<< Go Back

The Cloak

By Sarah Jennings

Order Now!

The Cloak
by Sarah Jennings

CHAPTER I

Sunbeams danced through little dust clouds. Horses pawed the ground and dogs barked. Merchants squawked their fares and blacksmiths answered back with clanging iron in a rhythmic melody. Against the odds of sweat and animals, there lingered an aroma of fresh baked bread. It was a defiant mixture of hard work, survival, and hope in a community beleaguered by much.

A cloaked girl darted among the busy marketplace traders. She had been allowed to go alone this time, a tiny taste of rare and sweet freedom, but the instructions were strict: get necessities and get home. Holding her hood securely around her face, she spoke quietly to the sellers, having to repeat herself occasionally to be heard over the din. She placed the purchased bundles in her basket and noticed the villagers were especially talkative today. Thankfully, it was about something or someone other than herself. Wonder what all the excitement is about…not that it matters or I really care now, she thought happily, this is my last shopping trip here...ever.

Gathering the small family’s needs and at the same time making a diligent effort to stay unnoticed was never an easy task...physically, because of the interaction required, and emotionally, because of all the usual, curious whispering about the hidden person no one in the village had ever viewed uncloaked. It was expected that a young woman her age should be well on her way to finding her role among humanity - and she was, just not in the sense her guardians had hoped. That didn’t bother her too much because the specific thing they had in mind wasn’t anywhere on her priority list…leaving a life away from here was.

Here was Errigal. It wasn’t a large, industrious European country, just a largely ignored small one tucked between France and Germany and clearly different from any other place on earth. While much of the world busied itself with gaining ground in technology, building powerful weapons, and seeking luxury accommodations, Errigal, meaning “small church”, remained a land immersed in the medieval culture it first possessed at its inception. Transportation by horse, cooking on a wood-fired stove, and in turn, dressing the part, were all the norm. It had been founded centuries earlier by Christian Celtic settlers who forlornly, but bravely, left their homeland to spread their passionate religious beliefs. Most citizens had never listened to a radio or turned on a light bulb. It wasn’t that they were forced to live in what some would call a state of hardship, but it was a love for the simple life and the traditions of old that kept them there. Family ties were steel strong, and only the most disheartened chose to leave for the outside permanently. Unfortunately, that last fact was becoming a little too common, as the nation was under an attack for the heart.

Seeking to relieve some of the tension and curtail the exodus was the king’s brother-in-law, Hahn, and this was where all the recent commotion sweeping throughout the valley had initiated from. Hahn had flown in a few months ago from Germany, to play interim ruler, on his small, private jet using a landing strip he had cleared, unintentionally, in a pasture the last time he visited. With King Evert bed ridden and his only son recently returned from an outside university, Hahn thought it was time to give matters a lift by throwing a party for his nephew. But it wasn’t going to be just any party. It was an event meant to surpass any Errigal had seen in a long time and coincide with finding the perfect mate for Prince Ian. It would be a grand ball, if you will, Cinderella-style, and the maidens invited would be treated to a trip to the castle, most likely their first visit, and given pampered treatment in preparation.

The valley villages had been buzzing ever since a rider came galloping through telling the news. Hahn had not given prior posted notice, allowing the excitement of roving ambassadors of the kingdom do the trick. And it was working. Families were more than willing to participate, sending their hopeful daughters hurriedly packed with handsome warriors of Errigal who had come as escorts in great fanfare. Having been under weak leadership for decades, the country was in a threatening down spiral, currently facing economic hard times and an overall depressed atmosphere. There was no quick relief in sight, and this idea, as sudden and odd as it was, began to stir up some much needed enthusiasm among all the citizens…all those except the girl enveloped in the dark, hooded cloak.

After discovering what all the rage was about, she forgot about the shopping. While others were rushing to stuff clothes and necessities in bags before the warriors reached their home, she was rushing to hide in a little thatched hut on the edge of the most western village, holding to her basket, and grasping the cloak and hem of her long dress.

Hurriedly, she bolted through the door, nearly knocking over those inside. “They’re coming,” she said breathlessly and ominously, her heart beating fast.

“Who is coming, Kellan?”

She forced herself to speak slowly. “Warriors of Errigal.”

“Why?!” The alarm of the old man was evident.

Kellan was still leaning with her back against the door, a million thoughts running through her head. “I’m not completely certain of the details, but it has to do with the prince. The castle is having something to celebrate his return and marry him off as well. What should I do, Teacher?”

“Are they forcing all the maidens to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem necessary, since the girls appear to be falling all over themselves to get ready. The word is they’re seeking all those eligible and coming around with carts, like some kind of ridiculous cross country wagon train, and everybody’s just climbing on. The whole thing resembles a blasted circus, Master Hewitt!”

“Calm down, Kellan, and let’s think this through.” The teacher paced the floor, arms crossed and one hand on the side of his face. Kellan is right. This whole thing smacks of a crazy stunt, most likely perpetrated by the king’s brother-in-law would be my guess. Now, he thought, how can I make sure she doesn’t end up in one of the circus’ three rings? He quickly threw a prayer up to heaven.

Soon after, a knock on the door signaled that time was up and shook everyone to attention. Master Hewitt directed Kellan out the back door. “Go…run,” he told her, “You know where to meet us. We’ll stall for time.” Pulling a necklace from over her head, Kellan squeezed it into his hand and took off. There was another knock, and the woman of the house, faithful Osma, answered it with all the feebleness she could muster up.

