst of a war. You haven't even had the time to breathe."

Syreus shook his head. "It's been seven months since they arrived, and with the soldiers coming in from the east, I cannot have them roaming about freely."

The minister slowly nodded. "The women are not in danger from the soldiers, my king."

"These men from the east, they don't know our laws, Aldridge. They don't have the hierarchy we do."

"Are you saying they would seek to court our noblite women, sire?"

"Or worse," he bemoaned.

Minister Aldridge's eyes widened. "They wouldn't dare!"

"You can't be sure of that, Second Minister," Syreus said. "I need to remedy the situation before they arrive."

The king was greatly worried about the women in his care. Three of the late queen's cousins, two of his own relatives, and daughter of his great aunt's brother were entrusted to him to find suitors. It's been seven months since they'd arrived and he hadn't been able to get any of them affianced. His relatives were looking to him to keep his promise to have them spoken for.

He'd made the declaration when they arrived that they were to be courted by the royalite or noblite men of Kingdom City. So far, no one had announced an engagement.

"I will have to take matters into my own hands," the king muttered. "Send for the Prime Minister."

The Second Minister immediately moved away and hurried to the exit. He had just opened the door when the king's most trusted knight appeared in the entrance. The minister smiled as Rulf bowed out of respect.

"Minister, I was about to seek council with the king," Rulf said.

Aldridge stepped aside. "I think the king needs you, Sir Knight."

As Rulf entered the room, the king's face displayed his delight at seeing the young knight. The minister slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

"Come my boy," Syreus called to Rulf.

The knight went down on one knee and began to speak.

"Stand, for God's sake," Syreus ordered. "No one is here but us two."

"My liege...."

"You're of royalite blood, stop kneeling to me."

Rulf reluctantly stood to his feet. "My king, you must allow me to do my duty to you. There are those who would use whatever opportunity in order to destroy you. I won't allow it."

"You keep talking in riddles, Rulf. Who wants to destroy me and why?"

"I am investigating the matter...."

His speech was cut short when the door opened and a man in a red and yellow robe appeared. The king held up his hand and the man halted, waiting by the door.

"The Prime Minister has arrived. We will talk about that some other day. Now, I want to know if you have decided to wed any of the women I introduced to you."

"No, Your Majesty. I have no interest to be wed at this time."

"Very well."

"I have news of the arrival of the troops from Prasia and Kyoden," Rulf continued. "They are but two days away."

The king nodded. "That is good news. I must move quickly to get the women out of the city before they arrive."

Syreus raised his hand and beckoned to the minister standing at the door. The man moved smoothly forward, as though gliding on water. Both the minister and Rulf sized up each other. It was obvious there was no love lost between the two.

Syreus watched the exchange and wondered why they didn't get along. The Prime Minister was the chief council of the court, although he trusted Aldridge, the second minister more. There was something about Prime Minister Cronus that Syreus could not put his finger on. Perhaps it was that ever-present smile, or his black beady eyes that reminded him of the Red Witch of Devils Valley.

"I will take my leave, my king." Rulf bowed.

"Don't go too far, I will need you hence," the king replied.

Syreus watched Rulf hurry out of the room. His love for the young man was evident in his eyes. The king wished he had a son like Rulf. He sometimes worried that he would die without an heir. His queen Elspeth had passed two years ago without bearing him a child.

There was ample opportunity while the queen was alive to take a concubine, but he refused. After what happened many moons ago, he had shut himself off from giving in to anyone but the queen. Even she didn't have all of his heart, but he never wanted to feel the heartbreak of losing in love again. Even now, with the queen dead, he hadn't taken a new queen or lover.

He gave himself a mental shake from the past and addressed the minister.

"Gather the single men of Kingdom City in the throne room as soon as possible. The women entrusted to my care must also be present."

"What are you planning, sire?"

"A marriage meeting of sorts. As you may recall, they arrived here seven months ago to be courted by our noblite and royalite men. Just do it right away," he ordered in a gentle manner. "There is no time for delay."

"Your wish is my command, my king," the Prime Minster said with a bow.

Lady Guinevere had been waiting six months for Rulf to propose. It had become clear that his interests lie elsewhere as he would bed a different female every night. Sometimes the woman would be of noblite birth or lower status chambermaids, it didn't matter so long as he had someone to warm his bed. She'd known that about him, but it hadn't mattered to her.

The night after he sent for her, the servant of one of the other ladies in waiting was seen coming out of his chambers early that morning. Since then, it seemed that his interest was only in the halabreds. Guinevere knew he would never marry a mere hala since the knight was half royalite, but still, it hurt that he'd basically ignored her since then.

She still had not fully recovered from her night with him. After she had serviced him, he sent her back to her room without so much as a goodnight kiss. Her body had ached to be ravaged but he seemed more interested in the help than with her. The man was clearly insatiable. Obviously, she could not please him and had not made him happy.

She was pondering her situation in the private garden behind the palace when a messenger approached. The king had bidden her. Usually, when summoned by the king, he would meet them in the throne room. This was where he took all his public meetings. The private halls were reserved for him and his most trusted ministers. There was one special room where he met with all his knights.

Guinevere followed the messenger to the king's hall. Six other noble women were present as well as a contingent of army officials, knights, and other noblite men.

"Your Majesty," she curtsied.

The Second Minister Aldridge stepped in front of the gathering. "King Syreus will now speak."

Everyone present fell silent as all eyes trained on the king. Syreus rose from his chair, turned to the group of women with a smile. He then walked a few paces, facing the men.

"Now, if any of you men wish to take any of these women into wedlock, now speak."

Gasps rang through the group of women while the men shuffled uneasily. A few whispers went up as the king looked from male to female with a look of expectancy on his face.

"Now, don't be shy," the king cajoled.

A Second Class knight stepped forward and strode to the group of women. Once there, he knelt , reaching his hand out to a shocked female. Shyly, she glanced at the king before taking the knight's hand. Two other men stepped forward and did the same to two of the other women.

The king called for other men to step forward but none did. Guinevere searched the men for the face of Rulf but he was not present.

"Very well, you are dismissed," he told the men. "I wish to speak with the remaining women alone."

The men filed out, along with the three couples who were now proposed in marriage. As soon as the door closed behind the group, the king spoke.

"It is my duty to find you suitable husbands and I have failed you. But, not to worry, I have found the answer."

"My king, what is your solution?" Guinevere ventured.

The king smiled at her. She was his great aunt's granddaughter. Therefore, she was like his own niece. Guinevere knew the king loved her a lot and wanted to please her.

"Be ready by sunrise. You will be heading to King Christoffle's castle where his brothers will court you. Do not return until you have been proposed."

She had confided in him about her feelings for Rulf. Now why was he forcing her to go on this trip? Did Rulf say something to the king? She knew they were close and the king must have asked Rulf about his feelings.

Guinevere was confused. If the king was sending her away to be courted by one of King Christoffle's sons, it meant that Rulf did not intend to marry her.

There were a few snickers and some giggles, but Guinevere frowned deeply. "Your Majesty..." she started to say, but the king held up his hand.

"No need, my dear. No one has come forward to claim thy troth. Hence, you will obey. This is an order, my dear."

_No one, meaning Rulf_ , Guinevere interpreted.

They were given strict orders not to return without being promised. This displeased Guinevere and she sought out Rulf after leaving the king's hall. She must make one more attempt to see if perhaps she misunderstood him. Maybe he was waiting for a sign from her, even though she thought she'd given plenty. What if he didn't know about the courtship declaration the king had made?

After leaving the king's hall, she went in search of the knight. She knew exactly where to find him and found him she did. He was in his own meeting room where he and his subordinates often gathered when not on business for the king. As she entered the room, heads turned in her direction. She ignored the eyes and strolled over to him.

"May I have word with you, my lord?" she asked.

Rulf was leaning against the far wall. He seemed to be in deep thought and apparently did not hear her. She paused and waited for him to acknowledge her. A young knight leaned close to him and spoke. He seemed surprised to see her.

"What brings you to these parts, my lady?"

Stepping quite close to him, she whispered, "Save me, Rulf."

Rulf waved his hand and his men quickly departed the room. "Save you from what, pray tell?"

Her face showed some amount of dismay. "The king has ordered us to go to King Christoffle's castle."

"What of it?" he asked, puzzled.

"To marry his sons!" she replied. "Save me Rulf, only you can." Clinging to his lapel, she rested her head on his chest. "Oh Rulf, you must save me and marry me."

Slowly, he extricated her hands, which had crept around his neck. "No, my lady. You must obey the king. Marry you, I cannot."

She stepped back as disappointment rushed through her like a mighty wind. "Pray tell, why not?"

"I have no wish to be wedded to anyone."

Three days after the king sent away the young noblite women from the palace, he called for a meeting with the council and invited Rulf to attend. The soldiers from the east were about a thousand. Although the king was grateful, he expressed concern that Kingdom City was unable to cater all their needs. There weren't enough servants in the city. Only one solution came to mind.

After discussing the matter with the ministers, they all agreed that employing netherbred woman for this purpose was the only way. The king entrusted Rulf with the duty.

Rulf knew that the gathering of such netherbred women was not just to clean house, but to serve the soldiers' most carnal needs. This didn't feel right, but it was a long-standing tradition to use women to boost the soldiers' morale.

The task he'd been given was below his station. However, he would perform it well. When the meeting ended, he sent out a small contingent of his underlings along with a small contingent of soldiers. There was no need for him to accompany the men, as this was a simple task of offering gold coins and raiment to the netherbred women. He was confident that those he'd chosen to take care of it would complete it accordingly.

While the troop left for the townships, he went into a meeting with the captain of the guard and the king about the battle strategy for the next few days. Many of their soldiers were was wounded in battle and they discussed using some of the township women to tend to the wounded.

At evening when the meeting was over, he returned to his private hall. As he entered, one of his men was speaking about the day's event. Having nothing better to do, he listened to the animated discussion as though it was a report.

"She outright refused, even when told it was by order of the King!"

Rulf chuckled and placed a hand on the young soldier's shoulder. "Refused? Are you sure this was a nether and not some noblite?"

A few of the others laughed while some shook their heads adamantly. One of his own deputies stepped forward.

"No, my lord, she was a lesser," he said. "Her attire was old and worn and she carried a pail with water."

"A pail you say?" Rulf asked, his heart skipping a few beats.

"Yes my lord, a pail," he laughed.

He hadn't thought of Catrain all day due to being busy with consultations. Now that the men mentioned a feisty lesser, he was almost certain it was her. He just needed to make certain as his interest was now piqued.

"Where, may I ask, did you happen to see this feisty maiden?" he asked.

His heart had started beating erratically, causing him to be completely annoyed with himself. He tried to still it but to no avail. As he waited for an answer he realized how impatient he'd become because of this girl. He was of two minds to tell the young knight not to bother telling him, but the need to know was too great.

"She fetched water from up the river on the other side of the forest. I believe the village is called Frogsgrave, my liege."

"She would have made a good drabbelier. She is beautiful!" another soldier exclaimed.

"Enough!" Rulf shouted.

All eyes widened at his outburst. He himself was surprised as well. Their eyes trained on him as he sought to make sense of his own reaction.

He softened his voice. "These women are not drabbeliers \- they are here to motivate the soldiers from the east and to assist in serving them. They don't have to bed them if they don't want."

"But sire...," the one who had spoken begun, but in two strides Rulf was facing him. He snapped his mouth shut.

"Have you no respect for women? Were you not born a nether until I found you?"

"Y-y-y-yes, my liege."

This was Frederick, one of the more promising young soldiers who wished to become a knight. Rulf had taken him under his wings. He'd found the boy when he was twelve years old wandering the kingdom. Both parents had died of the serpent's plague and he was all alone. This illness caused blue blotches to appear on the skin with marks akin to a snakebite. Then, the skin of the person skin became scaly like a serpent's.

Rulf had convinced the council to allow him to train Frederick to become a knight. But the soldier must move up another rank before he could be knighted. This was the process for a netherbred. Those who knew nothing of his background thought Frederick was of noble birth.

Rulf stepped back, eyed each of the men and grunted in disgust. With a sharp turn, he strode from the room. As he returned to his dwelling, he wondered what befell him earlier. Tomorrow he faced the Gerdanian rebels and he needed his wits about him. Since he met that lesser, he'd been acting quite imprudent.

This last outburst was proof that she was a she-devil and he would not allow her to control his emotions. He must shut her out of his mind if he was to stand up against the enemy in battle. After all, the Gerdanians possessed the Jewel of Power.

Before the battle, he needed to relieve his tension and Lady Guinevere was away courting King Christoffle's son. That left the chambermaids. The blonde maid who served the second minister would have to do.

Pivoting, his sword came slashing, leaving a trail of orange glow in its wake, followed by a stream of red fluid. Blade met flesh as blood gushed like a spring bursting from the earth. Rulf closed his eyes as the Gerdanian rebel thumped to the ground.

Before the rebel completely hit the soil, another rushed him from behind. Jamming the sword backward, he felt the weight of the body as the blade sank into innards. Yells and groans filled the afternoon air as Rulf twisted the sword before pulling it out. The fallen rebel caused the earth to tremble.

Left and right, more rebels advanced. Twirling like a whirlwind, his blade sliced through flesh, making a clean cut as heads thudded to the ground.

A white horse charged in from the distance. Astride was a Gerdanian bearing a red and white flag – the halting flag for the day. Rulf had expected a white flag only which would have signified they had surrendered.

A horn also sounded from afar. Weapons continued their clanging as metal met metal. The muffled sound of metal to flesh was like a musical undertone. The cries of agony and the final groans of the dying added to the harmony.

"Retreat!" The Gerdanian riding the horse bellowed as the horn sounded once more. "Retreat!"

The opponents were calling it off for the night. Their soldiers were diminishing rapidly and they knew they would lose the battle. Rulf straightened as the enemy began to depart. Before stepping away, he wiped his bloody blade on the clothes of one of his victims.

Someone patted him on the shoulder. He turned to look into the eyes of a commander.

"Excellent skills Sir Knight," the commander praised him. "Never have I seen such magnificent swordsmanship."

Rulf nodded and walked away. He wasn't too keen of getting praised while standing in the middle of blood and dead flesh. All around were wounded and dead - Gerdanians and Cronadian soldiers alike.

A few more soldiers praised him as he moved away from the center of the field. He was thirsty and needed to get the blood off him. The river being nearby, he headed there to take a wash before summoning Osorus.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had gone into the forest on the path that led to where he saw Catrain. Pulling up short, he hesitated as to whether he should continue. Casting his eyes up to the sky, he determined it was early and she perhaps she hadn't come yet. If he should judge her by the time he'd seen her, it was early for her.

He'd just moved off again when he heard a zinging sound. Upon turning to the sound, he saw it coming but was too late. The arrow pierced his flesh before he had a chance to slip out of the way.

Something was wrong. This was no ordinary arrow, he concluded as he felt the energy begin to drain from him. Osorus _, where are you?_

Meanwhile, at the riverbank, Osorus supped from the cool clear water. Thinking he heard a sound, the horse pricked his ears up. He loved this part of the river, it was the place his master saw the beautiful nether.

As far as Osorus was concerned, Kisalese were stupid. They could not tell the difference between individuals. They separated people based on royal lines. Animals differentiated between evil and good. As for the people in the palace, they were mostly evil, but the people in the townships were pure.

Taking his last mouthful, the horse turned to go back to the battlefield to fetch Rulf. The master hadn't whistled, but he heard the call to halt for the day and knew Rulf must be needing him. As he turned to head toward the battleground, a weird sensation gripped him.

"My master," he whinnied.

The heart of the horse thundered, as he knew something happened to Rulf. He was the knight's protector and he should never have wandered too far. Now, one of the kingdom's guardians was hurt because of him.

Osorus picked up Rulf's scent immediately and realized he was in the forest not far away. Ears back and tail in the air, he galloped through the trees, only stopping when he sensed where Rulf was. His master was leaning against a tree and Osorus cantered up to him.

Rulf smiled – more of a grimace - when he saw the horse. Osorus rubbed his nose on Rulf's shoulder and let out a small sound. He was apologizing - his master would know that.

The stallion went down on all fours, allowing Rulf to mount easily. When the knight was safely astride, he stood. In that moment, his nostrils twitched at the scent of someone by the river. His master would need help and there he headed, hoping that a good soldier would save one of the kingdom's most prized possessions.

The river ran from the Black Eagle Mountains. Across the river was the forest, which also led into the same cloud-capped mountains. Beyond the forest was Kingdom city. At the base of the mountains was the Dark Serpent Valley. This was the designated battleground.

If she went too far up the river, Catrain was certain she would enter the combat zone. The cries of the men, the clanging of swords and zinging of arrows were loud enough for her to hear from her home.

The east side of the mountains was closest to Frogsgrave and that was where the battle seemed hottest. It was earlier than usual when the cries faded and battle paused for the day. It was a welcomed sound of silence across the hills, valleys and plains of Cronada.

"Now I can fetch my last pail of water and take my wash."

Changing her route, she took a path not often used to avoid coming into contact with any soldiers. After remaining hidden for some time, she returned to the track that led to her favorite place. The place was tranquil, allowing her a peaceful bath.

She was just about done when she heard a soft padding and then a loud thud. Startled, she quickly dressed and was about to fetch her pail when a gray stallion wearily trotted to the water's edge. The horse she knew well. Those fiery eyes she could never forget.

As she stared at the beast, she remembered her father and uncle Brogue telling her stories. The dragon stallion was the most special horse in the entire land of the Veiled Territories. A charmed horse it was, given as a special gift to exceptional people. By special, her uncle had explained that the one who received such an animal possessed superior abilities.

The mount's fiery orange-red eyes seemed to pierce her soul, that she was certain they would set her ablaze. Casting a glance by the trees, she thought that the Fire Knight would be standing there glaring at her. She did not see him. The horse stared at her while moving its head from side to side.

"Where is your master?" she asked.

It was as though the beast understood her. He lifted his head and shook it, then leveled his gaze once more with hers. Catrain narrowed her eyes and made a step toward the animal and he too made a step in her direction.

"Where is the Fire Knight?" she asked once more.

The stallion let out a soft whinny and twisted his head. Was something wrong? A strange feeling settled over her. What it was, she could not fathom. Her mind worked to figure out the answer and then it occurred to her that this might be a trap. She had refused the kings request to enter the city to tend to the new soldiers.

"Nice try, Fire Knight!" she bellowed.

The darkness was quickly descending and she needed to get home before long. Gritting her teeth at the idea that he was trying to use his steed to trick her, she brushed passed the stallion. As she passed him, he nudged her back. Catrain twirled to face the mighty beast.

He trotted away toward the band of trees near the riverbank. She was about to head on her path when she heard a soft moan. Stopping to listen, she also peered in the direction of the horse. In the dimness of the dusk, she made out a figure lying on the ground.

With heart pounding heavily, she stiffened. _Was that someone's groan?_ Then again, the horse belonged to the Fire Knight. No one else was allowed to ride that stallion... or rather no one else could, according to fables.

Dredging up some courage, she dropped her pail and hurried to where the animal was. It was the knight. There he lay with blood on his fittings with an arrow sticking out from his left shoulder.

"Oh no," she breathed, falling to her knees.

While she fought to figure out what to do, the horse quenched its thirst at the water's edge. She knew the arrow had to stay put until the wound could be bandaged. It appeared he already lost a great deal of blood and removing the arrow would result in him bleeding to death.

"Can you hear me, Sir Knight?" she asked. "My lord, can you hear me?"

He was sweating profusely and a few locks of hair curled at the moistness. A stray wisp fell on his forehead and Catrain instinctively brushed it away. The Fire Knight groaned and opened his eyes. For a second they stared up at her before they slammed shut.

The darkness was covering the forest like a blanket. It was dangerous for anyone to be out at this hour, as the rebels may find a way to enter. It was important to get him away from there. He needed medical care or he would surely die.

Catrain had to think fast. He was much too heavy for her to carry or even lift onto the horse. In addition, it appeared he'd fallen unconscious. She could go back to the village to fetch her father, Merek, but that would take a while. Leaving him for long would certainly invite ravenous beasts sniffing for food. She couldn't bear the thought of that happening.

It annoyed her that she had great concern for the rude knight who ordered her off the king's land. Her irritation fueled her strength and she propped him against the nearest tree, taking care not to dislodge the arrow. Fetching her father was the only option she had. She prayed that no beast would smell the blood and decide to have dinner, as he was unable to defend himself.

She was about to head on the path to the village when hot breath fanned her neck. When she turned, the stallion rested his soft nose on her shoulder and nuzzled her.

"What are you trying to tell me?" she asked. "Now, would you allow me to ride you?"

_Would he allow it?_ As far as the fable went, no one could ride the dragon horse except for its owner... and in rare cases, a royal. This was an emergency, so perhaps this was an exception.

Reaching out her hand, she caressed its neck. He seemed happy with her touch. Again, he rested his muzzle on her shoulder and she hugged him, whispering soothing words to him.

"Don't worry about your master, he will be fine. I promise to help him if you will help me."

Holding on to his reins, she swung her legs up, swiftly sitting astride him. Expecting him to rail, she was pleasantly surprised when he didn't. She patted him gently as she realized he started moving in the direction of her village without her having to guide him. As he moved on the trodden path, he picked up speed quickly so that she had to hold tightly to the reins.

He was as fast as she'd imagined, moving almost at lightning speed. In no time, she was pulling up outside the homestead. Her father was standing in the yard, his disapproval evident.

"Catrain, you disobeyed me again ... what have we...?" Merek's words trailed off while fingering his chin. "Where did you find such an animal?"

"Pa, this is the steed of the Fire Knight. He's been hurt. Come with me pa, we need to fetch him now."

Merek hesitated for a second while he stared at the horse Catrain was riding. He looked from the animal to his daughter, an undecipherable look crossing his face. Catrain didn't know what to make of it.

"Pa, now!"

Her voice seemed to bring him out of a trance and he ran to fetch his vegetable cart, which he hooked to the horse's reins. Now that it was dark, they had to bring a torch along. The stallion galloped quickly through the dark as though he could see without the light. The knight was lying on his side, as it seemed he was unable to hold himself into sitting position.

Catrain admired how strong her father was as he lifted the injured man into the cart all the while taking care not to dislodge the arrow. Once he was carefully lying in the cart, they set off to Catrain's cottage.

Merek made a poultice to dress the knight. He then brought out a vial that he placed under the knight's nose. The injured man twisted his head and opened his eyes with a groan. Merek told her it was important that he was conscious when they removed the arrow.

"Daughter, fetch your uncle Brogue," Merek instructed. "We must get this arrow out."

Merek's brother lived a short distance away. From her yard, Catrain could make out the lights in her uncle's house a little further down the dirt path. In little time, she was running up to the small porch.

"Uncle Brogue!" she yelled, banging on the door. "Uncle Brogue."

"I ain't hard of hearing you know," he returned as he yanked the door open. "What troubles you?"

"It's the king's knight. He's been injured by an arrow."

Brogue's eyes opened wide. "A knight? What is he doing in the Frogsgrave?"

"I found him upstream," she replied impatiently. "Come quickly, we must save him."

Brogue stepped on the small porch of his house and closed the door, but not without scolding her. "What were you doing upstream? You know you're not supposed to go there by yourself!"

"Scold me later, Uncle," she retorted. "We must hasten."

In a short time, they were back at the cottage where Brogue's eyes bulged even more than her father's. He stood still as he stared at the horse in front of the house.

"You saved the one riding this mount?" he asked wonderingly.

"Yes, he's inside."

Snapping out of his awestruck state, he quickly followed Catrain inside where Merek had removed the tunic by cutting it away from the arrow. He had also broken the fletching, leaving only the shaft of the arrow visible.

The men spoke in low tones so Catrain could not hear. Anxiously standing by the door, she waited for instructions. Her eyes stayed with the injured man as he grimaced in pain. His pale face was like a little boy's, tempting her to sing him a lullaby. It was then she realized she didn't even know his name. Everyone in the village referred to this man as the Fire Knight only.

Her father spoon-fed some medicine to the knight. They said it would ease the pain of when they pushed the arrow back. The arrow should not be pulled forward as that was dangerous and would pull his flesh out.

Catrain bit her bottom lip when they put him in an upright position. Her father held him in place, as he was unable to sit on his own. Before Catrain could turn away, knowing what was to come next, Brogue hit the arrow, sending it through the knight's shoulder.

A long howl resounded through the small cottage that she was certain all the villagers thought an animal was in pain. Relief came when she saw the tip of the arrow. Merek broke the tip and swiftly pulled the shaft out. Brogue pressed the wound with a piece of wool to stop the bleeding while he beckoned Catrain over.

"Clean him up nice and then we bandage him."

"Me?" she asked as both men looked at her.

"Yes, you."

While Catrain prepared the warm water and towels for cleaning the knight, she could not help but overhear the conversation between her father and uncle.

"That arrow been spelled by a witch," Brogue said.

Merek grunted. "Aye. I seen the markings, but the spell was weak."

"It was meant for the heart, no?"

Merek nodded. "The knight must have been distracted, is why he got the arrow."

"You seen the steed? It's the dragon-horse. He should have protected his master."

"It doesn't always happen that way, Brogue. I will examine the arrow more closely on the morrow."

Sparse dark hair formed a V across his chest and down his firm muscled stomach. She was careful not to hurt him as she sponged the blood, dirt, and sweat from his body. By this time, he'd fallen asleep from the pain medicine given to him. While she cleansed him, her uncle pressed the wound with a towel to keep him from bleeding out.

When she was done, her father applied the poultice and Brogue did the bandaging. Afterward, Merek disappeared and returned with a knight's uniform used decades before.

"Pa, whose is that?"

Brogue and her father exchanged glances before he replied. "Oh, this old thing I got a long time ago from the previous war."

"You bought a knight's fittings?"

"They were being bartered in the marketplace and I bought it," Merek said.

Merek and Brogue assisted her in dressing the knight in the old clothing. All throughout the night Catrain stayed by the injured man's side. His fever was high and she sponged him with cool water to contain the fever. Parched lips told her that he was athirst and she gently sponged water on his lips and watched it trickle into his mouth him water. Reflexively, he swallowed. Despite pleas from her father to take her bed, she refused, insisting on tending the injured man who had been unkind to her.

Catrain recalled his admonishment of her. However, something compelled her to gently minister to him to see that he was better. Being the king's loyal servant was important to the netherbreds and Catrain convinced herself that this was the reason she was doing all she could to make him better.

She sat at his bedside, in a wooden chair where sleep overtook her. At times, she'd rest her head on the cot on which he lay, listening to his even breathing while she dozed. Some time during the night, she found her father hovering over her.

"He be in need of good medicine and care of the palace physician. I will take him at the first light of dawn before the day breaks," Merek told Catrain.

"I will go with you, Pa," she quickly added.

"My child, you will do no such thing for you may never return."

"What do you mean, I may never return?"

"Women are needed in the city, and one look at you and they will never let you leave."

Catrain bowed her head in disappointment as her father went back to bed. She'd thought that they would nurse the knight back to health, or at the least, for a few days until he was able to leave on his own.

Rulf's eyelids opened weakly. He was lying on a cot in a tiny room with gray wooden walls. _What manner of place is this?_ Trying to rise was of no use as he felt weak throughout his body. When he tried to move, waves of excruciating pain in his shoulder and torso rendered he immobile. The heat in his body was unbearable while the room seemed to move about at its own will.

After great effort, he moved his right hand. It brushed something silky and he barely got his head to turn in its direction. Someone's head rested beside him on the cot. The hair. Catrain _? No, it's impossible_.

_What happened? Why am I here?_ Confusion plagued him, causing him to stare at her for a long time. _What happened?_ He closed his eyes and tried to remember. The fog slowly cleared as he recalled the arrow. Did she find him? Did she save him? As if sensing that he was awake, she lifted her head and their eyes connected.

"Are you awake?" she asked, touching his forehead. "Oh no, the fever is too much."

Taking a washcloth from a bowl, she squeezed and placed it on his forehead. The coolness of it burned into his scorching skin.

"Catrain," his mouth moved, trying to form her name, but no sound came.

His eyes slammed shut as darkness overcame him.

When Catrain woke that morning, sunbeams lighted the room. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach at the sight of the empty bed. Quickly gathering the knight's fittings, she took them to the river where she washed them. When they were dry, she mended the section that her father had cut.

Catrain's heart was heavy but there was nothing she could do. She perhaps would never see him again now that she was forbidden to go upstream. The most she could hope for was news about him through those who visited the city marketplace. Death of the Fire Knight would be announced through the town crier. Otherwise, she'd know he was alive.

Merek slowed the cart at the city gate. It's been years since he'd ventured this near Kingdom City. His brother Brogue was the one who peddled the produce in the city market while he bartered in the other hamlets. There was never any need for him to come there. The guard at the humongous iron gate strode up to him with a frown.

"Aren't you the king's cobbler?"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are," the man insisted. "I remember you. You wouldn't remember me. I am that boy that brought the royal shoes to have them mended."

"Hmm."

"I used to sit and watch you work and wished I could be like you one day," the soldier said. "Did you travel far?"

"No, I told you, I be not the kings cobbler."

"No use denying it sir, I remember you," the guard insisted. "What is your name?"

"Merek it is."

"Then you are...," the guard paused. "You were the cobbler a long while back. I told you I remember you."

"Okay, I used to be," Merek reluctantly replied since the man would not let the matter alone. "I be a farmer now."

The guard glanced at the cart covered with straw. "What have you to trade today?"

"Not to trade. I brought an injured man. We found him by the river."

"Take him to the hospital at the northeast barracks."

"No, I think this one needs special attention from the palace physician."

Merek beckoned the guard, who lifted the straw. When he saw who was underneath, he quickly called a few of his contemporaries to accompany Merek to the palace. Once they reached the palace, he was told to wait outside while they fetched the Prime Minister. A long time passed before the Second Minister appeared. The soldier told him that the Prime Minister was otherwise occupied.

"You have protected the king's life by saving this knight," the Second Minister said. "To show the king's gratitude, I offer these gifts to you."

The minister gave Merek a small pouch with gold coins along with a chest.

"I understand you have a daughter?"

"How did you know that?"

The minister smiled. "We have a record of everyone in the kingdom. There is raiment for your daughter and your brother. There is also a skin of wine as well as aliment."

Merek bowed low. "Thank you, Minister."

Three weeks went by and Catrain put the Fire Knight out of her thoughts and continued to help her father with the farm and animals. She fetched water daily at the river but never went upstream as she was strictly forbidden to do so. This did not please her as she was badly in need of her favorite swimming hole.

On this particular day, she knew the sun would not set for a few hours. The battle seemed to have paused for a few days as she did not hear the usual swords clanging or men yelling in anguish. Perhaps the war was over, she thought.

Thinking it was safe to chance it, she ventured upstream, taking care to watch for anything unusual. She'd finished washing and changing into a clean frock, filled her pail with water and was on the path home when she heard a sound behind her. She stopped and turned but there was no one.

Now, this was the edge of the forest but there were trees on both sides of the river. A few yards away there was the clearing and the road to the village. She was still on the opposite side of the river on the king's land so it was still dangerous.

She turned back to her path and was aghast to find it blocked by a Gerdanian. His brown tooth grin made her stomach churn. While trying to sidestep him, two more appeared, completely preventing her from leaving.

"What have we here? What are you doing all by yourself in these parts?"

"Step away from the path and let me on my way!" she snapped.

The one behind her grabbed her around the waist and lifted her. Feet kicking, she tried to elbow him but her efforts were in vain. One of the other two approached, taking a lock of her hair.

"So beautiful, never have I seen such golden hair before and such eyes. What color may they be?"

"Unhand me you scoundrel," she demanded, kicking him in the gut.

Letting out a groan, he doubled over. A moment later, he rose to his feet and straightened. Stepping close to her, he raised his hand as if to hit her when a voice stopped him.

"You heard the lady!" the voice carried from the trees.

Catrain's heart leaped at the sound of it. She knew it well. Her pulse began an erratic ticking as heat crawled over her skin. Elated, a broad smile appeared on her face. However, her elation was quickly replaced by anger as she recalled that in the past few weeks, the man she saved had not returned to see her once.

"Who said that? Show yourself, coward!" the one holding her demanded.

A dagger zinged through the air and lodged itself in a tree close to the head of the one she'd kicked. He seemed to be the leader of the three. Out of nowhere, the Fire Knight presented himself, sword drawn.

"Unhand the lady!" he ordered.

Her abductor snickered. "This is no lady."

"I said, unhand her or I might be forced to use my sword," the king's knight warned.

"Very well," the leader said, drawing his sword.

The one holding Catrain loosened his grip and Catrain took the opportunity to wrangle free. As she untangled herself, she gripped the pommel of his sword and pulled it from his belt. With the quick agility she possessed, she pivoted and brought the sword up to his neck. With bulging eyes and mouth open, he gawked at her.

"On your knees, Gerdanian," she ordered.

When the man hesitated, she pressed the blade of his sword into his neck. Reluctantly, he sank to his knees, keeping his eyes on her and his hands raised above his head.

While Catrain held her aggressor captive, she welcomed the sound of clashing of blades. The rebel sliced while the knight countered and struck the wrist of the rebel. The man cried out in pain as the sword loosened from his grip. The knight's blade found an opening and sank into his torso. The rebel sank to the ground, gripping his chest.

The clanking of swords continued with the third. The rebel warrior was no match for the knight and in little time, he too crumpled to the ground. The king's knight disappeared, then returned with a rope made of strong vines.

With the blade still at the rebel's throat, Catrain frowned. "Something is wrong."

The knight cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"How did they break through the fortress?" she asked. "My father told me that each village and town had been fortified. There must be a weak point."

"You are correct." He replied. "I thought the same thing."

The knight stood still as he stared intently at her.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

"You are quite intelligent for a nether."

Catrain burst into a fit of laughter. "For a nether?"

His next question surprised her further. "Can you read?"

"Of course I can read. My father and uncle are learned men who have gained extensive knowledge during their travels."

"What? Learned netherbreds?" he seemed flabbergasted.

The rebel shifted, trying to get free. She adjusted the sword so that the blade sank into the soft pad beneath his jaw.

"My father and uncles have gathered many books and taught me well," she remarked. "Now, enough about me. How did these rebels breech the fortress?"

"The rebel will have to talk."

Catrain's eyes flicked to her prisoner. "How did you get through?" she asked him but he snickered in response.

She pushed the blade deep, piercing his skin. A small trickle of blood appeared on the blade.

"Answer me, rebel."

"Why should I answer you?" he spat. "You're just a commoner."

"And so are you," she replied, sinking the blade deeper.

The rebel laughed. "Your king will never win this war. The victory is ours now that we have an ally in the palace."

Catrain glanced at the knight whose brows deeply knitted together. He marched forward, gripped the rebel by the collar and pulled him up against a tree. Catrain followed with the sword, keeping it at his neck.

"Who is the traitor?" the knight demanded. "Who let you through the barricade?"

"Kill me now for I will never tell you," the Gerdanian replied.

Anger rose like oil to flames. Her hatred of the rebels fueled her ire. Gripping the hilt of the sword tightly, she lifted her hand, pulling away from the rebel's neck. Then she brought back the handle of the sword, landing it on his cheekbone. A loud thwack was the result as the rebel sank to the forest floor. A small gash on his cheek oozed red.

"Damn," the knight cursed. "What have you done? I wanted to interrogate him."

"Ooops."

She knew he was upset with her for knocking out the rebel. His movements as he tied them up gave that fact away. Snatching the sword from her grasp, he sheathed it and placed it in his saddle.

After making sure they were unable to get free, the knight approached her. They eyed each other for a moment. She was about to turn away when she felt him grip her upper arm.

"Let go," she hissed. "You mannerless cad!"

The knight cocked a brow. "Mannerless cad?"

"Yes," she retorted. "You have forgotten who saved your life. Anyway, why would you be thankful to a lesser born like me?"

"Shut up and listen," the knight replied, his tone calm.

Catrain lifted her chin. "Why? Do you want to scold me for being on the king's land again? We pay our share of taxes to the castle, we have the right to bathe in this river!"

Without a word, he pulled her close.

"Unhand me this instant!" she protested.

She struggled against him, but his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her fast against his body. Her breasts pressed into him, his rough raiment chafing her nipples. To her dismay, her nipples tightened as her pulse began to tick unsteadily.

"You talk too much," he murmured with a grin. "I was about to thank you."

"Oh," she murmured.

When he dipped his head, Catrain was spellbound and didn't know what to do. When his lips touched hers, she stiffened. His mouth moved over hers, prying her lips apart. Heat wrapped itself around her like the hot sun scorching her skin. A new sensation enveloped her, making her heartbeat heavy. The feeling reminded her of when the swamp ogre had scared her. The feeling of danger she felt then, was what she was feeling now. This sent alarm bells ringing through her head.

Mustering all her strength, she tore away from the kiss and broke free. Before she knew what she was doing, her open hand came up and landed across the cheek of the man. Her palm stung where it met his flesh. She was breathing shallow and rapidly as though she'd been running.

They stared at each other while Catrain tried to steady her breathing and unpredictable heartbeat. When the Fire Knight stepped close to her once more, she raised her hand to slap him again, but he caught the hand and brought it to his lips. The touch of his lips on the skin of her palms left marks of heat. As his lipped withdrew from her skin, she curled her fingers as if she were holding a hot, smoldering coal in her hand.

With a sharp intake of breath, Catrain tried to pull away, but her face burned with heat, and she found she'd stopped breathing altogether.

"You've never been kissed, have you?"

"You scalawag!" she quipped. "How could you kiss me when we don't know each other?"

"I was only saying thank you for saving my life."

"ARGH!"

Catrain was confused. She knew she needed to leave, but somehow she could not move. Her heart had refused to still and her body was blistering from him touching her. Still, she was angry with him for whatever reason. He moved again and she stepped back.

Her back hit a tree and the knight took the opportunity to trap her. _What now?_ Would he ravage her like this? What should she do?

"I thought you weren't scared of me," he grinned. "The last time we met by the river, you were quite fearless."

His words gave her courage and she replied evenly. "I am not scared of you, you cad."

"The name's Rulf, not cad," he casually replied.

"Goodnight, Rulf," Catrain grinned as her knee came up, but the Fire Knight was quick and sidestepped her attack.

"You're feisty," he chuckled. "Now go on before night falls."

Another surprising feeling came over her as she turned away. Somehow, she felt disappointed or sad that the encounter was over, and he'd dismissed her. Perhaps he sensed this in her because he gripped her arm again and turned her to face him.

"What now?" she asked.

"A goodnight kiss," he whispered, pulling her to him again.

Catrain was getting annoyed with him always pulling her like that. One arm circled her waist while the other cupped the back of her head. She was held captive as he stole another kiss. His tongue found hers in a searing caress. When he let go, her knees almost buckled beneath her.

She was still standing, staring after him when he whistled and his stallion came bounding into view. She hadn't moved when he mounted his steed and rode off into the forest.

With her hand to her lips, she savored the myriad of emotions coursing through her. Everything had happened all so quickly that she thought it was a dream. In a daze, she took the path home.

Catrain was out of the forest and in the fields near the village when a lone horseman descended upon her. She'd been preoccupied with her encounter with Rulf, that before she could get a handle on the situation, the horseman swept her off her feet, settling her face-down across his saddle. The horse galloped away before she recovered from the shock.

Screaming and protesting, Catrain tried to free herself but to no avail. After riding for some time, the galloping horse came to a halt where she tried to detangle herself from her captor's grasp. The man's strong grip pinned her to the horse. Someone tied a piece of cloth across her mouth to muffle her cries for help.

Still lying across the saddle, she could not see her captor's face, but she saw that the boot of him on the horse and knew he was a soldier. At least she thought he was, as uncertainty and dread assailed her. Her captor could very well be a rebel in disguise. Just that day, they had tried to take her. _It must be the rebels,_ she concluded.

A dark cloth covered her face, while they sat her upright in the saddle. It seemed there were more of them at this location. Someone bound her hands while another held her from struggling free.

Someone seated himself behind her, pinning her body to his. His hands came around her to grip the reins of the horse. This was her opportunity. Bucking her head back, she met with something hard – it must have been his forehead. The man behind her cried out in pain.

She did it again, but he must have been prepared for her. The horse was now galloping at a speed and as she reared her head, hoping to smack his face, she met air as his bodyweight shifted with the movement of the horse. Catrain almost tumbled from the animal.

"Keep still, or we will both fall," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

The most chilling feeling ran over her as goosebumps appeared over her skin, like a million tiny insects crawling over her, leaving her with that icky feeling. All she wanted then was nothing more than to take another bath.

Twisting her body, she tried to buck him head on. With the horse moving at such a speed, her hands bound behind her, it was awkward. She ended up pulling a muscle in her back.

"Ouch," she groaned, her cry muffled by the gag.

They rode for a while, then stopped once to water the horses. Her instincts had been right that there were more men there because she could hear them speaking in low tones.

She recognized when they crossed the river. She'd crossed it enough times to know. Her captor never left her. With her back resting against him, she could tell he was hard and strong. His muscled thighs constantly bulged against hers as they rode. At first, she had believed it to be Rulf, but as they journeyed further, she was certain it wasn't. Something about the way Rulf had held her was different from this man. Though he was gentle, she didn't feel the warmth in him the way she had with Rulf. Rulf's shoulders were broader, judging from the breadth of the shoulders to her back.

They slowed. A loud click ensued followed by a screech. _The drawbridge?_ From the descriptions she'd heard of the city entrances, she reached this conclusion. That meant that she was abducted by the king's soldiers and not the rebels. Unless of course the rebels had won the battle and invaded the castle! _No, Catrain, that can't be_.

If that was the case, that would mean that the Fire Knight was dead. _No ... I just saw him. He just kissed me._ Many thoughts assailed her as she pondered her fate. What would become of Cronada and the king? What would the Gerdanians do with the people and the land?

The horses came to a halt and her abductor dismounted before lifting her from her perch. He was surprisingly gentle unlike those that had gagged and bound her. Still, he was not as gentle as Rulf had been with her.

A nudge at her back suggested that she move along. What she wished for was to run, but with her hands bound and her face covered, it was useless trying. Hands gripped her upper arm guiding her, she believed, toward her doom. If she could only see where she was going, she could make her escape, but they kept the cloth over her face.

They paused. There was the sound of a click, which Catrain believed to be the opening of a door. Her captor shoved her, causing her to stumble forward. The door snapped behind them as he pulled the cloth from her. She blinked, trying to adjust to the light of the room – or rather cell.

"If you scream, no one will hear you," he warned untying the cloth at her mouth. "You are in the farthest wing in the tower of the castle reserved for royal prisoners."

Catrain stared at the man in a soldier's attire. Was he really a Cronadian soldier? Why was she a prisoner? Was she imprisoned because she slapped the Fire Knight? He didn't seem upset with her. He even kissed her goodnight. She reached her hand up to touch her lips, but she was still bound.

While he stared at her as though she was from another world, she decided it was her chance. Charging forward like a bull, Catrain went headlong into the soldier. Her head met hands and they grabbed her, keeping her at bay.

She would not give up without a fight. Her hands were still bound, but not her feet. She kicked at him, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring.

"Let me go," she shrieked.

The soldier grabbed her from behind and held her fast against him.

"Calm down. I won't hurt you," he said. "If you continue to fight, you will get hurt."

Tried as she might, she was unable to wrangle free. Her breathing was now labored because she had worked herself up into a frenzy.

"Stay still and I promise to untie you."

He untied her and she rubbed her wrists, waiting for another opportunity to strike. As he loosened her bonds, several other soldiers came into the room. They took hold of her arms, preventing her from moving. Taking note of the one before her, she registered his brown hair and matching eyes. Her suspicion that he was a rebel in disguise was dispelled when she recalled seeing him in the village about a month earlier, about the same time that Rulf was injured.

He was with the group sent by the king to encourage the women to come to serve the foreign soldiers. About a dozen soldiers now stood in the cell. They all ogled her as though she was some peculiar species. Catrain snarled at them and they laughed. She lunged at the closest one and three held her back.

"You will get hurt," the one who had untied her said. "Behave and we will not hurt you or your father."

"I will break your neck if you hurt my father," she snarled, trying to shrug off her captors but they were strong. "LET ME GO!"

"We can't do that," he said. "We have orders. You will be free soon, so stay quiet."

Looking around the room, she tried to figure out how to make her escape as more soldiers blocked the door. If she had a weapon, it would be easy. The soldiers were not wearing their swords and that was a shame. She could have easily _borrowed_ one of theirs. The room was empty except for a small cot and a tiny table. There was nothing there she could use as a weapon unless she broke the table.

It was time she changed her tactics. Slumping her shoulders, she exhaled a calming breath. She softened her face as she looked with doe eyes upon the main culprit.

"Set me free, I beg of you," she pleaded.

It was a mistake letting down her guard and pleading with them. She should have fought to the death. One by one, they filed out without response, latching the door behind them. The room was cold and damp. As the night settled its blackness over the Cronadian Kingdom, with it came chilled winds from the Sea of Zunzt from the southwest coast.

Beating the door was her only option to keep warm. The chilled winds bit into her so she kept at it, hoping her movements would warm her blood.

"Set me free you villains!" she yelled, her anger rising. "Set me free or face my wrath."

Banging the door did warm her until moisture dampened her face. Moist tendrils of her golden locks pressed to her cheeks and neck. Her hands stung while her shoulders ached as exhaustion seeped through her. She must have been at it a long time since her voice had started to crack.

"Set me free," she cried, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Exhausted, her fist hit the door one last time as she slid to the floor out of breath. She must have fallen asleep there because she was awakened by voices outside the door.

"What have you done, Frederick? She was to be left alone," someone said.

"Prime Minister Cronus commanded it," her captor replied.

She knew his voice because he had spoken to her before leaving her cell. _Frederick_. She made a note of it. She would remember to pay him back for doing this to her.

"Prime Minister Cronus is not your commander, you have no reason to obey him," the other soldier replied.

"Prime Minister Cronus _is_ my commander," Frederick said.

The sound of a thwap was loud enough for her to know that someone was hit. The sound was followed by a whimper and a thud. Catrain wondered who fell. Was it Frederick? Would she be free now?

The door began to open and Catrain closed her eyes, lying quite still. She had to be careful as she wasn't certain which soldier had been hit outside the door. Strong arms reached under her, lifting her to the bed. A cover was thrown over her and a hand touched her hair.

"Your hair is so golden, I am yet to figure out the color of your eyes. You are truly beautiful, netherbred," she heard him whisper.

Disappointment churned inside her at the voice. It was Frederick. _Rulf, where are you?_ If he knew she was a prisoner in the palace, would he rescue her? Maybe not. Perhaps he knew about this order by the Prime Minister.

Frederick left, returning a few minutes later with bread, stew and an apple. After placing them on the tiny table, he was gone, latching the door from the outside. Catrain sat up. She'd missed her dinner and was starving, but she would never touch their food.

Standing on the cot, she peered out the small window. She was indeed in the far tower of the palace. There was no way down unless she wanted to make dinner for the vultures.

"I wish I was Rapunzel," she murmured, slumping back on the tiny bed.

Worry lines creased Merek's forehead as he and Brogue trekked the river as well as the forest in search of Catrain. He'd waited for her the way he had done every evening after the day's work in the fields. Like every day, he paced the yard ready to scold her for disobeying him and going upstream. He knew she was wayward and she believed she was safe. Although he'd taught her to use the sword and the ways of a warrior, she was still no match for the Gerdanian and Cronadian soldiers.

Brogue armed himself with a bow, slinging his quiver of arrows across his back. Merek, a master swordsman, latched the belt around his hips and secured his weapon. Holding torches high above their heads, they searched the nearby fields first before venturing upstream.

"If those rebels harm my daughter, I will cut them all to pieces." Merek's voice betrayed the hatred he felt for the enemy soldiers.

Brogue growled. "I am with you, brother. Those darn rebels will taste of my wrath!"

However, at the back of Merek's mind, it wasn't the rebels he feared most. Since the last month that the foreign soldiers arrived to join forces with the Cronadian soldiers, they sought the women from the villages. His deepest fear was that they had taken her. He knew that once Catrain entered the Kingdom City walls, she would not return.

The warning had come many years before from the lips of the one person who was feared the most - Esmerelda, Keeper of the Seven Kingdoms. He recalled the witch's words, _"Your greatest joy will one day become your ultimate sorrow. The day will come when the child you so adore will be gone from your sight, unreachable and untouchable."_

He knew what the witch had said was the truth and he'd tried to shield his daughter from such a day. It was inevitable as foretold by the greatest seer in the kingdom.

"What is that?" Brogue's voice broke through Merek's reverie.

"What?" he asked.

Brogue pointed with the torch towards a band of trees. They'd crossed the river and were standing on the king's land at the edge of the forest. Merek settled his eyes in the direction in which Brogue shone the torch. Against a tree were three rebels tied together, unmoving.

"They be dead I think," Brogue declared.

Merek moved close to the rebels, crouching. "Nay," he said. "They lost plenty of blood though. This one seems to be just unconscious, just a gash on the jaw."

"Let them be, Merek," Brogue said. "We have to find my niece."

Merek nodded. "You think Catrain did this?"

"Did she travel with a sword?"

Merek shook his head. "Nay, her sword still hangs on the wall."

"What if the ones who did this took her?" Brogue asked.

"That means she was taken by our soldiers."

Weak to the knees, Merek stood to his feet and pushed forward, refusing to believe what his gut told him. Brogue followed as they searched deep inside the forest. Every crevice, behind every tree, inside every ravine was searched. No sign of Catrain.

When the first cries of the following day's battle sounded across the valley, Merek called off the search.

"I will seek the help of the one whose life we saved," he told Brogue.

"Are you certain he wasn't the one who took her?"

"I don't think he knows her value to that place, Brogue."

Brogue frowned. "What if he'd seen the necklace? He may figure it out."

"Nay," Merek replied, shaking the head. "Only those much older would know its meaning. That lad wont know it."

"I hope so."

"Let us hope she is hidden somewhere and will return soon."

Merek turned to his brother. "When you go to the market today, keep your ears to the ground for any word."

"Shouldn't we search the mountains too?"

Catrain's father shook his head. "I know in my gut she's in the castle."

"How will we get her?" Brogue asked.

"If the knight can rescue her before they reveal all, that would be best."

"If not?"

"Then they will come fetch me."

Brogue snickered, "You mean you will _allow_ them to fetch you."

Rulf reined in Osorus and scanned the river. He remembered this was her favorite spot. The sun was almost set and there was no sign of her. Three days he'd come, and she didn't show. He'd ridden up and down the river bank, gone down stream and now stood in the spot she swam the first day he saw her.

_Did the rebels scare her?_ Shaking his head, he decided that not even the rebels would scare her into not coming to fetch her pail of water and take a wash. She'd faced him unwavering that first day. When the rebels had accosted her, she'd used the sword like a trained warrior.

"No, she is not easily frightened."

Rulf dismounted and slapped the rump of his steed. An hour was left before it would be dark. He'd been searching the riverbank for hours and still no sign of her. Now he sat, staring at the pool, recalling her naked body as she bathed in it. The setting sun had set her skin aglow and some jewel she wore on a string glistened from the sunlight. Something about the stone was familiar but he could not place it. He pushed the jewel from his mind and pondered her absence.

"Why hasn't she come?" he muttered.

Something in his gut told him that she was in danger.

Agitated with his obsession with her, Rulf kicked a dry twig. Somewhere inside, he was at war. His mind and heart were going in two opposite directions. Without realizing, he whistled for Osorus. The horse came bounding through the trees, coming to a halt directly in front of him.

"Come, boy," he murmured, patting the horse's head.

As soon as he mounted, Osorus turned his nose in the direction of the village and galloped away. It was as though he sensed Rulf's inner desires to be there. An invisible force pulled both man and beast.

"No, I should head back to the palace," he told himself, trying to repudiate the thundering of his heart as he neared Catrain's house. "The king needs me."

Even as he endeavored to convince himself that he should return to Kingdom City, he knew his loyalty to the one who saved him had won. Rulf told himself that he was only going to see her because he was a knight of the highest order and knights were known for their loyalty. He owed her his life. Therefore, he concluded, that it wasn't his heart he was following but his good conscience as a knight. As the sun sank behind the mountains, he pulled to a stop in front of the small farmstead.

Standing by the gate was Catrain's father. As Osorus came to a halt, the older man's face took on a look of despair. Merek's pale features told Rulf that something had gone awry. His belly wrenched at the thought of Catrain in trouble. Rulf dismounted and strode up to the man.

"Sir Knight what brings you to these parts?" Merek inquired.

"I came to have dialogue with Catrain. Is she busy with chores?"

Merek's face relaxed for a few seconds, before a stricken look overshadowed him. Rulf was confused at the man's reaction. That feeling of dread washed over him that he stopped breathing for a moment.

"What is the matter, elder?"

Merek leaned against the gatepost, seemingly unable to stand upright. "Catrain has been missing for four days," the man said, his voice breaking.

"That cannot be," Rulf denied.

"Aye, my lord," Merek said. "We have searched far and wide. She is nowhere to be found."

"Are you certain she is not with friends?'

Merek shook his head. "Catrain has never left home for a night, let alone four entire days. She's never gone beyond the bank of the river. We found her pail in the fields," Merek added. "She'd never leave that pail behind."

With his fist curled into a ball, Rulf grounded his teeth together. The first thought that occurred to him was that the rebels took her.

"I swear on my sword I will find your daughter. With my last breath I will search this entire kingdom, knock on every door and tear apart every forest until I find her," he declared. _What did I just promise? I must be going insane..._

"Thank you, sir knight." Merek bowed.

Relief washed over Merek that the knight promised to find Catrain. Otherwise, he would have to do things that might get Catrain killed and him in prison. Brogue would also be in danger. He would need to think carefully about how to proceed.

If Catrain were indeed in the palace, they would not harm her. If he tried to get her out by breaking in, both their lives would be in danger.

Having the knight on his side was good. However, he knew that if Catrain did not return in two days, they would fetch him – as Brogue said, only because he'd allow it.

The morning mist rose up against the rising sun. The chill of the mountain air bit into Guinevere as she pulled her coat about her. She had taken an early morning stroll away from the stuffiness of her chambers. The palace gardens were expansive and would have been beautiful had it not been for the cold.

Many miles away from Cronada, she hated the very soil on which she stood. This was her fate. If she went against the king's order, she would be exiled to live a life similar to a commoner.

In her heart, she avowed never to return to the Cronadian palace. Should it matter to whom she married then? Turning from the bitter cold, she began to make her way out of the garden. On her way, she met one of her chambermaids who had accompanied her from Cronada.

"Madame, you should get back inside lest you catch your death in this cold."

The garden was vast with many flowering plants. The chill of winter was upon them and many of the flowers had begun to wither from the frost. This told her how far they'd travel from Cronada to Petaria. When they left Cronada it was quite warm. They had crossed many lands, as well as the Sea of Zunzt, to get there.

Pulling her chambermaid aside, she asked, "What is the commotion inside the palace?"

The night before, many people had gone to the queen's chambers, including the palace physician. Since arriving, she'd heard that the queen was not keeping well. She had not asked anyone and no one offered her any information. Guinevere had not spoken much to anyone and kept herself withdrawn since her arrival. The disappointment of Rulf's behavior was still fresh and she had not wished to socialize.

"My lady, word has it that Queen Zenevia has taken a turn for the worse."

The queen's illness was not a secret. For the past three weeks, the queen's health had been deteriorating rapidly. Because of this, Guinevere had not the pleasure of making her acquaintance.

Frowning, she moved closer to her chambermaid, speaking in a whisper. "What have you heard of it?"

"My lady," the servant's tone was almost a whisper as she looked around. "I heard that the king's lover did this."

Guinevere gasped. She did not know that the king had a concubine. On the first day that they had arrived at this castle, Guinevere noted that the king was a sturdy man perhaps twenty years her senior. Could not the queen please him? Would the same happen to her should she wed one of his brothers?

The late Queen Mother had been much older than the late king she learned. Guinevere understood that the youngest of the five sons was born minutes before his mother passed. He was supposedly about her age.

Guinevere's own mother passed away right after she was born so she thought she would feel some kind of kinship with the youngest of the princes. It wasn't so. Her heart was still heavy from leaving Cronada.

"Is it poison?" Guinevere asked.

The attendant nodded. "It's suspected to be so, my lady. You know about such things, don't you?"

"Yes, my father was a great physician who studied toxins and poisons. I learned many things under his tutelage."

Footsteps alerted them that they were no longer alone. The sound of voices approached and they began walking toward the exit of the garden. The ones approaching came into view and she was aghast to see that it was the king.

Guinevere stopped as she was uncertain what to do. When the king noticed her, he waved and hastened his steps, his servants lingering behind.

"How is the lady?" he inquired, his voice rich and smooth.

"Your Majesty, the lady is fine," she curtsied, keeping her eyes low.

"Walk with me?" he offered. "I won't be long."

Guinevere hesitated, "As you wish, Your Majesty."

She kept a pace behind him as customary, but he stopped and beckoned for her to join steps with him. When he stopped, turning his face to the morning sun, she noticed he was not wearing an overcoat. He inhaled deeply as though he wasn't breathing the frosty air.

"My king, should you not be careful? It's rather cold."

"Ha-ha!" his laugh was quite boisterous. "It's quite nippy this time of year. I have trained myself to adapt to any weather condition. As king and the commander of one of the greatest armies in the land, one has to be prepared."

"I see."

The king turned to face her, his baby blue eyes penetrating her. "You have kept yourself hidden these past days. My brothers have been curious about you."

"My sincere apologies, my king."

"I heard you were quite a beauty, they were right," he smiled. Her heart warmed at the sight. She hadn't realized how handsome the king was until that moment. "Do you not wish to marry one of my brothers, Lady Guinevere?"

"Your Majesty, it is not that I do not wish to marry your brother, it is that ...." Her words trailed off.

The king nodded thoughtfully. "Ha. Your heart belongs to another."

Guinevere beamed. "It is so, Your Majesty."

"Hmm, then we shall wait until you are ready," he said.

They started moving again, but Guinevere felt uneasy. She paused. "My king, may I be so forward as to ask you a question?"

He narrowed his eyes and looked intently at her. Guinevere lowered her gaze.

"You may."

"Sire, should you not be by the queen's bedside this moment?" she said. "I understand she's gravely ill."

The king clenched his jaw and gave her a severe stare. Guinevere thought he was going to reprimand her insolence, but he shrugged and turned away from her before answering.

"The queen has asked that I not see her in this condition," he replied in a thick voice. "She can be quite shallow when she wishes."

Without thinking, Guinevere touched the king's arm. "I am truly sorry, Your Majesty."

King Christoffle turned to face her, evidently surprised by her gesture. His eyes dropped to her hand and she quickly snatched it away.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty, I did not mean to cross my limits," she apologized, bowing her head.

The king chuckled. "You are quite different from the others, Lady Guinevere. You will make an exceptional companion. One of my brothers will be a fortunate prince."

Blushing, she turned away. "You flatter me, my king."

"It is well deserved, my lady," he replied. "I am glad I came out on this cold morning. Your presence has warmed me some."

With eyes wide, she stared at the king. Those words were more than flattery. Was the king flirting with her? _No. He is only being nice._

His voice broke her spell. "Shall we go in?"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty."

Ulrich's eyes began to hurt watching his master pace the room. Sometimes he would stop as if in deep thought then trammeled the floor again. Since the evening before, Rulf seemed troubled and angry. Ulrich worried for his young master that perhaps he carried too many of the king's burdens.

Rulf was like a son to the king whom he trusted more than anyone in the kingdom. Everyone in the palace knew that. Because of this, the ministers despised him, especially the Prime Minister.

"My lord, is everything well with you?" Ulrich finally queried.

Rulf stopped, then spun sharply and strode up to Ulrich.

"Have you heard anything suspicious in the city these last days?"

"What might that be, my lord?" Ulrich asked, uncertain of what his master might be asking.

"Have you heard of a girl captured from the village of Frogsgrave?"

"No, my liege," the manservant replied.

"You will be my eyes and ears Ulrich. You listen and observe," Rulf told him, though it was more of a command. "Ulrich, I need a tunic," he added.

"I will fetch one sir, which would you like today, the blue---,"

"No, not mine, a Gerdanian tunic that fits," Rulf said.

"I will see what I can do, my Lord," Ulrich replied.

Rulf looked gravely at him. "I will need it before sundown Ulrich, so hurry."

Ulrich knew what his master planned to do and fretted for the young knight. The man was the most skillful fighter in Cronada, but that didn't mean he was invincible. As his elder, Rulf was under his care and that meant his life was his responsibility.

Ulrich felt like a father to the young half-royal, him being a halabred and loyal servant to Rulf's family since he was but a boy. Rulf's father, before his untimely death, entrusted him to take care of his son.

As he left the knight's dwelling, he was a little confused as to why his master was inquiring about a netherbred girl. Shaking his head, he smiled. If his master liked a lesser then that was okay.

He quickly exited the city from the back entrance that led to a small village just about a mile away from where merchants gathered. He knew they bartered the tunics of the dead rebels, so his best option was to purchase one for his master.

The cold night air lifted up from the Sea of Zunzt. Though it could get extremely cold in Cronada, they did not experience the frost like the other territories. Rulf ignored the cold and made his way toward the Gerdanian camp beyond the Dark Serpent Valley.

Without the moonlight as guide, he depended on his horse's natural night vision to guide them. Once outside the rebel camp, he dismounted, leaving his thoroughbred to hide until his return.

The bonfires and torches from within the camp made his entry clear. Keeping to the shadows, he observed the groups of men camped around fires. Some were already asleep while others kept guard, keeping their conversations low. Moving on padded feet, Rulf made no sound as he crept near to where a group huddled close together. As he drew close, he overheard them discussing the following day's battle strategy.

Rulf chuckled softly, thinking that their plan was sure to fail. At least now, he could advise the captain about their plot and end this farce of a war.

Keeping low, he moved stealthily across the encampment, listening for any mention of a violet-eyed golden hair lesser on the site. Nothing came up. By the time he circled the entire area, he concluded that she was not there. If they had captured her, she would have been made a public spectacle and perhaps bartered among the men to the highest bidder. Or worse, she'd be passed around like a slab of meat.

The best case scenario would have been that she would be reserved for their leader and kept hidden in his tent. Rulf made his way close to the main tent, which was heavily guarded. As he moved through the shadows, he ground his teeth in irritation that he felt responsible for her.

He was even angrier with himself that he'd kissed her. How could he have kissed a lesser born? It was unheard of that a half-royal would romance someone as she. Taking one to bed as a means of sating oneself was one thing, but having his heart flutter at the mere thought of her was completely ridiculous.

He managed to slither to the back of the main tent and listened. The people inside spoke in subdued tones. Rulf, now anxious to see what was happening, pulled his stiletto, silently piercing the tent. The blade made a small hole through which he peered. The Rebel king was sitting around a makeshift table made of a slab of wood and a large stone. With him were three of his high-ranking soldiers.

Apart from those four, the tent was empty. Relief flooded him as his shoulders relaxed. With the release of his earlier tension came also a sinking feeling that Catrain was in Kingdom City for the use of the soldiers from the east. His respite lasted but a few seconds before anger burned his belly.

Gritting his teeth, Rulf curled his fist and punched the night air. How could his men take her after her refusal? The king specifically ordered them to bring only those women who came willingly.

Making his way back to his horse, he was in such a foul mood that he almost walked into a group of soldiers sitting around a fire. When he realized what he'd done, he turned and began walking briskly toward the edge of the campsite.

As he neared where he'd left his horse a soldier approached him. Rulf kept moving with his head down. He'd made a few more steps when a hand clamped his shoulder.

"Are you hard of hearing or what?" a Gerdanian asked

In reply, Rulf turned, trapping the soldier's hand. Twisting the wrist, he brought the man to his knees. Before the soldier could raise an alarm, Rulf let go of the hand. The soldier grinned and began to rise to his feet. Grinning as well, Rulf cupped the man's chin and the back of his head, twisting in one swift move. The Gerdanian fell face down with his head at an unusual angle.

Sharp pain sliced through her abdomen and stomach. Catrain curled on the small cot, trying to will the pain away. Nausea rose to her throat as her head throbbed wickedly. It was four days in that Godforsaken cell and not a morsel touched her lips. She swore she would not touch food until they set her free. If not, she would rather die.

Someone knelt beside the cot and touched her shoulder. "You must eat, or you will get sick."

Groaning, she brushed the hand away. The movement brought another shooting pain to her core. Biting her lips from crying out, she grimaced and buried her face in the cot. She would not show them her weakness. She stayed like that for some time until she slowly drifted to sleep.

Frederick puckered his forehead as he paced the floor in front of the cell. The girl hadn't eaten since they'd taken her. He worried because his orders were that nothing should happen to her.

The Prime Minister was going to be furious if she fell ill because of him. He could tell that she was in pain, even though she tried to hide it from him. She'd been lying in that position now for nearly twenty-four hours. Her soft groans filtered through the cell door, proving she was in pain.

Frederick moved away from the cell and made his way to the east wing of the castle where the Prime Minister's private quarters were. After knocking twice, he entered the chambers. The minister's head was bent as he scribed on papyrus.

"What is it?" Cronus demanded.

"Minister, it's about the lesser."

"Don't call her that."

Frederick frowned. Was the minister sweet on her? What was he to call her? He didn't even know her name. Scratching his head with lines creasing his brow, he shuffled uncomfortably.

"Her name is Catrain," the Minister added.

"Yes, Minister," he replied.

"Now tell me, what about her?"

A single bead of sweat meandered its way down his back. Palms also sweaty, Frederick squirmed as the sweat tickled his flesh. The Minister raised his sharp eyes, which seemed to pierce him like an arrow.

"What have you done?" Cronus slowly rose to his feet. His face darkened as he advanced on Frederick.

The younger man stepped back. "N-n-nothing, Minister," he stuttered. "I have done nothing, sire."

"Then what?" Cronus' voice rose a pitch.

"My lord, she hasn't taken food since being here."

Cronus returned to his seat, his face relaxing. "I cannot afford to let anything happen to her, she is the key to the kingdom."

Frederick's eyes widened. Key to the kingdom? He repeated in his head. What does that mean? He wanted to ask the minister what he meant by it. He kept quiet as the minister stared at the papyrus set on the table.

"When it is quiet all around, when every man is asleep, move her to one of the empty chambers near my quarters,' Cronus instructed. "Give her new raiment.

"Yes, my lord."

"Get one of the nethers from one of the villages - preferably not of Frogsgrave – to tend to her as a maid. She should never know whom Catrain is. The maid must believe she is a noblite – a royalite even. Make sure she wants for nothing."

"Yes, Minister."

"One more thing," Cronus said. "Swear the maid to silence or you both shall face the consequences."

With a slight bow, he spun around and started heading to the door when he paused. Cronus raised his head and cocked a brow as he turned.

"My lord, what do you mean 'she is the key to the kingdom'?"

"The time will come when all will be revealed. You must follow my orders with utmost discretion. No one can know of this, swear on your sword," Prime Minister Cronus commanded.

Frederick was now confused as dread filled him. He'd originally thought that the minister had wanted to bed the girl. He even thought he would offer her to the soldiers. Now he learned that she was _'the key to the kingdom'_ , he knew that his lordship was up to something sinister. This was not a part of the deal when he agreed to serve the minister. He was under the impression that the minister was a loyal servant of the king. Now he was uncertain of this.

It took him a day and a half to find a girl from a village several miles away from Frogsgrave. When he felt certain he made the right choice, he offered the girl gold and fine clothing for her silence. The girl was fair to look at and he found himself taken with her, although he had completely fallen for the prisoner in the castle.

Traveling along the corridor of the ministers' building, Ulrich moved within the shadows of the giant pillars. It was near midnight and his master had sent him to hand the second minister a letter from the captain of the guard. He was returning from Aldridge's chambers when footsteps approached from the east end of the building. Ulrich withdrew into the deeper shadows of the columns.

Two women and a soldier appeared, pausing a moment outside the chamber next to the Prime Minister's. Recalling his master's words, Ulrich peered closely at the group and noticed that one of the women's face was covered with a black cloth. She moved slowly, slightly hunched as though she wasn't keeping well. The other woman's arm was around her shoulders.

Ulrich tried to get a better view but he could only make out one thing that stood out. Her hair glistened in the light of the lamp on the wall. Golden hair such as he'd never seen reached her midsection. The other woman was a netherbred and the soldier was one he'd seen before. As they entered the room and closed the door, Ulrich hurried away.

When he slipped into Rulf's room, his master was standing by his window, staring into the night. Rulf turned his head slightly when Ulrich approached.

"You move like a ghost, Ulrich."

"Pray pardon, my lord."

"Tell me, did you give the letter to the second minister?"

Ulrich nodded, "Yes, sire."

"Very well, you can retire for the night."

"Sire," Ulrich said. "I have something to tell you."

Rulf twisted his head to look at Ulrich. "Tell me already."

"My lord, I saw two women enter the chamber next to Prime Minister Cronus' quarters."

"Why are you telling me this, Ulrich?" Rulf's impatiently asked.

"One of the women had long golden hair that glistened in the light of the lamps." Ulrich watched Rulf twist to face him, his face enlivened. "But sire, I could not see her face. My lord, her face was covered."

A spark lit in Rulf's eyes that Ulrich had never seen before, not with any of the many women his master had taken. What was special about this lesser born? Ulrich was curious to see the woman for himself.

"What else can you tell me?"

"The soldier Frederick was with them, my lord," Ulrich replied. "Sire, there was something about how she moved, as though she was not keeping well."

Rulf's jaw tightened as he stepped closer to Ulrich that the manservant knew his master was upset. He stood his ground and waited for Rulf to speak.

"The other woman, who was she?" Rulf asked.

"My lord, I have never seen her before. She is new to the castle."

"Find out what you can about both women."

"Yes, my lord."

"And Ulrich, find out what they did to her."

As Ulrich left Rulf that night, he pondered the knight's reaction to the information. He then recalled an incident about a month ago, that made him think twice about Rulf's response.

Rulf had returned from a long journey and seemed quite upset. He'd mumbled and shouted at nothing in particular. Ulrich had been concerned that the Gerdanians were creating problems but now that he remembered well, the master had been disgruntled about a netherbred.

" _She is a_ netherbred _, a lesser!"_ Rulf had shouted that day. Now Ulrich was sure of whom Rulf was referring. Who was this netherbred woman and why was she important to him?

Rulf had to be careful. He had to make sure that the woman Ulrich saw was Catrain. A million questions crossed his mind. Why would Prime Minister Cronus hold Catrain prisoner? Did the nobleman want to make Catrain his concubine?

Sleep failed him that night as thoughts of the wretched minister touching Catrain penetrated his thoughts. Swinging his legs from the bed, he jumped to his feet and grabbed for his robe.

"What am I doing?" he muttered.

Careful was what he needed to be. For a second he'd had the crazy thought of going to Cronus' chamber to demand an explanation. Even if he was to find them cohabiting, how would he explain his interference? No knight would question a minister about whom he bedded. In fact, no one questioned any man about whom he slept with unless it was that man's woman.

Rulf tossed the robe aside and returned to his bed. Tension curled within his loins at the thought of her. It's been some time since he'd released himself and he knew quite a number of his companions were eagerly awaiting him to call for them. However, since Merek told him of Catrain's disappearance he hadn't the desire to call for anyone.

Perhaps tonight was the right time. His need for female attention was too great. Sliding from the bed, he strode to the wardrobe and pulled out a casual outfit, ignoring his knight's uniforms. He hadn't worn something like this in many moons. A strange feeling enveloped him as he finished dressing. Without consciously thinking about it, Rulf pulled on a feathered hat and robe. He looked completely different – like a minister.

Not certain of his exact moves or which female to conquer that night, he slipped from his chambers and headed east. He hadn't given the directions much thought until he was close to the ministers' lodgings.

"Good evening, Minister," a young soldier greeted.

Rulf gave a slight nod and continued on his way. The halls were quiet as many of the ministers and soldiers had already bedded down for the night. He continued, walking as though he was out for a night stroll.

As he approached the Prime Minister's area, he heard voices. Rulf shrunk into the shadows of the columns, thinking that Ulrich the ghost walker might have done the same. The Prime Minister was speaking to several soldiers. Rulf cruised the area and his eyes caught the door next to Cronus' dwelling. Guarding it were two soldiers, one of which was the traitor Frederick.

Catrain curled on the large bed with satin sheets. She'd have refused to take the bed if she wasn't in so much pain. A young maid, hovering like a mother hen spoke ludicrously to her.

"My lady, you must eat," the woman said.

Catrain would have corrected her if another shot of pain hadn't rendered her immobile. When they had taken her from the cell the night before, the girl had bathed her and dressed her in fine raiment such as she'd never hoped to wear. She had been too weak to protest or even figure out what was going on.

The girl was given a bed in the same chamber as her and it seemed she was to attend to her needs. Or at least she was to coerce her into eating. Did the girl think she was a noblite?

In the midst of her pain, all she could think about was how worried her father must be. Her escape plans were thwarted as she knew not where they had taken her. It must be somewhere in the main palace, but since she had never been inside, it was difficult to figure out which chamber they were keeping her.

"Princess, you must eat or you will become very ill."

"I ... ahhh!" she screamed, closing her eyes against the pain.

She thinks I'm a princess? Her thought process was fine, it was her body that was in turmoil. I must flee this godforsaken place. As she thought of her escape, a knock came at the door and the girl ran to open it.

"My lord, she's in pain."

Catrain forced her eyes open to see a man in scarlet and gold robe enter the room. One look at him told her he was a minister.

"I am Prime Minister Cronus, why won't you eat my dear child?" he asked her.

Forcing herself to sit up, ignoring the pain in her abdomen, she gritted her teeth.

"Set me free, ahh," she groaned between her words. "... and I shall be happy to enjoy food once more."

"I cannot do that Catrain, you are too important," he told her, waving the maid away.

The girl quickly departed the room as Catrain bit down another spurt of pain. The pain was coming in waves now as nausea also threatened to make her vomit.

"What importance," she breathed, her voice thin "... could a netherbred be?"

"All will be revealed in due time," he said and pleaded with her once more to take bread.

He stared down at her as she tried to figure out the meaning of his words. Was it her jewel? Her father's warning about her entering the place and never returning came back to her. He'd said that no one should see her pendant. Recalling the conversation, she closed her eyes.

"You must never enter the city gates," Merek had told her.

"Why pa?"

He sighed. "If you do they will never allow you to return home."

"But Pa, how is that so when no nether can reside or work there?"

"It's more complicated than that, Catrain."

"Oh Pa, you speak in riddles. Will a gallant knight snatch me and make me his wife?" she'd joked.

Her father's face had remained grim. Now she wondered what he was hiding from her and why his fear had materialized. Why was the Prime Minister holding her prisoner in a noblite bedchamber? What did she possess that he wanted?

Catrain leaned back on the pillows. What did all this mean? If they knew she possessed the fire aranitite, why didn't they just take it? Should she offer it? It then occurred to her that perhaps the Minister was not interested in making her his drabbelier or offering her to the soldiers. This was something different.

"Take meat, and I promise no harm will befall you," he reiterated.

As she opened her mouth to answer, the door burst open. The chambermaid rushed in, slamming the door behind her. "My lord, my lord, Frederick has been wounded!"

"How so?" The minister rushed from the bedside and headed to the door.

"There were swords drawn, my lord."

The chamber door opened, banging against the wall. Catrain's eyes bulged as Rulf made an entrance. Swiftly, he advanced on the Prime Minister. Cronus stepped back as the blade of the knight's sword met his neck.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" Cronus chuckled. "The mighty Fire Knight has come to rescue a netherbred?"

"Set her free," Rulf ordered.

Cronus scoffed. "Or else, what do you intend to do?"

"I will have great pleasure on passing this blade through your neck."

"Ha-ha," Cronus' sinister laugh resonated in the room. "Is she your drabbelier? I don't blame you she does make a good drab..."

"Shut your mouth!" Rulf hissed. "Catrain is no one's whore."

"Oh, I see you do know each other," Cronus laughed. "What is it between you two?"

"That is not your business," Rulf grated.

"Then perhaps the king has sent you?"

Rulf seemed puzzled. "The king? What has the king to do with a nether?"

Cronus laughed again. "Then I take it you are indeed smitten with her. She is quite fair - much fairer than the noblite women here."

"Catrain, come. We will depart this place and I will take you back to your father."

A few soldiers dashed into the room, their weapons at the ready. The one at the forefront braked as he saw the knight.

"Sir Knight ... Minister?"

The soldier seemed confused as he looked from one to the other. The others behind him looked equally confounded as what to do.

"You will do no such thing," Cronus said, then ordered his soldiers. "Take the Fire Knight."

As the soldiers moved to apprehend Rulf he snapped, "Come closer and your Prime Minister dies."

With the blade at his throat, Cronus didn't seem perturbed by it. By his smug expression, it was obvious he had something up his sleeves.

"I am unharmed, sheath your sword or she dies," Cronus said. "My soldiers have orders to ravage and kill her if anything should happen to me."

"Prime Minister, by the time your soldiers should get to her, I will have killed them all," Rulf said, his eyes settling on Catrain.

"What about your precious king? If you take her, the king dies. He is under my guard as we speak."

Pushing herself up, she stepped off the bed and stood. The attendant rushed to her side.

"Take him, he's a traitor!" the minister bellowed, then lowered his tone. It was obvious this was intended for Rulf's ears only, but Catrain heard it. "She dies, but not before a hundred or more men have their way with her. The king also dies."

Rulf eyed Catrain, a flicker crossing his face.

"Don't do it, Rulf!" Catrain yelled. "Don't ... _ahh_ ... do not lower your sword."

Pain caused her stomach to tighten and she slumped back unto the bed.

"My lady," The maid hastened to help her.

Rulf lowered his sword and strode to the bed. "Catrain, are you ill?"

"What a lovely couple," Cronus scoffed. "But I cannot allow either of you to thwart my plans."

The Prime Minister beckoned to the soldiers who sprang into action and disarmed Rulf. Catrain was certain that he allowed them to do so on her behalf. She itched to slap some sense into him. Kneeling beside the bed, he took her hand as she tried to communicate her anger at him for obeying the minister.

"You should never... _grimace_ ... have lowered ... _groan_ ... your sword."

"Don't talk," Rulf calmly instructed her before bellowing to the minister. "Get her a physician this instant."

"You are in no position to make demands, my dear boy."

"She in unwell!"

The minister turned to the soldiers. A few more had entered and he gave orders. "Guard them, be careful of that one. He is the Fire Knight. Don't let him near you or you are dead. Use your sword or dagger if you have to. I'll be back shortly."

The Minister left and several soldiers lingered inside the room, their swords in hand. Catrain knew that others also guarded the outside. Still kneeling beside the bed, Rulf touched her cheek.

"You look pallid. What have they done to you?"

"My lord?" It was the handmaid. "The princess refuses to eat."

"I am not...," Catrain started to say, but Rulf placed a hand on her mouth and shook his head.

The handmaid continued, "They said she hasn't eaten in days and she has not taken meat since I was assigned to her as well."

"Go fetch fare for the lady," Rulf instructed. "Go quickly."

"Yes, my lord."

"No...," Catrain whispered.

As the chambermaid left the room Rulf turned back to Catrain. "You must eat if you wish to live."

"I would rather die than eat their food or be their slave."

"Don't you wish to see your father again?"

Her eyes flicked to his and they held his gaze.

"Catrain," Rulf spoke in an undertone that only she could hear. "If you want to escape these walls, you must regain your strength and fight."

"Fight?"

"You handle yourself well with the sword. Would you like to fight alongside the Fire Knight?"

"With you?"

"Hmm," he nodded. "The king's life was also threatened. We must fight to be free."

Catrain grimaced as another wave of pain assailed her. "Why did you stop me from telling her the truth?"

"We must first find the minister's motive," he said. "The attendant believes you are a noblite or royalite – let her continue to believe so. The Prime Minister must have a reason why he has assigned you a maid and given you this chamber."

"I thought the same," she replied. "But isn't it against the law for a nether to work in the palace?"

"No, it's an unspoken rule but was never put in writing."

"Oh."

"Now promise you will eat and get better so that we can find the reason behind all this."

Giving the matter some thought, she finally acquiesced, "I promise."

Curiosity killed the crolouth. That's what she'd been taught since her childhood. Guinevere was never one to quench her curiosity. Therefore, if she was the crolouth, she'd perhaps used all fifteen lives a long time ago.

The Petarian kingdom's hierarchy was the same as Cronada – royalites at the head and derges as the dregs. Guinevere learned that the king's lover was the queen's most trusted chambermaid – which meant she was a hala. The rumor among the staff was that the woman poisoned the queen in order to get the king to marry her. Since the wedlock laws were abolished in Petaria, it was possible that the king could marry her especially if she was with child.

Guinevere also discovered that murdering a queen was a treasonous crime throughout all the kingdoms in the region. The punishment would be determined by the court council.

Her chambermaid proved useful in getting her all the information about the queen and about the king's lover. Guinevere had found favor with the king the morning she'd encountered him in the garden. Now, if she could prove the rumors correct, perhaps the king would grant her a wish and allow her to leave and return Cronada.

Over the past few days of being in Petaria, she had calmed down some. She'd vowed never to return home, but now she was feeling restless about staying. If she got the chance, maybe she could convince Rulf to marry.

First, she must seek council with the king, as his cooperation would be of the utmost importance. Moving quickly, she left her chambers and went in search of him. She wasn't certain he would see her in the throne room, but if he was out in the garden that would be better.

The morning air was as frigid as it had been on the morning she met the king in the garden. Now she moved with purpose, pulling her coat about her. The garden was empty and this disappointed her. It appeared that the king was not about his usual morning walk.

Guinevere was not deterred by this. Returning to the palace, she headed to the throne room where she expected him to be. On her way there, she met him heading out. She smiled and halted her steps, awaiting his approach.

"My lady," he greeted casually. "I see you have taken your morning stroll already."

"Yes, my king, I was hoping to see you."

"To see me?" he asked lightly. "Is it something important?"

She dared stepped closer and one of his guards blocked her path. The king waved him away and beckoned her to come close.

"May I have word with you in private, Your Majesty?"

"Shall we return to the hall or do we walk in the garden?"

The halls may not be safe enough to discuss what was on her mind. The garden was open where an eavesdropper could easily be seen.

"I shall walk with you, my king."

_Three days after the Fire knight entered_ Catrain's _room._

The king of Cronada sat upon his dais, confounded about what the Prime Minister accused him. Perhaps Cronus was losing his mind in his old age. The Prime Minister was around the same age as he was, near sixty. Still, he'd known many such men who lost their minds easily.

"You are the king and you have broken the law of the land!" Cronus bellowed.

Syreus folded his fist and pounded the armrest of his throne. "Have you gone completely insane Cronus? What law have I broken?"

"The law of mating and wedlock that our forefathers have decreed."

"You must have some death wish, Cronus," the king said, rising to his feet. "You are seriously crossing your limits."

The king advanced on the Prime Minister who had entered the throne room with a small contingent of high-ranking soldiers. A shadow of darkness fell on the king as he realized what Rulf had been trying to tell him about treachery in the palace.

"This is high treason, Cronus and I will not stand for it."

Cronus laughed. "You will not stand for it? Are you denying that you have impregnated a netherbred?"

"I have never lain with a netherbred let alone impregnated one."

"You seem to forget easily, my king," Cronus smirked. "I believe her name was Zenaida."

About to speak, the king snapped his mouth shut and returned to his seat. What did the Prime Minister know about Zenaida? This was not something that should be discussed. The name caused his heart to skip a beat.

"You are losing your mind, Cronus," the king said, his features hardening. "I know not what you are saying."

"Are you denying this?" The Prime minister asked.

The king was growing impatient. "We have a war on our hands and here you speak gobbledygook," Syreus snapped. "I implore you, drop the matter."

"Ha-ha, not so my king."

King Syreus rose from his seat and walked to the north window. His eyes settled on the Black Eagle Mountains, but his mind went back into the past. Some memories must remain hidden, he decided. Some secrets from the past could ruin the future. He'd given his blood oath to take whatever happened in the past to the grave. No matter how Cronus threatened or what the Prime Minister thought he knew, Syreus knew he must remain resolute in keeping his silence.

"You will renounce the throne," Cronus' voice broke into the king's memories. "You and your dergabred must leave Cronada at once."

"I will do no such thing," the king calmly replied. "Now, will you leave the matter and let's discuss the plans for tomorrow?"

"Are you trying to deviate from the issue?" Cronus' tone took on a note of incredulity.

"I warn you, Cronus ... I order you to drop this nonsense of yours at once!"

"You must think I am daft, sire. I know the truth which you are trying to deny."

"Then prove it," the king suggested. "You keep speaking about a child. Produce some evidence of this dergabred you care about so much along with its netherbred mother."

Cronus grinned, "That's the best thing you've said all day."

The Prime Minister bowed before leaving the room with a broad smile on his face. Could there be a child, which the Prime Minister believed to be the king's seed? Where would he get such a child?

"No, not possible," the king muttered. "He must be fabricating the entire thing. This is a ruse to appoint a new king."

The king moved toward the door but soldiers in uniforms he did not recognize blocked it. He stopped, taking note of their faces. They avoided eye contact as their expressions remained staunch.

"Step aside," he demanded.

"Pardon us, sire," one soldier said. "We have strict orders not to let you out of this room."

So this was the plan ... to accuse him without evidence, then take the throne? Syreus was now curious to know how many of his ministers were working with Cronus. Was this what Rulf meant about someone betraying him inside the palace? Returning to the dais, he took his seat as he pondered the situation and tried to formulate a solution.

Meanwhile in King Christoffle's Castle...

"I give you my word, if you can prove this theory of yours, you can have anything you wish for."

Those words from the king brought Guinevere a ray of hope. It would take some time to do the work she needed to do. Fortunately, the king gave his approval to prove that the queen was indeed poisoned. In the process, she would reveal the culprit as well.

Her father, a palace physician, a relative of the Cronadian royal family had spent his life studying the different kinds of poisons, their origins, and antidotes. Guinevere's grandmother had been poisoned and that was the driving force behind her father's quest.

The king agreed to distract his lover that night in order for Guinevere to search the kitchen first and then the handmaid's chamber.

"Why do I need to call her to me?" the king had questioned.

"She is the senior handmaid for the queen. We must be discreet in our mission to find the truth. I will use my own handmaids for this mission, my king. That way, the queen's maids will not be the wiser."

"I see. Very well, I will call her to me tonight. Do well and find this truth you seek."

The conversation with the king revealed several other things about which Guinevere was curious. The king had doubts about the queen's health, but the palace physicians could find nothing that revealed she was poisoned. In addition, he loved his queen and only took a concubine at her request.

She figured that if this lover was plotting to kill the queen, the king knew nothing about it. In fact, he had no intention of making the handmaid his queen.

"I will not abandon my people. We are in the middle of a Godforsaken war!"

Cronus had his minions escort Syreus from the throne room to one of the ministers' meeting rooms. Three other ministers were present, including Aldridge, as well as the soldiers serving the minister. For some odd reason, Syreus did not see one of the soldiers he counted as loyal to the throne. All these seemed to be soldiers chosen specifically to serve Cronus' sinister plan.

Their uniforms were different, even the swords they wielded were dissimilar to the standard issue. _How long has he been planning this_? This can't have been some accidental discovery. It must have been long in the planning.

Syreus strode to the window on the west side of the private ministers' hall. At the back of the room was an entrance used by the king, which led to the great chamber. There was another window on the north wall as well as another door leading to a sequestered minister's office.

The courtyard below was busy with preparations for the soldiers who arrived from Prasia just a few days ago. The war with the rebels was getting darker on the outside. What an opportune time for the minister to make his move.

Cronus stood a few paces behind, his loyal soldiers never far away. It came to the king's attention that his own guards were replaced by those loyal to the minister. He hadn't seen Rulf in a few days as well and he worried for the young knight.

A shuffle behind him caused him to turn. Escorted into the room was an old man, whose back hunched terribly. His face was down as they brought him to stand before Syreus.

"What is the meaning of this Cronus?" Syreus asked. "Who is this man?"

"Don't you recognize your own attendant?"

"My what?" Syreus was confused before it dawned on him who the man was.

Archemus was his manservant many years ago who also served his father. Syreus stepped closer as the petrified man lifted his eyes.

"Archemus?"

"It is, my king," the man replied, his voice shaky.

Cronus grinned. "Tell the king what you know, Archemus."

"I know nothing, Prime Minister."

"Didn't you say that the king snuck someone into the palace and you were sworn to silence?" Cronus questioned.

"When did I say that, sire?"

"You told me that you remembered the night she ran away."

"Who?"

Cronus' frustration registered in his voice as his face twisted in anger. "For God's sake Archemus - Zenaida!"

"Who is she?" the old man asked. "I don't recall telling you that."

"Just the other day we spoke of it and you said you remembered."

"Prime Minister, I am a senile old man, I cannot remember what happened two decades ago."

Cronus was not deterred. He bent and spoke softly to the old man whose countenance immediately changed into one of fear. Syreus knew that Cronus must have threatened the old manservant. The king saw that Archemus tried to portray his apologies to him and he braced himself for the fallout.

Archemus looked at the king as he spoke. "The king hid a nether in his bedchamber. We were sworn to silence."

"Can you swear to this in front of all the council?"

Archemus hesitated, looking directly at the king. But when he glanced at Cronus, terror reflected in his eyes.

"Yes, Prime Minister."

Cronus signaled to the soldiers. "Take him back to his dwelling and guard him well."

"Is this the proof you have?" Syreus asked. "Do you expect me to abdicate on the word of a senile old man?"

Cronus came close, so much so Syreus felt his breath fan his face. In a low deadly tone, the Prime Minister spoke only for his ears.

"Then you and your bastard will die," Cronus said, his voice like steel. "You will watch her suffer then I will take the lives of everyone important to you including your beloved Fire Knight."

The king gripped Cronus' robe. "Rulf? What have you done with him?"

Cronus shrugged off the king's grip and smoothed his robe. "He is safe for now along with your dergabred princess. She thinks she is a netherbred since she has lived life as a lesser until now. A pity she doesn't know her true paternity."

The king chuckled. "I am amazed how imaginative you are Cronus. Such a wonderful tale you weave."

Cronus ignored the king's sarcasm and continued, "You say you love your people, then prove it. Renounce or face impeachment."

"You are losing your mind, Cronus."

The minister brushed invisible lint from the king's shoulder while he continued in his undertone. "You do as I say or lose both your daughter and Rulf along with your beloved people."

"What do you mean by my _beloved people_?"

Cronus scanned the room before turning back with his answer. "I have given orders to burn the villages under the guise of the rebels. After we burn the villages, we will invade the palace and destroy everything."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, dear king."

The king shook his head in disbelief. "If you destroy everything, what will there be to inherit?"

"I, the Prime Minister will come in to save the day. I will restore order to the kingdom and the people will honor me as their hero. When I nominate myself as king, they will have no choice but to hail their hero."

"You cannot follow this foolhardy plan of yours," Syreus interjected. "You will need the approval of the Council and Army Command to remove me as well as to become king. The Council must review the successors carefully before appointing a king."

Cronus gave a scornful laugh and summoned his soldiers. Four of his devotees approached the king and flanked him on all sides. Syreus' eyes bulged as he stared at the minister in awe.

"Don't worry about that. I have enough votes on my side to carry out my plan. You will soon see," Cronus replied. "Arrest the king," Cronus shouted the command.

"At least show me this bastard child you speak of," the king said. "You cannot arrest me without proof of a crime."

"Very well," Cronus complied then turned to the soldiers. "Guard the king, but be careful, he was a master swordsman in his day."

The Prime Minister left the room, followed by the other ministers who had been watching the exchange with the king. About a dozen more soldiers joined those already there, surrounding the king and guarding the door. The king now recognized a few faces that were once his own guards but now wore the new uniform. He was amazed that the Prime minister had earned the loyalty of the army. He wondered how many troops the minister managed to coerce into serving him and how many remained loyal to the throne.

The door opened and the two ministers of the Court Council entered along with Aldridge, a deputy commander and one of the army's generals. Cronus followed closely the behind group. With him were three knights in training, escorting a female. A black cloth covered her face. The woman didn't look like a netherbred as the minister had insisted. She was dressed in noblite attire.

"Is this the bastard you accuse me of ... the netherbred?" The king inquired, pushing through the soldiers.

The Prime Minister smirked, then in one swift movement snatched the cloth from the woman's face. Syreus braked, his face losing color. For a long time he stared until he appeared to regain his composure.

"Now that I have seen her, I can confirm that nether is not of my loins," Syreus stated. "Now return the poor child home lest I have you arrested for kidnapping."

Catrain blinked to adjust her eyes to the brightness of the room. Her chambers had been unusually dim due to the curtains being drawn all day long. Now she was standing amongst many soldiers in a brightly lit room. Someone had spoken and then the minister removed the covering from her face. Looking around, she tried to make sense of what was happening.

The faces of the men seemed quite serious. Some stared at her as though she was some odd spectacle. A group of men dressed similarly as Cronus spoke in almost a whisper to a man who Catrain believed to be a high ranked soldier.

It was then she noticed the man standing some distance away. His face was pale as he stared at her bug-eyed. His attire was one of the highest royalty. Though she'd never seen the king, her father had told her many things about him.

Having never been inside the palace, Merek had still taught his daughter about the ranks of the royalites and noblites, the ministers and all who served the king. She knew exactly who the man was and some amount of dread settled over her. Why was she brought before the king? Was it because she refused his order to come to the castle to serve the soldiers? Was she now to be the king's concubine?

The king stared at her, a strange expression spread over his face. A look in his eyes was inexplicable as well. After some moments, he threw his shoulders back and his face regained some color.

"Now that I have seen her, I can confirm that nether is not of my loins," Syreus stated. "Now return the poor child home lest I have you arrested for kidnapping."

_What is the king talking about?_ She would have asked, but she remained silent, trying to make sense of his words. 'She is not of my loins' echoed in her brain. Did the Prime Minister think the king was her father? No, that couldn't be. Shrugging the stupid thought from her mind, she took a deep breath and turned to the minister.

"I demand to know what crime I committed."

The Minister laughed. "Crime? You are not a criminal my dear, but the daughter of one."

"My father is no criminal," she denied. "What crime has he committed?"

Cronus gave a sly smile. "My king, tell your daughter what crime you committed."

Catrain scrunched her face in confusion. "What are you...?" her words trailed off. "Is this some joke? Are you out of your mind, minister?"

"Watch your tongue, you are still a netherbred in the books," Cronus scolded.

"Yes, and my father is Merek, the farmer."

"Not so my dear bastard princess," Cronus replied. "Behold your father who sits on the throne."

"You certainly have lost your mind, Prime Minister," Catrain retorted.

Whatever the minister was planning involved using her to get to the king. Catrain casted her eyes in the king's direction and noticed him staring at her with that strange look. What was it? Why was he looking at her in that manner? Did the king believe this garbage? Did he break the law and bed a nether?

If the king did break the law, then he played right into the Cronus' hand to execute his crooked plan.

Returning to his seat, the king leaned back and closed his eyes. The guards were standing on either side of the throne with their weapons at the ready.

One of the ministers entered the dais and spoke to the king. "Sire, of this deed you supposedly committed, you tell us. Is there any truth to it?"

"Aldridge, how can you ask that? I have known you since you were a boy and I was preparing to take the throne. Do you believe I committed such a deed?"

"I believe in you, sire," Aldridge stated, turning to the rest of the men. "This is a false accusation on our king. I will not support it."

Catrain was more concerned with setting herself free. What should she do? If she tried to disarm one of the soldiers, could she manage to free herself? Would it be safe? What if they harmed the king? Many questions ran through her mind as she pondered her escape.

The Prime Minister didn't seem perturbed by what the other minister said. Instead, Cronus turned to the guard at the door and instructed. "Bring him in."

The soldier turned and left the room. Catrain was curious about whom he was speaking and anxiously watched the door. Briefly, she wondered if he was referring to Rulf. When the door opened again, her heart stopped for a second. Someone shoved her father into the room and he tumbled forward. Catrain's mind buzzed with questions as to why they brought him there.

"Pa?" she sprinted to her father, ignoring the soldiers trying to block her. "Papa, oh papa!"

"Now, now Catrain. You are safe, I knew you were here."

"What, you knew where I was and didn't come to get me?"

A movement behind Catrain made her turn as her father stared at someone behind her. The king had come up behind them, a glint in his eyes. The most shocking thing was when Merek knelt with his right hand over his left breast, taking the knight's bow.

"You are alive I see," the king grated.

"I beg your forgiveness my king, I did it for the throne."

Catrain touched her father. "Pa, what are you talking about?"

"Get to your feet and face me like a man, Sir Merced," Syreus grated. "You betrayed your king!"

Merek remained on his knees as Catrain looked from king to her father. Why was the king addressing her father as Sir Merced? Things were getting more muddled with every passing minute. Even the Prime Minister seemed confused as he also stepped forward. The one named Aldridge also ambled forward, but he didn't appear as surprised as Cronus and the king were.

"Sir Merced?" Cronus said. "Was he not one of the invisible knights you kept hidden from everyone?"

The king ignored Cronus and addressed Merek. "I trusted you and you betrayed that trust."

"The cobbler was Sir Merced?" Cronus inquired. The minister's face had gone ashen as he stared at the man.

Something about Cronus' reaction struck Catrain as odd. The smugness from earlier had completely disappeared to be replaced by despair. Did this revelation about her father foil his plans? She hoped it did. More than that, her father had some explaining to do.

King Syreus grabbed Merek by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. The king then doubled a fist and landed it on Merek's cheek. The man reeled back, landing on his ass.

"No!" Catrain rushed to her father, but was restrained by a soldier.

"Let me explain, Your Majesty."

"Shut up!" the king shouted and turned to the soldiers. "This is a traitor of the throne, arrest him!"

The soldiers looked at Cronus for confirmation. He shook his head and they stood their ground. However, his face showed his shock at the rivalry between the king and the knight who was supposedly dead. According to the king's speech, Catrain assumed as much.

Listening to Cronus, the king and her father, she garnered much information. The man who lived only miles away across the river as the farmer, was the same man who posed as the king's cobbler in order to serve as a knight. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, I think this is even better than I planned," Cronus laughed.

The king stepped to Cronus. They were about the same height. But somehow the king seemed taller. His presence was somewhat daunting and Cronus visibly cringed even though he put on a brave face. The look on the king's face was deadly.

"How did you find this man and why have you brought him here? Is he your ally in trying to destroy me?"

"No," Catrain knelt, grabbing the king's feet. "Please, my father is no traitor."

The king looked down at her, his face softening. "Your father?"

"Yes, sire. He is my father."

The king nodded and turned to Cronus, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What more proof do you need that this netherbred is not my child?"

While the king distracted Cronus, the unease of the situation spread amongst the soldiers. The divide was obvious as some stood behind the king and others sided with Conus.

Catrain inched close to the minister and as she moved, her hand brushed the pummel of a soldier's sword. With her quick wit and agility, she gripped the handle of the weapon, pulling it from the soldier's belt. Before he could make an alarm, she held the sword to the minister's neck. Soldiers on both sides drew their weapons in a standoff.

"Set us free or die," she hissed

"If I die, you die as well."

Catrain snickered. "Do you think I care?"

Moving her wrist just a little, the blade pressed into the man's skin. Cronus nodded and the soldiers stepped back, their weapons aimed at her.

Merek scrambled to his feet, his face becoming austere. "The Prime Minister has been planning this for a long time. I knew the day would come that he would use her to get to you."

Syreus clutched Merek's shoulders, "Keep silent, you nincompoop!"

"I only speak the truth," Merek said to the king.

"Let him speak, my dear king," Cronus said.

The king glared at Merek. "You will do as I command if you have any loyalty left inside you. Say nothing more."

Catrain's eyes flitted from one to the other. Was her father really a knight and did he betray the king? It was obvious the king was angry with him. Even more so, why didn't king let him speak? What secret was there between them?

Rulf doubled over on the floor, roaring like a wounded bear. The guards rushed over, bending over the figure in pain as he twisted and howled once more, clutching his belly.

One of the soldiers reached out to touch his shoulder. Rulf twisted, grabbing the soldier's weapon by the hilt. The soldier rocked back on his heel as the tip of the sword levelled with his nose.

"Now, who do you serve ... the king or the Prime Minister?" Other men drew their swords and advanced. "Stand back or you all die," Rulf commanded.

A brave soldier rushed forward with his sword slashing the air. In the blink of an eye, Rulf sprang to his feet, grabbed the soldier whose sword he captured. Spinning him around, he held him in a tight chokehold with his free hand. The swords clanged in the room as Rulf countered an attack. The man sliced. Rulf sidestepped, pulling his captive with him, using him as a shield. The soldier whose neck was held fast by Rulf's powerful arm closed his eyes. His face was filled with terror as the opponent's swords came close to his face a few times.

"Soldier, what is your name?" Rulf asked as he countered the attack.

"The name's Stopher. I shall be remembered for bringing the Fire Knight to his knees."

However, the advancing soldier almost lost his balance and he cursed under his breath. Rulf saw an opening and sliced across his chest. The blade ripped through three layers of clothing, revealing a gash on the flesh. The soldier yelped but kept advancing. Rulf noticed how his hand shook and slapped his arm with the flat of the blade.

"I do not wish to harm you, Stopher," Rulf said. "Drop your sword."

"You are a traitor, you must be stopped," the solider snapped.

At that moment, the door opened and a soldier Rulf knew by the name Jorde, hurried in, his breathing labored. "We've been tricked!"

Stopher paused his sword mid-air. "What do you mean?"

"The Prime Minister has arrested the king and accused the king of a crime!" Jorde shouted. "Who shall we believe?"

Stopher's face grew red as he lowered his weapon. A few soldiers who had drawn their weapons joined at Rulf's side.

"The prime Minister said that the knight was a traitor to the king," Stopher said and the others nodded in agreement.

"Are you with the king?" Rulf asked the one he was holding prisoner. "Pledge your allegiance or die."

"I am with the king," he replied.

Rulf slowly released him but did not hand him the weapon.

"Wait!" Stopher yelled. "What if the king is guilty of this crime?"

"What nonsense!" a soldier retorted. "What crime was he accused of committing?"

"Breeding with a nether," the newest arrival replied.

A few soldiers sighed with relief.

"I thought it was something serious. Bedding a nether isn't so bad," one soldier declared. "Have you taken a good look at these women?"

"Yes, I tell you. That's why I haven't taken a wife," another said. "I can't leave these nether damsels."

Rulf was losing his patience. "If you are done talking rubbish, can we save the king now?"

However, a group of the minister's minions blocked the door, with a commanding officer at the forefront. Rulf knew of him but could not remember his name. He bore the epaulette of a high-ranking officer, perhaps newly promoted.

"You shall do no such thing," the commander said.

Rulf pushed through the group that had now joined him, his impatience showing. "Step aside soldier or face my wrath."

"I have strict orders from my commander in chief and I intend to obey them," the officer said.

Rulf rolled his eyes as the beginning of anger settled over him. He'd been pussyfooting around these incompetent fools, now he was worried about the king and Catrain. Was the Prime Minister accusing the king of bedding Catrain? He gave himself a mental shake. _No. Merek said that_ Catrain _had never entered the palace. How would the king have met her?_

"I don't have time for this," Rulf muttered. "I must finish this charade."

Rulf made one step forward, lifted himself a couple of feet in the air and came down slashing with his sword. This took the officer by surprise and his sword crashed to the ground as Rulf's blade smashed into it with a mighty force.

"Now let me pass before I am forced to shed your blood!"

A lightheaded feeling assailed Catrain. Not eating for many days had taken its toll. She tried eating the soup and bread the girl had brought, but could not get it all down. She had felt better after taking some medicines, but now she was dizzy. As she listened to the exchange between the king, the minister and her father, she knew she could hold out no longer.

The sword loosened from her grasp and she staggered back. A soldier moved to hold her up but she shrugged him off.

"Don't touch...," the words trailed off and she slumped against the soldier.

Even the soldier's strong arms were not enough to keep her from falling, her knees were giving out and there was nothing she could do to stop them. While her gelatinous knees embarrassed her, her innards quivered as her eyelids dropped. The voices were distant now and she knew she was sinking into the abyss. Her eyelids closed as the darkness covered her like a blanket.

Her eyes fluttered opened. The first thing she saw was her father's concerned expression. She smiled as he brushed her cheek and asked her if she was okay. She didn't get a chance to answer him.

"Drop your weapons!" a command came from the entrance.

At the same time that the voice shouted the order at the main door, a man flew through the north window while another burst through the king's secretive entry.

The room became chaotic as soldiers rushed towards each other. Catrain scrambled to her feet and inhaled a steadying breath. She was uncertain how long she'd been out for. Nevertheless, she felt fine. While Catrain searched for a weapon, her father had already commandeered a sword and approached the minister. A few of Cronus' underlings blocked Merek and a combat ensued.

Cronus' voice broke through the din of clanging swords, "Execute them all!"

"Sire?" a soldier queried.

"Are you deaf?" Cronus bellowed. "Execute the traitors to the kingdom!" he shouted his command, pointing at the king and then Merek. "The king has defaced our great name!"

Catrain was about to disarm a soldier when someone gripped her arm and pulled her away. She tried to wrangle herself free when she saw Rulf engaging with a soldier. Some of the soldiers were following Cronus' orders and rushed in their direction. Rulf's men and her father blocked their path by engaging them in combat.

"Rulf," she breathed. "Pa!"

"Let the soldiers and knights handle this," the king said.

Realizing it was he who held her, she relaxed and allowed him to lead her to the back of the room. Once there, he indicated she follow him through the private passage. The soldiers there stepped aside to let them through, some following closely. These were loyal to the king. Once they entered the passageway, the king turned left. Catrain pulled back.

"I can't leave my father and Rulf."

The king paused and looked gravely at her. "You know Rulf?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry about the knight, he has exceptional gifts and Merced was the best swordsman Cronada has even seen."

They continued moving through a narrow passage. There were several doors they passed which she assumed led to other meeting rooms or chambers. After some time, they turned left again, and the king pushed open a door which took them to a large room. This she assumed was the great chamber. On the four walls hung various weapons. A humongous bed sat in the center on a wide rug. Included was a large chest to the right, a desk against a wall and the door to his wardrobe. The king hurried to the wall at the head of the bed and pulled a sword.

"Guard her well," he instructed the guards who had followed them. "No harm must come to her."

"No, I will not remain here alone," Catrain protested.

The king lay his hand on her head, the way her father would. "You must stay out of harm's way, my child."

"You said my father was the greatest swordsman Cronada had ever seen, well he taught me to fight and I will not sit still while he is in battle."

"You are as stubborn as your...," the king began but withdrew his words.

Catrain had no time to ponder what he meant to say. She was looking at the weapons, trying to decide which to take. The king began to leave the room through the passage they had entered.

"My uncle taught me to use the bow and I am capable of using a dagger."

Syreus stopped and turned with a frown. "Your Uncle?"

"Yes, my uncle Brogue. Another one of my uncles perished in the war when the rebels invaded Gerdan."

"Who told this to you?" he asked.

"My uncle Brogue."

"Merced has no siblings," the king remarked, frowning deeply. "Who is this uncle of which you speak?"

"Stop changing the subject, Your Majesty. I will join the battle."

"No you will not."

"Look, Your Majesty, I don't know what's going on, but I wont sit still while my father is in danger. If you leave me here, I will find a way to escape and get to my father."

To prove her point, she sprinted to the window. The guards ran after her, but she was faster and was halfway through the open window when the king stopped her.

Looking below her, she noticed that soldiers were coming in from all directions of the city. They were surrounding the palace building with their weapons drawn. Shouts from below told her that there was an upheaval. The king joined her at the window and gently gripped her arm. His face showed his dismay when he looked below.

"Very well," he relented. "Take a weapon and stay close to me. If you go through that window, God knows what Cronus will do once he catches you."

Catrain felt that something of this sort would work. The king seemed as over protective as her father and uncle had been. Something was amiss and she needed to know what that was. One thing was certain, it appeared that she, Catrain, had become the king's Achilles' heel.

Catrain lifted the hem of her dress and tore it, then tied the two ripped ends together. The dress now lifted above her ankle giving her free movement. Her eyes travelled over all four walls then came to rest on a bejeweled bow, its quiver hanging nearby. A stone the size of a thumbnail nested in the grip. The gem reminded her of the one hanging around her neck. It beckoned her and she obeyed its call.

"Not that one," Syreus said. "I have never been able to get that off the wall since Esmerelda set it there. That stone is an amulet, she says."

But Catrain knew that she had to have that weapon and ignored the king's words. When she reached the wall, she reached up and held the grip, expecting it to take some strength to come free. A gasp left her lips as the bow came off without effort.

King Syreus face lost its color, much as before. Now he gripped his chest as his knees buckled.

"Sire, are you alright?"

Footsteps sounded in the passage as well as the corridor outside the main door. Outside, the loud crunching of soldiers' feet marching could be heard

"Sire!" Catrain rushed to his side.

"I am fine," he winced. "Just indigestion."

While standing to his feet, the passage door opened and Rulf rushed through, followed by her father.

"My king, we must leave here at once," Rulf suggested. "The Ministers are all under guard and Cronus has ordered the execution of us all."

"That is ridiculous, I cannot abandon my people," Syreus insisted, still gripping at his chest.

Rulf rushed to his side as a loud bullhorn sounded across the Kingdom City. All eyes looked to the window, puzzled looks on their faces.

"That's the sound of the bullhorn whenever there is a decree," Syreus remarked. "What is that minister up to now?"

The bullhorn sounded again from the direction of the pavilion overlooking the palace bailey. The sound of footsteps running below alerted them that the soldiers were headed there. The bullhorn came a third time, which would mean that all residents of Kingdom City would be expected to meet at the main courtyard.

Syreus moved to the main door, but Merek stepped in his path

"I agree with Rulf, sire," Merek said. "Cronus's men are, this minute, at the door ready to take you to your death."

Syreus glared at Merek. "You traitor ... is this your doing?"

"Not so, my lord," Merek replied. "I am your true servant and I never did betray you."

"ENOUGH!"

Syreus rushed to Merek, gripping him by the neck. Catrain grabbed the king's hand and tried to pry them apart.

"Tell me what you want," King Syreus demanded. "What do you want? Have you come to destroy me and my kingdom?"

"Quench the fire in the dragon's eyes."

"What?" Syreus' face became stricken before his hands dropped to his sides.

Merek repeated the words. Staggering back, Syreus' hand came up to rest on his head. Catrain, more puzzled than anyone else, wanted to know what was happening, but the pounding on the main door caused everyone to spring into action.

"Come, sire," Rulf urged. "We have sealed the door from the ministers' hall. We have but little time before they break the main door down."

Syreus pointed to the bed. "There, the trapdoor is there."

Rulf moved to the bed as the announcement came through the bullhorn. "King Syreus has abandoned Cronada, he has abdicated his throne!" It was one of the ministers of the council.

"What is he saying?" Syreus yelled.

"Sire," one of the guards approached. "Cronus' men are closing in. They have orders to execute you." The soldier moved to the door as the pounding increased. "You must get to safety and we will keep them at bay."

Merek and Rulf both shifted the bed from the center of the room, barring the main door with it. In the meantime, Catrain removed several weapons from the wall, including a sword, darts and a stiletto. While they were busy preparing to escape, Cronus was busy defacing the king's good name.

"The king has committed a crime worthy of exile!" the voice came through the bullhorn. "He has impregnated a nether woman and has now abandoned his throne for his dergabred daughter."

"If I get my hands on that minister, I'll tear him apart," Catrain shrieked. "Whom is he referring to as dergabred? I am not the king's daughter!"

The king patted her shoulder in a bid to keep her calm. She exhaled a steadying breath as her blood ran hot in her veins. That Cronus would feel of her hands, she swore.

Rulf tore back the large rug on which the bed sat, revealing a wooden hatch in the floor. Then he stopped to give the king's guards instructions.

"As soon as we are through, you return the bed to its rightful place and escape through the passage. A few of the Minister's soldiers are lying dead in the passage, take their raiment and make your escape. You must do it quickly!"

"Yes, Sir Knight."

_Night 1 of investigation ..._ Petarian _Palace_

Vinegar, salt, the juice from the granny fingers root and the blue blush gerenitite crystals was her weapon of choice. The gerenitite crystal was a brittle crystal formation found in caves. Due to the crumbly nature of this crystal, it was generally considered worthless as it was unable to be made into jewelry or ornaments. But to people like Guinevere's father this was invaluable.

With this colorless concoction, one could find any trace of potions and poisons used on anyone. She could even use it to test someone's sweat and urine if needed.

Taking a brush made from horse's hair, Guinevere set to work. The downside was that she would need to make a new batch every night as the mixture only lasted for a few hours and then it turned dark blue, which would be of no use.

On the first night of her investigation, Guinevere examined the cup in which Queen Zenevia's tea was served. Using her solution, she discovered a reddish color residue remained inside the teacup and a soup bowl, even after washing.

The hala chambermaid was with the king as he'd promised and she was free to enter Queen Zenevia's chamber. The king gave orders to allow Guinevere to pay her respects to the queen, allowing her free entry for her work.

Compassion for the queen who Guinevere thought was quite exquisite, brought tears to her eyes. When Guinevere entered the room, the lady weakly opened hers. Her frail figure lay unmoving on the silken sheets. The deep purple hue of her skin was a sign to Guinevere that she was indeed poisoned. Even though the queen was lying ill in bed, Guinevere paid her respects by curtsying.

"I am Guinevere, King's Syreus' niece," she spoke softly to the queen as she knelt at the bedside. "I am here to find the truth about your illness."

She saw that the woman found it difficult to speak. Inhaling deeply, Zenevia beckoned her close.

"The physician ... could not find ...," the queen paused for breath, her voice coming out in gasps. "How will you?"

"Don't worry, I am learned in the art of poisons and toxins."

The queen frowned. "Poison?" she breathed.

"I believe so," Guinevere replied. "My queen, the king is troubled you won't see him. Please, allow him to visit you. He loves you so much."

"The king?"

"Yes, my lady."

After the short conversation with the queen, it was obvious the lady was exhausted. Guinevere touched the queen's forehead as she moaned softly. The woman's skin was hot as sheens of sweat glistened on her forehead.

_Perfect_ , she thought. _I will see what her sweat has to tell me._ Upon applying the solution to the queen's forehead, it didn't take long until her skin changed color to a deep blush, much deeper than the residue in the cup had been.

Zenevia was asleep when she left the royal chamber and returned to her own room. Once there, she pulled out her father's journals about poisons. She found one such concoction returned this color after using her solution. The poison was called the Rose of Secyinth. The odor was a subtle scent of rose petals, which made it very enticing to the nostrils. The poison was tasteless and could be added to any food or drink without detection.

Guinevere imagined the queen smelling her tea and asking why it scented of roses. The response would be that they added the edible rose petals to her tea to sooth her senses and calm her stomach.

The queen's skin returned a deep blush because it was likely she'd ingested quite a large amount. Checking her notes from the time the queen became ill, she would say that she started ingesting the poison three weeks ago. Guinevere concluded that the amount the queen consumed was administered in small doses, which would make her ill and gradually become worse. Her death would eventually result when the amount in her body reached the fatal dosage.

Scrutinizing her father's many journals yielded no antidote. Apparently, he had not found the medicine to counter such a toxic tincture. His notes revealed that the poison was known as the secret elixir, which was used to murder many kings and queens. There was only one thing Guinevere could do and that was to bring justice for the queen.

Leaving her room, she headed back to the kitchen, which prepared food for the queen only. While on her way, some scullery maids were seen fetching water from the well behind the kitchen.

"It must be close to daylight," Guinevere surmised.

Moving quickly, she slipped inside the kitchen and removed all the utensils that were previously used to serve the queen. The maids would bring new ones once they found the old ones missing. She was out of the kitchen and back in her room before anyone saw her. With part one of her work concluded she relaxed and waited.

King Syreus stumbled forward in the dark tunnel beneath the city. Built many years ago for this very reason, he never thought he'd lived to see the day he would use it. In fact, he'd never been inside this underground passage until now. Rulf and Merek seemed to know the way well. He wasn't surprised. Merek was the Phantom and Rulf the Fire. They must have searched for the secret tunnel in the event this very thing might occur. A few yards in, Rulf stopped to pull a sack from within a crevice in the wall. From it, he took a change of clothing.

"Is this necessary?" Syreus asked as Rulf handed him a netherbred fitting.

"They will be looking for the king, not farmers," Rulf replied. He turned to Catrain, handing her a man's garment. "Take this and try to hide that hair of yours."

The girls face lit up at the prospects of dressing like the men. _What manner of woman is this?_ Syreus wondered. _She is not feminine ... yet she is. I don't understand her._

Trusting Merek was taking some effort, but what choice did he have? Would Merek do anything to harm his own daughter? The king saw the love between father and daughter and figured the ex-knight was perhaps repentant of his betrayal.

So many things happened in the blink of an eye that Syreus was unable to fathom them all. Catrain may not be his daughter, but she certainly was greater than a daughter would have been. Her ability to pull the bow from the wall was the Keeper's words materializing.

"This shall remain upon the wall for your protection, my king," Esmerelda had said. "The day of your downfall will also be the day of your greatest joy."

"Stop speaking in riddles, Esmerelda, and tell me what you mean," he had impatiently replied.

"You only need to know that this weapon can only be removed by the one it was meant to serve."

"For God's sake, why would you put a weapon which does not belong to me there?"

She laughed lightly as she traced the stone with her finger. "It will protect you in the meantime. On the day it's taken from the wall, you will meet one of the four guardians of Cronada."

"Ha," he'd laughed. "Who are these so called guardians you keep talking about?"

"Time, my king," she smiled, her voice ever so calm. "When all four guardians will meet in the same place, you will know who they are."

"At least give me some clue."

She nodded. "You know the one bearing this weapon will be that guardian's strength."

"The bow, will be their specialty?"

"Yes. Another will be of the sword, another of the the stiletto, and the final is the art of Marma Arti."

"What is the Marma Arti?" he asked, never having heard of such a weapon.

"It's not a weapon but a way of combat. This form of fighting emerged from another world and was given to us when Sachimi Yuri entered our world many centuries ago."

Tumbling through the tunnel, Syreus wondered who the other guardians were. Rulf and Merek were both superior swordsmen, which made him undecided about which of them was the second guardian. It must be one of them, he concluded. Then who was the Marma Arti expert?

Sometime earlier...

"The rebels have infiltrated the barricades!"

The announcement from one of the soldiers on duty to keep watch at one of the borders came amidst a battle between Cronus' private army and those still loyal to the king.

Word had traveled quickly that the king had relinquished his throne and quickly a divide ensued. The council of twenty-two was now split. He'd managed to convince ten of the twenty-two council members about the king's sins. He'd mistakenly assumed that the others would follow suit. Now, Cronus was having a difficult time explaining his evidence to seven of the other ministers.

"This is not sufficient evidence Conus, and you know it," one councilman named Manson remarked.

"It doesn't matter," Cronus replied. "The king has broken the laws written by our ancestors."

"It's a ridiculous law and you know it very well," Manson countered.

"Are you condoning this?" Cronus advanced in a menacing manner on the minister. "Don't you recall the punishment for abetting lawbreakers?"

Manson visibly bristled. "Don't be ridiculous, Cronus. We are the lawmakers, but for God's sake, this is the king we are talking about. Moreover, bedding a nether - what's so bad about that?"

"Arrest him."

One of the ministers standing with him chimed in. "Isn't that a little extreme, Prime Minister?"

Cronus whipped around to face him, his tone lowering, "Are you backing away from this now?"

"No, my lord," the man whispered. "I am just saying, arresting the ministers is a little overboard."

"Don't interfere, or I will arrest you too."

The man backed away with a light bow. "Very well, Prime Minister."

Cronus turned back to the opposing group. "Didn't you hear me? Arrest them," he commanded the soldiers.

"You cannot do this," Manson said. "This is high treason."

"Shut up!"

And so, the battle began between the two factions. Merek was battling with a soldier while Syreus pulled Catrain away from the melee. It took some time for Cronus to detangle himself from a group of ministers needing answers, so he could reach the passage. That's when the idea struck him to get things in order.

"Find him ... search the entire palace and entire kingdom if you have to!" he'd quietly ordered his guards. "When you find them, execute them all!"

But one of the ministers overheard him and shouted. "HALT!" Manson pointed at Cronus. "Arrest him, he has betrayed our king."

The soldier paid no heed to Manson's calls for Cronus' arrest. The guards pulled their weapons and trained them on all seven ministers.

"You are either with me or against me, which is it?" Cronus asked.

Manson stepped forward, but the sword of a guard pointed at his throat. He held his hand up and retreated.

"At least show us some evidence of the king's crime and not that nether roster you have been throwing around," Manson said. "We want real proof."

"Very well," Cronus replied, pulling a letter from inside his robe. "This will be proof enough."

" _My dear King_ Syreus _, I hope that one day you can forgive me. I have decided to go away with Merek the Cobbler. It is for the best. Love Zenaida."_

The remaining ministers who were undecided about the king's guilt now stood before him as a battle waged on the outside. He could hear the uproar as soldiers shouted at each other.

"Are you sure this letter was from that nether?" Manson asked as he scanned its contents. "This letter is exceptionally written and the calligraphy is exquisite."

Cronus had to admit that he was surprised at the woman's penmanship. When he'd told her to write the king a note telling him of her leaving him for the cobbler, he hadn't expected her to do it. He'd expected her to scrawl a few letters since he'd threatened her. But the penmanship was exceptional. Not many noblites he knew could write that well.

"I know," he replied. "I have wondered about her, but many nethers are educated. They have schools in the townships and many noblites have volunteered to teach them."

"Yes, but the decree for nether education was passed only recently. This letter was written over two decades ago."

Cronus thought his plan was falling apart. He needed to make sure his proof was solid. A specialist in handwriting and the aging of papyrus was the solution. If he could convince these councilmen of the king's crime it would make his job easier. Otherwise, he would have to do something drastic.

"We will have the letter verified by one who analyzes paper."

The minister nodded. "Ha, yes. That will be best."

"If we prove that the king did commit this felony, will you support me?"

The minister hesitated and Cronus thought that was not good. Would he have to have his fellow ministers imprisoned or worse? He needed their help in convincing the people that Syreus had broken the laws of the land. With this, he could add other crimes to the king's list of deeds.

"We will wait for the analysis before we decide," the minister replied.

Manson was afraid. Conus saw the terror in his eyes although the minister put on a brave face. The others standing behind him were also sore afraid. It seemed that they banded together to make Manson their spokesperson, after all he was also a deputy minister like Aldridge. _Where was Aldridge?_

"The rebels have infiltrated the barricades!" the shout came from outside the hall.

Cronus had bolted the door shut to keep the detractors out and the council members in. That way, he could make his case against Syreus. He now rushed to the window and looked at the goings-on in Kingdom City. Soldiers who had been facing off now ran towards the east, west, north, and south.

"What should we do now?" one from the group asked.

"Don't worry," Cronus replied. "The soldiers are trained to take care of such matters."

Cronus left the hall to find the papyrus expert. He knew of one such man in the marketplace. The soldiers were given strict orders to guard the council members and not to allow anyone of them to leave the room. If they did not side with him, he would have to throw them in the lower dungeon.

He would not allow anyone of them to thwart his plans. He'd come too far to retrace his steps. As he entered the corridor outside the ministers' court, a soldier ran up to him out of breath.

"Sire, the witness has disappeared and the soldiers guarding him are dead!"

"What do you mean, they are dead and where has he gone?"

"I don't know, Prime Minister," the soldier panted. "The soldiers lay lifeless, but there are no wounds."

Cronus was baffled. "How are they dead without wounds? Are you sure of this?"

The soldier nodded. "Yes, the army physician is examining them as we speak."

Cronus would have taken a carriage to see the papyrus expert but instead, opted for a horse on which he rode a half mile to Archemus' dwelling. The physician had finished examining the bodies when he arrived.

"No open wounds one would expect on a soldier," the doctor said. "This one has a bruise under the left rib and this one a similar bruise at his throat."

Cronus looked at what the doctor pointed at and noticed the deep red bruises, but no cuts. He could not fathom what made the bruises the size of his thumb.

Turning to the soldier who had given the news, he instructed. "Find the old man right away and when you do, take him to the north tower cell."

Leaving the house of Archemus, Cronus knew that someone within the palace was working secretly for the king. He must find who the culprit was and eliminate him or his plans would be ruined. There was only one thing to do ...

"King Syreus has abandoned the people of Cronada!" the Fourth Minister announced.

He was standing on the pavilion overlooking the largest courtyard area of the palace, this area served for all public meetings and royal announcements. Cronus smiled, hidden behind a wall of drapery.

"The king has committed a serious offence against the people and his ancestors," the minister continued, reading the words Cronus had given him. "He has disrespected the sanctity of the royal bed and the palace!"

"What has he done?" shouts from below came out to him.

"The king has bred with a nether and produced a dergabred child. That child now threatens the throne and we cannot have that. The king has chosen to side with that dergabred, blood of his loins, against the people of Cronada!"

"We must do as Cronus says to save our lives," Manson whispered to his colleagues.

Cronus had left the hall in search of the papyrus expert. Before leaving, he'd ordered the soldiers to guard the ministers well. Manson knew their freedom, and perhaps lives, were now at stake, as Cronus now held command of his own army and would perhaps gain the loyalty of the kingdom's army as well.

What was more shocking was the Fourth Minister's announcement in the pavilion. They had tried to get out of the room, but the soldiers would not allow them free passage. There was nothing they could do now that the people believed that the king had abandoned them during a war.

"What are you saying?" another minister asked. "How can we betray our king?"

"We are not betraying the king," Manson replied. "If we pretend to go along with this impeachment, then we buy some time to get rid of Cronus himself."

"How do we do that?"

"Certainly not behind bars or dead."

The men knew that it was either doing what Manson said or go against Cronus. The king had escaped the soldiers and now they were left to the mercy of the Prime Minister. At this point, Manson was uncertain of which persons were still loyal to Syreus.

Cronus returned to the Minister's hall alone. Manson was not surprised that the minister did not bring the papyrus expert. He was doubtful that Cronus didn't have that letter written by someone in order to frame the king.

Making such a big deal of a thing like a nether lover was utterly ridiculous. He'd expected that if the king was dethroned, it would have been some dastardly deed like betraying his own people. Bedding a nether was not so serious a crime. As soon as Cronus was inside the room, a Lieutenant Commander burst in as well.

"The king has abdicated! We must seize command of the palace at once!"

Cronus hypocritically turned to the soldier. "What are you talking about? The king would never abdicate."

"Then where is the king?" the commander asked. "The Fourth Minister has announced it."

Cronus turned to the group of ministers who were standing gawping at the saga unfolding. Manson knew Cronus was behind this new drama. That minister would never have made such an announcement without a higher authority.

"Manson, go fetch the king," Cronus said. "I'm sure he is in his chambers."

Manson felt he had no other choice but to do as told. He beckoned the other ministers who followed him. They left the hall through the main entrance and walked the corridors. First, they checked the king's bedchamber and he was not there. They found two dead soldiers in the secret passageway.

After leaving there, they searched all the ministers' halls, the knight's meeting rooms, and all public rooms frequented by the king. The areas used to meet with the army generals were also searched, and by the time darkness had descended upon Cronada, it was determined that the king was indeed missing.

Many rumors about the king's whereabouts floated around, including one that the Prime Minister had executed him. Some believed he abandoned the people and ran away with a nether.

They all returned to the throne room under Cronus' guards. While the Prime Minister communed with those who had sided with him, Manson tried to figure his way out of the mess.

What made matters worse was that the troops from the east started withdrawing their men. They were returning home. Manson watched from the throne room, as the soldiers marched from the bailey to Kingdom City gate.

"We are bound to lose the war with the rebels now that our allies are withdrawing," he whispered to one of the other ministers. "What has the king done to us?"

The Minister rested a hand on his shoulder. "The king is fearing for his life, Manson. Didn't you hear Cronus order his soldiers to execute the king?"

Manson's shoulder's sagged as he exhaled a long breath. "You're correct. This is all too much to handle. We must work to bring peace to our kingdom."

"How can we do that when we are prisoners?"

"We must declare our support of the Prime Minister."

"Can we trust him?" the mister asked.

Manson sneered. "Like a snake."

Cronus broke his conversation and joined Manson at the window. Cronus looked at each face and then back to Manson.

"What are you cooking up here?" Cronus asked. "Planning your escape?"

"In fact, we were thinking that now that the king has abdicated, we must pledge our allegiance to you in order to save our kingdom. We apologize for not believing you before."

Cronus' face brightened. "You did the right thing, Manson. Are they all with you?" he waved his hand, indicating the others.

"Yes, we are with you," they chorused.

King Syreus, halted. They had traveled a long way in the underground tunnel. Not only was the pain in his chest getting worse, he could not just abandon his people. They were in the middle of a war.

Rulf seemed to know the way well as he quickly found a torch which he lit to guide the way. He paused and shone the light on the king.

"What's the matter, my king?" Rulf asked.

"We must return to the palace, by now they must realize I am not there."

"It is dangerous," Rulf told him. "We must get you to a safe place, then I will return and see what has happened."

"It is not safe for you either," Syreus said. "No, you must not return alone."

"My king, this is what I am trained for. Allow me to do my duty as the king's knight."

The king nodded. "As you wish."

"There is an emergency package and water somewhere, I will find it."

"You knew about this tunnel?" Syreus queried.

"Yes, sire. A knight is always prepared for this day, should it occur."

"Where does this thing end up anyway?"

"The base of the mountains near the township of Mary's Gate."

The tolling of bells broke the silence of the pre-dawn. Mist covered the land like a sheet, while a blanket of white puffy clouds moved across the sky. It was looking to be a dreary day. The rooster crowed as weary souls rose from sleep, awaked by the break in silence.

It was earlier than most would have risen since the sun would not be up for another couple of hours. The chill of the morning was an unwelcomed guest, as windows opened to listen to the tolling bells and await the town crier's announcement. Many already knew what the announcement would be.

The town crier cloaked himself in his long black robe, his head and ears covered from the cold. He downed a cup of warm water to clear the frog from his throat. Wrapping a cloth of wool around his neck, he left the warmth of his abode to give the chilling news.

"Zenevia, Queen of Petaria is dead. Mourn for her now!"

He would repeat this every few feet, stopping in front of every dwelling. The news passed quickly and there was no need for him to keep repeating it, but that was his duty.

The news of Zenevia's death also passed quickly through the townships as messengers from the palace were sent to each community to inform the people. Soon, the mourners surrounded the palace, weeping for the beautiful queen they respected and loved.

While the news of the queen's death spread through the kingdom of Petaria, the king gathered the queen's chambermaids in a meeting. Awakened by the king's guards, they were brought to the throne room just before the bells began to toll.

With the sound of the bells, many faces showed their dismay and grief as they knew what had taken place. Some faces expressed fear while others confusion as to why the king had gathered them in such a fashion. As he sat on the royal chair on his dais, Christoffle remembered the Queen's last words before her passing.

After many weeks of not seeing her, the queen called for him. He was convinced that Guinevere had something to do with this and he was elated. His heart had thudded so loudly upon entering her room, that he was certain the servants could hear it. As he knelt by her bed, his heart cried out at her purple coloring and frail look.

"My love, it is I, Christoffle," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Weakly, her hand came up to touch his cheek, her icy fingers burning into his flesh. A tear formed in the corner of her eye as she looked up at him.

"My love," she whispered, her breathing labored. "I love you so much."

"I know," he whispered back, taking her palm and pressing his lips to it.

"I'm sorry."

"No my love, I am sorry I could not care for you." His voice was thick as his eyes welled so that he had to blink away the tears.

"I have," she paused between her words to take a breath. "One wish. Promise ... to honor it."

"Hmm," he murmured. "I promise."

"Take ... wife ...," she said.

When he would have protested, she stopped him. She told him her wish and he hadn't been able to think of anything since. The queen had already chosen her replacement and made him promise to honor it. The one she chose was not a bad choice, but it was too soon to think about such matters.

His heart was shattered in a million pieces as he grieved the woman he loved most in the world. The sounds of the arrival of the servants made him aware he'd been frowning. The women bowed and waited for the king to speak. He beckoned to his senior advisor who hovered near the throne.

"Bring her in," he spoke softly.

The man left the room, returning shortly with Guinevere following behind. Behind Guinevere, were two soldiers who waited by the door. The king stood.

"We have reason to believe the queen was poisoned."

As he spoke, he made it a point to look into each face, pausing on each one to read their reactions. Some showed surprise or puzzlement. He flicked to the head chambermaid, who the queen had insisted he take to bed. Her face registered her terror at the king's words.

Anger flushed his skin as another memory rushed through his mind. The queen had found it difficult to bear children and wanted him to take a noblite lover who would bear him an heir.

"Are you crazy?" he asked, at her ridiculous suggestion.

"Christoffle, don't be like that," she'd cajoled.

"No Zenevia, I will not do such a thing. These noblite women will only want me to make them queen if they bear me an heir. You know they will do everything to remove you as my queen. No."

He'd adamantly refused. Then she suggested him taking a second wife. That, he also refused. That morning, not unlike this one, she'd let the matter drop. Just when he thought she had given up the idea, she brought it up again. This time suggesting that she had worked out a deal with her head chambermaid who was willing to bear her a child as a surrogate. She even had the woman sign a document to that effect.

"No, I said no," he had told her.

The sadness in her eyes when she began to cry was much more than he could handle and he'd eventually agreed to grant her at least that one wish as his queen. That was three months ago and today he was mourning her death because she loved him enough to want to give him a child.

"Fortunately we have an expert on the matter of poisons and toxins in the palace," he continued. "Please, cooperate while she examines your hands."

Guinevere stepped forward with a bowl of colorless liquid and a brush. The king nodded and he turned to the group of anxious faces.

"I will administer this solution," Guinevere said, holding up the bowl. "Then count to three. If your hand turns pink then we know you have handled the poison known as the Rose of Secyinth."

Gasps rang through the group. Guinevere wasted no time and began her investigation. As she reached each person, they held their hand out. First, she dipped the brush in the solution then brushed both their hands.

Two of the maids' hands returned a small spot of pink. A crease formed on Guinevere's forehead as she determined the scenario for the result. The spots of pink were on the back of one hand.

"Did soup or tea spill from you?" she asked one of them.

"Yesterday night the head maid asked me to give the queen her soup as she would not be able to attend to the lady. While feeding the queen some of the soup touched my hand."

Before Guinevere could question the second maid about the spot on her hand she also chimed in. "The same with her tea in the afternoon. The head chambermaid made the tea and asked me to give to Madame, the tea spilled on me."

The head chambermaid shrank back from amongst the group. The soldiers advanced and held her arms as Guinevere administered the solution. Both her palms, beneath her fingernails and her entire ten fingers returned bright red.

Rose of Secyinth – a concoction made from grinding the root of the Felbiswart tree. After grinding and extracting the juice, you set a while. The juice will separate and a clear liquid will form on top. The clear liquid is poured off and used for the tincture.

The guards arrested the head chambermaid. At first, she denied having anything to do with the queen's death. When Guinevere explained how her solution worked and why it returned a color on her hands, she finally admitted her crime. Guinevere also produced the last cup from which the queen drank. A new cup was brought in the night before as she'd made a point to remove the old ones. The cup showed the same color as the stain on the maid's hands.

Having shown no remorse for her deeds, the king decided that he would bypass the council's court proceedings and handed down the sentence himself. Her execution was to take place after the queen was laid to rest. After dismissing the others, the king asked that Guinevere remain behind.

Guinevere was obviously exhausted and needed rest and he didn't want to add to her weariness. He knew she hadn't slept since the beginning of her investigation. King Christoffle was indebted to her and anxious to offer anything she wanted. She'd spent the last three days and nights working on this case. Proving such a theory wasn't easy and it took getting the right ingredients in the right portions for her method to work.

"Your Majesty, you wish to speak with me?" Guinevere asked.

The king rose from his chair and came to stand before her. He took her hand and bowed his head. The warmth of her hand was thrilling and he reluctantly let it go.

"I am forever in your debt," he said. "That promise I made you, I am ready to fulfill it."

A crease on the forehead showed her confusion. "Promise?"

"Yes, I told you I will fulfill any desire of yours."

A smile lit her face as a tendril of blond curl brushed her cheek. "Oh yes, I will tell you my wish later. Please allow me some rest and I will be as good as new."

"Very well, I will be waiting to hear it."

Spending the night in an underground tunnel would not be considered fun by any means for most girls. Catrain was not most girls. The thrill of the pending danger and the idea of hiding in a long and winding channel excited her.

By predawn, they'd reached the exit of the tunnel, whose mouth was hidden behind a boulder on the base of the mountain. An iron hatch from within secured the entrance. In addition to the large rock, which masked the entry from without, were shrubs and vines hanging like a curtain over the entranceway.

The night had been long. While the men strategized on returning the king to Kingdom City safely, Catrain worked on her sword skills. She would have preferred working with the bow, but the underpass was narrow and there weren't any targets to practice with. Now that they were about to venture out into the open, she was looking forward to using the weapon.

Catrain noticed the sweat on the king's face and the weakness in his voice. He'd been clutching his chest often throughout the night. She was worried that he might be seriously ill.

They were ready to head out of the channel when Catrain felt she needed to do something before the king became worse. Pulling on Rulf's arm, she indicated he step aside. He excused himself from the presence of the king and walked with her a few paces outside.

"I think the king is ill," she said.

Rulf nodded. "Don't worry, I will take care of him."

"Should I carry him on my back?" Merek joined the conversation.

"No need," Rulf replied. "Osorus will be here soon. The King will ride the stallion."

"Catrain," Merek addressed her. "Remember what your uncle and I have taught you. Use your weapons as though they were a part of you. Consider the sword, that bow and the dagger as an extension of your body."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. "Aren't we going back home?"

"No, it's not safe," he replied. "You are also in danger."

"Why me?" she frowned. "It's the king that Cronus wants."

Merek took her hand. "Catrain, there something you...."

"Merced," the king had approached, taking Merek's arm. "Come with me. You two carry on."

Merek and the king went back inside the tunnel. Although Catrain could see them, she was unable to hear their conversation. Her father had scores of explaining to do, of that much she was certain. Rulf also seemed a little distant with her since he came to know that her father was a knight.

What puzzled her was that the ancient laws of knighthood were only changed since she was born. Two decades ago, only noblites and half-bloods could become knights. No nether had even been knighted until recently.

When her father rejoined them, she asked him what he was about to tell her. His answer was that Cronus had threatened them all so that put her life in danger as well. The Prime Minister had threatened them, thinking they were traitors of the kingdom. His answer didn't appease her although she dropped the subject. She made a note to return to it once they were alone.

As promised, a short while passed and the sound of a horse's nicker came from behind the rock. Rulf trotted out, Catrain following close behind. Osorus greeted his master with a nudge on the knight's cheek. Rulf returned the affection with gentle caresses behind his ear.

When Osorus saw Catrain, the horse left his master and came to nudge her shoulder, surprising her with his affection. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Osorus let out a gentle sigh.

"Horse thief," Rulf teased as he brushed passed them into the tunnel.

"Kissing bandit," she retorted, grinning at her quick wit.

His light laugh warmed her. Osorus also seemed amused as he let out a soft neigh. Shortly, Rulf returned with the king and her father.

Osorus stood still to allow the king to mount him. When they would have moved off, Merek stood back. Catrain was confused. She'd assumed they were going with Rulf and the king. Didn't he say she was also in danger?

"Pa, aren't we going with them?"

"You go along - I will join you in some time."

Osorus moved off slowly, Rulf leading the reins. She strode to her father, trying to read his face.

"Where are you going?"

"To see about your uncle and get a few things."

"I'm coming with you."

Her father's voice was sharp, startling her. "You will do no such thing. It is dangerous."

"But Pa...."

"Listen Catrain," he softened his voice. "By now you know I am a knight – you know what that means, don't you?"

She nodded, feeling her disappointment envelope her like a cold coat. Knights were protectors of the king. They led dangerous lives and were constantly a target for evil forces such as Cronus.

"I can move more freely by myself," he continued. "It will take less time and I can get Brogue out of Frogsgrave and meet you in the mountains in no time." He brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand. "Take care of the king the way you would care for me. You know the herbs that are good for pain. Get some on the way and make him medicine."

"Take care Pa – wait – do you know where we are going?"

"Yes."

"Come soon," she said, her voice cracking.

They embraced as fear gripped her. What if Cronus already invaded her home and took Brogue. What did the Prime Minister want with a netherbred family? So many questions ravaged her mind that she felt as though she was buckling under a heavy burden.

Her father kissed her forehead and urged her to catch up to Rulf and the king. She turned to look how far they had gone ahead. The dawn hadn't completely broken yet. It took some effort to see the silhouette of the horse, and rider waiting some distance away. When Catrain turned back to her father, he was gone.

Passing through the township of Mary's Gate was like walking a ghost town. Mary's Gate was the furthest hamlet in Cronada, almost to the border of the Udony Kingdom. It was well known that Mary's Gate was the least populated of all the towns, and now it seemed that the people might have evacuated. Catrain wasn't certain.

They were well into the mountains when the sun rose. Along with the rising sun came dark stormy clouds. The threat of rain was evident which would make the journey more cumbersome, she thought. But Rulf's reaction surprised her.

"This is good, the rain will help us," he muttered.

They'd stopped to rest the king when Rulf disappeared and returned with a branch of wild ouiju plums. Catrain loved the wild version of the delicious fruit because they were sweeter. Their bright purple flesh would stain the tongue while the sweet, tangy taste lingered for hours. Of the six fruits, each the size of a baby's fist, Rulf handed the king three. He then gave her two, keeping the last one for himself.

Thinking that his was not enough, she took the dagger and halved one of her hers. When she handed one-half to him, he returned a shocked stare.

"What, can you not take fruit from a nether?"

With a snicker, he snatched the plum and shoved it in his mouth. After breakfast, they moved off again. On the way, she picked herbs that she knew would make good medicine for the king.

The rains began some time during the mid-morning, falling in thin sheets. Rulf stopped to ask if she was able to withstand the chill of it.

"I am fine," she answered, ignoring the biting cold of the icy drops.

Rulf was right. The rain did help them as the rain erased Osorus' tracks. The cool weather also made them move much more quickly than they would have done during the heat of the day. The rain eased a few times, allowing them to warm up before drenching them again. By evening, they were high into the mountains.

"Where are we?" Catrain breathed as Osorus came to a halt.

Rulf tethered him to a tree and helped the king down. Scanning the landscape, she noted that she had a panoramic view of two Kingdom Cities below. Gerdan was to her right and Cronada to the left.

The distinct difference between both cities stood out like a wild hog next to a peacock – Cronada being the peacock. Where they had stopped, dense growth covered the ground. The rains had ceased for a short while, and now the early evening sun peeped through departing clouds.

"Peak of the Wailing Sun." Rulf had moved up behind her, standing a bit too close. She felt his body brush her back, sending a wave of warmth through her.

"It's spectacular!" she exclaimed. "Won't the rebels find us here?"

A sudden breeze rose up, kicking up her hair around her face. The wind was so strong that she was compelled to turn, clutching Rulf for support. His arms came up protectively around her.

"No one can find this way unless guided by me," the silken tone of a woman floated from the wind.

As suddenly as the wind had appeared, it stopped. Catrain released Rulf, turning her head to see where the voice came from. Was she imagining it? Did Rulf hear it as well?

Almost jumping out of her skin, she was aghast to see a woman whose feet did not touch the ground. Catrain's eyes widened as she stared at what she thought were an apparition. Staring back at her were pale green eyes. The woman's white garment wrapped around her like a sheet and her silver hair brushed her ankle.

"A ghost?" Catrain shivered, shrinking into Rulf's arms.

Chuckling, he embraced her as she sunk her face into his shoulder.

"The fearless Catrain is scared of ghosts?"

Raising her head, she scowled at him. "You tease me at a time like this?"

"Ha-ha," he laughed. "This is Esmeralda, Keeper of the Seven Kingdoms."

Catrain pushed against him, deepening her frown. "And you are now telling me?"

"And miss the chance to see you shiver?"

"You are a scoundrel, you know that?"

"Or perhaps, he wouldn't miss a chance to hold you close," Esmeralda said, coming close to them.

Rulf looked away toward Osorus and saw that the king sat, his back against the tree. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping.

"Let me take you to the safe place," Esmeralda urged. "It will be dark soon."

At her words, the king rose, getting back on the horse. He didn't seem scared or surprised to see the great witch. Rulf glanced down at Catrain a few times, perhaps thinking she was still afraid. Catrain had heard of Esmeralda and knew she was sent by the Gods. It was her entrance that scared her.

They only ventured a short distance when Esmeralda waved her hand and the mouth of a cave appeared. Catrain had never seen such magic and her mouth gaped. The witch beckoned them to follow her.

"Come," the witch called. "This safe place is protected and no one can see it without the protection removed. Stay here until you hear from me again."

"How will my father find us?"

Esmeralda smiled and Catrain noticed how her skin glowed as though she were painted with crystal dust – the shimmering makeup many of the noblite women used. Or so she was told.

"Don't worry, your father will find you," Esmerelda replied, turned and disappeared along the path from which they came.

Inside, the cave was brightly lit with torches while a fire burned from a stone pit in the floor. There was a large area, with several passages leading elsewhere. As she ventured in, Catrain noted that in the center of the area was a large table carved of stone with a spread of food.

The sound of running water caught Catrain's attention and she moved in the direction of the noise. A brook with clear blue water ran gently from a rock at the back of the cave. Curious about the passages she ventured into one and found it was only a small crevice in the rock.

Following another passage led to a larger crevice. In it were bedding and raiment. Perhaps it was prepared for the king. Catrain returned and set the weapons she'd been carrying against the wall of the cave.

Syreus seemed frailer than before and Catrain worried that he would get worse. Remembering her father's words, she looked around for something in which to make the medicine. She found utensils made of stone in one corner. While grinding the herbs, she added small amounts of water, enough to make a cup.

After the king had eaten, she gave him her concoction, which he drank in one gulp. It didn't take long for her medicine to take effect. Soon his eyes drooped and he slumped to the ground. Rulf, picked him up and took him to the area where she'd seen the bedding.

Snuggling next to the fire, Catrain wondered how soon her father would get here, and if her uncle was safe. Soon, her eyes blurred as images danced in the flames. Before long she was asleep, dreaming of silver haired witches emerging from orange flames.

The evening sun dipped behind Mount Ore – the mountains bordering Petaria and Udony. Guinevere stared at the orange glow of its decent, seeing beyond to another kingdom. What her eyes could not see, her mind envisioned. His face, his smile and his eyes all stood before her.

She would make Rulf marry her and she knew exactly how she would do it. Leaving the window of the new chamber the king had given her, she readied to meet him. Since she'd been investigating the queen's illness, the king moved her into one of the royal family chambers instead of the guest quarters in which she'd stayed since her arrival.

Ecstatic that she would begin her journey back to Cronada no later than the following day, Guinevere ordered her servants to pack her belongings while she went to meet with King Christoffle.

The throne room was empty except for the king and his guards. She figured he must have sent everyone away when she'd sent to inform him about her arrival. He was a discreet man and she respected that about him.

Upon entering the room, she paused and waited for his acknowledgment. When he noticed her, he signaled for her to approach the dais.

"I take it you've had a good rest, Lady Guinevere," he stated. "You look quite radiant, I must say."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"I am quite anxious to hear your wish." Christoffle rose from his seat and came to stand an arm's length away from her. "What do you want - a plot of land, your own castle, a township named after you?"

"No, my lord, nothing as extravagant as anything you mentioned."

"What is it then ... a horse or perhaps jewelry?"

Guinevere was more nervous now than she anticipated that she stumbled over the words. "I-I wish to...."

Before she could finish, the First Minister of Petaria rushed in. "My king, there is grave news."

"Nemrod, what is so urgent that you have disturbed me?"

The man bowed low. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, there is grave news from Cronada."

Christoffle's eyes widened. "Tell me."

Guinevere's heart did a somersault as she anxiously awaited what the man had to say about her uncle. Did something happen to Syreus? Did Cronada lose the war or worse ... was Rulf in danger?

Nemrod turned, signaling a man standing at the door to enter. Guinevere recognized his tunic as a messenger of Syreus. Her heart thudded heavily as her palms sweated. What news did he bring?

The man approached and knelt before the king, handing him a letter with the king's seal. Christoffle took the scroll then glanced at her, his eye betraying nothing. Anxiety made her bite her lip and she waited to hear what the letter said.

Christoffle scanned the contents, lifted his head to give her a grave stare. After some time, he returned to his reading. This time he read aloud.

"King Syreus has abdicated the throne after being accused of a crime. Prime Minister Cronus has taken command of the army and the entire Kingdom of Cronada."

"Crime?" Guinevere quickly stepped close to the messenger who stood to his feet by the king's order.

"Yes, my lady," the messenger replied.

"What crime?" her voice rose a notch. "He would never do anything to dishonor the throne."

The messenger cringed at her voice before glancing at the king. "King Syreus has been accused of having a dergabred child."

Guinevere felt the relief wash over her like cool water on a hot summer day. She laughed as she realized this must be some prank. Was the king outside while trying to surprise her? Christoffle was his close friend and this was something her uncle would do.

"I knew this was some joke," she said. "Is he outside trying to surprise me?"

She turned and was about to leave the room when the messengers next words stopped her.

"No, my lady. The king has disappeared with his daughter and the knight Rulf."

Whipping around, she strode back to the man. "Are you saying that my uncle has bedded a nether and produced some dergabred child?"

"Yes, Madame."

"No, that's impossible," she denied, unable to believe such idiocy. "Who is this child – how old is she?"

"I don't know her age, Madame," the messenger said before his face broke into a wide grin. "But she is quite beautiful."

"Enough! Can a dergabred be beautiful?"

"My apologies, my lady."

Christoffle joined her side. "Calm down Guinevere. Beauty they say is perceived by the one whose heart flutters at the sight," he said, then turned to the messenger. "What else can you tell us about this dergabred?"

The man seemed subdued at Guinevere's scolding. He lowered his gaze to the floor as he spoke to the king. "There are many rumors, Your Majesty. I was there when they brought her before the king. I barely escaped with my life. Had it not been for Rulf, I'd be a dead Kisalese."

At the sound of Rulf's name, Guinevere gripped his arm. "What about Rulf?"

The king glanced at her with a knowing look in his eye. She ignored it as she anticipated the man's response.

"Rulf took the king, Catrain and Sir Merced through the secret tunnel."

"Who is this Catrain?" she asked, confused.

"That's the name of the child ... er ... woman – the king denies this. She is still considered a nether until proven otherwise."

Catrain? Where had she heard the name before? Guinevere ran through her mind the names of all the maids she knew in the palace back home. Nothing surfaced. The name was that which was often given to a noblite or royalite. How dare they give such a name to a derges child?

Still, she could not get the name from her mind, as she was certain she'd heard it before. There was no one by that in all the Cronadian palace. Had she heard it in passing or was it since arriving at this palace?

About to erase the thought from her mind and get back to her uncle, a flash of memory sent a wave of rage rushing through her. Her fists curled at her side as she recalled the last night Rulf summoned her to his room.

She closed her eyes as the memories flooded her. _'Wear a_ netherbred _frock when you come,'_ the note had said. _'Now you will please me Catrain, and you will do it until I am very happy with you,'_ he'd said with his own lips.

Rulf used her to satiate his desire for this Catrain. How dare him? Anger coursed through her like a river overflowing its banks. Being a half-royal gave him no right to treat her like a replacement.

"I will make him pay for this," she muttered under her breath.

"Madame," the messenger addressed her. "Sir Aldridge asks that I remain here to serve you. He was the one who sent this letter." He knelt. "Please accept me as your hire."

"You will join my army until the return of your king," Christoffle said. "No need to trouble the lady with such things. She is quite upset about the tidings you've brought."

"I am most grateful to you, my king. I will serve you as I would King Syreus."

In a daze from the wrath coiling inside her, Guinevere ambled from the room. What she was feeling was somewhat undefinable. Broken hearted and angry came to mind, but something else simmered on the back burner and she wasn't quite certain what that was. Only time would tell.

Rulf returned from tucking in the king to find Catrain asleep near the burning pit. Unlike the spitfire she made herself out to be when awake, she was like a baby when she slept. He smiled as he recalled the night he'd awoken in her cottage. Even through the delirium of fever, he could see the softness of her face.

As he stared at her while she slept, Rulf wondered about the accusation of the king. Was she really his daughter? He'd seen the way Syreus looked at Catrain when he thought no one was looking. The king prevented Merced from speaking to her and then Merced changing what he was about to tell her.

What was the betrayal of which the king insisted on accusing Merced? The older knight maintained that he did not betray the king and what he did was for the king. Rulf began to piece the puzzle together.

Merek was the king's cobbler to the public and the king's secret knight. Merced disappeared about twenty-something years ago. Catrain _is about_ twenty three _, four or five?_ Right? He looked at her, trying to figure her age. It was difficult to tell because she looked older when she was awake.

Rulf's mind returned to the puzzle and Cronus' accusation. The Prime Minister said that Merek raised Catrain as his own daughter and that Zenaida ran away with the knight. Was that the betrayal? Did the king take a nether lover?

As he rested against a rock, his eyes strayed to Catrain. He would certainly find the truth soon. Remaining loyal to the king was his only mission. Regardless of what the king did twenty years ago, this would not change. However, as he looked at her, the burning need to know the truth was undeniable.

Catrain awoke while it was still dark. Worried about her father, she ventured outside the cave. The silhouette of a man with his back to her made her heart skip a beat. She'd only seen him a few times, but she'd know him anywhere.

"You're awake," he observed, his back still to her.

"How'd you know?" she joined him on the ridge of the large rock which made the cave.

"Ha," he chuckled. "Some questions cannot be answered."

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"I must keep watch until the king is safe."

"I will keep watch while you get some rest."

Rulf glanced her way. "Who are you Catrain?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"Have you thought that maybe you're the king's secret?"

"Are you now accusing me of being a derges child? Are you now degrading me?" she hissed. "What is so special about royalites and noblites other than they eat our food and pretend to be better than us?"

"I didn't mean it...," he said but she would not listen.

"I will not tolerate more of your disrespect for the heart of the Kisalese people!"

Catrain wasn't sure what came over her, but she found she could not contain herself.

"All people were once nethers ... do you know that?" she asked. "Your ancestors were bred from one. Moreover, my father is a knight and knights were never nethers twenty six years ago."

Rulf gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "Calm down. What I meant to say, was that maybe you are exactly what Cronada needs right now."

She scrunched her face. "What?"

"I know there have been talks to change the wedlock and military laws. Other kingdoms have done so and are better for it."

Deflated, she exhaled and allowed her temper to dissipate. He wasn't trying to insult her as before. But what brought on the sudden change? Did the king say something or was it because of her father?

The sound of rocks falling below made Rulf pull his sword. He shoved her behind him, guarding her with his body. They stood still as two silhouettes appeared in the shadows.

"It is I, Merced," the voice of her father brought her joy.

Rulf sheathed his sword and she rushed to meet her father. With him was her uncle carrying two bundles along with his beloved bow and quiver. As they entered the light of the cave, Catrain stood stunned as she saw the tunic her father wore.

The red dragon crest on the shoulder and left breast was the only one of its kind. Stories about it were sang around campfires to children. Everyone knew the legend of this attire and its owner. Dizziness threatened to overshadow her as she realized that whatever her birth, she was not a nether.

Half-royalite or noblite father and nether mother made her a dergabred. Not long ago she adamantly refused to accept that she was. Why did it bother her so? At least she could be proud of one thing. Catrain was the daughter of the legendary Phantom Dragon – the deadliest knight Cronada had even seen.

End of book 1

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review by clicking this link:

### Warriors For The Kingdom
Prologue

The noblite stared at her dead child, her heart breaking. Will she ever bear a child that lived? Her husband waited outside the door, anxiously pacing the floor. _Is the child alive?_ he asked himself _. I can hear nothing from the inside._

On the inside of the chamber, the woman gripped the hand of the woman assisting her. With pain filled eyes pleading with the midwife, she begged, "Please, don't tell my husband the child is dead."

"But my lady, will he not know that you gave birth?"

"You must find me a child at once, I beg of you!"

Her head chambermaid stepped close and leaned toward her. "My lady, I know of someone who gave birth this morning."

The lady waved her hand and ordered the others to step away while she communed with her beloved servant. This woman once served as her mother's handmaid, and later nursed her when she was a child. They were like mother and daughter. The tenderness in the eyes of the older woman said it all.

What the Madame didn't know was that life was coming full circle in the repeat of the past. The head chambermaid remembered it well, the day her former mistress gave birth to a stillborn. She also was with child, a dergabred the child would have been – an outcast forever. Her mistress had looked at her with such pleading eyes, much the way this mistress was pleading with her now. The way her young mistress now looked at her brought the past came crashing back and the day she made the wisest decision of her life.

It had been a day like this one. The sun had risen in its golden splendor. The birds chirped happily on the window pane as the hum of happy servants bustled through the noblite residence. The Madame had just finished breakfast when she went into labor. For three hours she suffered with the pain. But when the child finally arrived it was lifeless.

"The master will just die if he knows my child is dead," her Madame had sobbed. "He will put me away, I am sure!"

"No, my lady," she had said.

The lady's weeping paused, and she looked into her eyes. "Will he not? What will you do if he does?"

"I will give you my child. It is due any day now."

A glimmer of hope appeared on the lady's face. "Can you do that?"

"Madame, if I keep this child, it will be an outcast. I will be happy to see it have a better life than I can give it."

The sobbing of her young mistress brought her back to the present. The handmaid now pushed the past behind her and dared to take her lady's hand. The child she willingly gave to her past mistress was now in front of her, weeping about her own dead child.

"I will get that child for you, Madame," she said, recalling how her former mistress fooled the master.

The dead child was removed through the secret exit while they padded the lady's belly with pillows. The master believed she was still in labor while she waited for the chambermaid to give birth. She had given birth the very next day and as promised snuck the baby in through the secret door.

Now, she made a similar plan. The midwife was not pleased, but she swore her to secrecy along with the maids who were present. They cleaned up the mistress well and padded her belly with pillows. The master was kept away as he was told her labor was long.

"You cannot take my baby!" the woman screamed.

The older woman jutted her head at the guards. "Take the child and bring it to me."

One of the guards plucked the boy child from the netherbred's arms and placed him in the arms of the head chambermaid. He then dropped a sachet with cold coins on the table. The wailing of the woman could be heard for miles, except not many could hear it as her home was deep in the valley.

The handmaid returned with the child by the secret entrance and placed the newly born child into the arms of the Madame.

"Here is your child, mistress," she said. "It is a boy. The master will be happy."

The mistress took the child into her arms and kissed it. "What shall I name you?" she cooed.

∞∞∞

Pre-order book 2 by clicking the cover.

Thank you for reading. Kindly leave a review for the author on Amazon.com. Your honest review will be highly appreciated.

Subscribe for alerts!

Connect with me on social media

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/HotAlienPrinces

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/dianeflameromance

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/authorcdsamuda/

YouTube:

 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCilZmOrn7Yl0fDut8ZtzSRw

Website:

https://dianaflame.com/

### Titles by Diana Flame

Awakening: The Prince of Xygor

Guardians of the Kingdom

Warriors for the Kingdom

Protectors of the Kingdom

The Cinderella Plan

The Red Cape

The Dragon Curse

Seduced by the Vampire Prince

### ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Diana has been a fiction and non-fiction writer for many years, creating compelling stories, web content, articles and poetry.

She lives on the island paradise of Jamaica, where she spends most of her days writing. She has always known that she would be a writer. Diana spent her adulthood dreaming of writing her own novels while working a 9 to 5 job. With determination, she quit her job and started working at home full-time as a freelance writer. In 2016 resigned freelancing, dedicating her time to pursuing her dreams of being a novelist.

She is a lover of animals, and has two dogs, a cat and several goats. There are four things she cannot live without: cheesecake, chocolate, good ice-cream and coffee.