“Good day, kind woman,” began the warrior’s speech, just as he had repeated countless times before. “In honor of the prince’s return, his uncle, Lord Hahn, has decided to make the occasion memorable. All willing maidens are invited to be guests of the castle. The event promises to be thrilling for the young ladies, with one being chosen as the prince’s bride at the end. Do any such maidens reside here?”

Osma stared blankly past the warrior’s eyes. She took her time responding to give Kellan a chance to escape. “Do you understand what I’m asking?” said the warrior. Osma looked at the ground, shook her head, and looked questioningly at him. Leaning against the doorway, she acted as if she could hardly stand. He asked if he might step inside to see if anyone might be interested in coming. Concerned that he might see some of Kellan’s things, she continued her facade of ignorance. He was about to brush his way through when a fellow warrior called out. Someone was running through the woods behind the house he announced.

“What of it?” yelled the warrior standing at the door.

“Looks like he’s running for his life,” the second warrior answered, “but I don’t see anything chasing him.”

“Take Shields with you, and check it out. I’ll catch up.”

Osma started talking her head off then, asking all sorts of questions about the celebration and inquiring about the king’s health. The warrior stepped past her and looked around the hut. He nodded to the old man and walked out. Strange people, he thought, guess that’s why they’re living out here on the fringe. He ran around the back and joined his comrades in pursuit. At least this is a little more adventurous than knocking on doors. He headed the figure off from the side, as Kellan had crossed back in the direction of the hut, and the other warriors closed in. Yanking the hood off, they discovered the beauty of beauties. Long, dark, curled tresses framed a slender face, flushed from running, with shining brown eyes and full lips.

“Miss, have you heard of the castle’s invitation?” questioned one of them finally, after staring intently for a long while. No answer. Kellan was looking down now, breathing hard, and waiting for any chance to run again.

“Let’s just take her,” suggested another. With that, Kellan took off. She didn’t get far with the three of them so close, and the serious resistance she put up only made them more adamant about bringing her in. Tying her hands in front, the whole “willing maiden” thing was tossed aside. There’s no question as to this one, they began reasoning among themselves. When the prince sees her, he’ll no doubt reward us like royalty. It wasn’t sound thinking, but this was the last village stop, and the girl was too beautiful to leave behind. The warriors felt like they had caught a trophy deer and in that sense, treated her no better.

Still silent, but yanking her arms out of their hands with a defiant attitude, Kellan was marched up past the little shelter she had lived in her entire life. This is just unbelievable…so close to getting out of here, and now this! Could I just not be more cursed? Master Hewitt and Osma stood in front, pleading with the warriors to let her go. All her life they had protected her from discovery, not an easy task with a girl so spirited, only to lose her to a round-up of the most unusual sort. Glancing back at them, with rebellious curls hanging in her eyes and drops of sweat rolling down the sides of her face, Kellan mouthed one word as she was being loaded onto a cart, “Leave.”

Finally on board, Kellan looked up slightly at the others sitting around her and saw everyone staring back. How humiliating. It was the first time anyone else in the whole country had laid eyes on her. She and the old couple had often been the subject of conversation around the local villagers’ dinner tables. Their background and names were unknown, and even more intriguing was the fact that Kellan’s face had never been completely seen, mostly only her eyes. Yet, here she was, in full view. The other girls, who had been chatting vigorously since their boarding, became instantly quiet. Never had they guessed in their gossip sessions that the mystery girl was this extraordinary, obviously figuring that she must be quite the ugly duckling to stay covered all the time. Kellan looked down again, her hands still tied. Embarrassed beyond description and wishing she could just disappear, she did her best to ignore them. In time, the others all began to giggle again about meeting the prince. Strangle me now, thought Kellan as she rolled her eyes…the last thing she was interested in at this moment was romance.

During the course of the trip to the castle, Kellan tried escaping twice by jumping from her seat. Frustrated and afraid of losing her, the warriors covered her head with her hood, took her shoes, and forced her to walk beside the cart, strung along like cattle by her tied hands. All I need now is a bell around my neck, she thought miserably. It would have been more like Kellan to be fighting mad by now, but she was just too ashamed and her lost dreams had broken her heart. God, will this misery ever end, she silently prayed as she plodded along.

Her prayer life had been mostly one sided lately, as Kellan had been inattentive to what God had been trying to reveal to her, leaning more to talking to Him and not listening. It was something normally out of character for her, but like all believers do at times, she was trying to go her own way…and that way was far from Errigal. Accordingly, God, as He does with all those He loves, was mercifully bringing her back around to the wonderful purpose He had created her for, even if it meant towing her behind a horse drawn wagon to do it.

Not surprisingly, by the time the convoy reached the castle, Kellan was completely exhausted and dehydrated, her feet were bruised, and she was on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness. She swayed under the stress and fell to her knees. All the other girls, clearly excited and eager, hopped off the carts and lined up to enter the great hall of the giant, stone castle. Taking their prized, albeit limp, captive to the end of the line, the three capturing warriors stood by her, propping her up and proudly waiting for their unveiling.

***

Prince Ian was absolutely ecstatic about being home. He had missed Errigal and his father. The outside was definitely not for him. With respect to his uncle, he had agreed to this “pageant”, but was not in the least bit interested in picking a bride. It’ll be fun to entertain the girls though, he thought, so why not indulge Uncle a little? When it’s all over, I’ll say something to the affect of, “You are all so charming, I cannot choose.” And then I’ll send them all home. Walking down the line of maidens, Hahn and the prince welcomed each one. Errigal is not in want when it comes to lovely girls, and none on the outside can compare, Ian reflected as he greeted them. The prince was sold out to his country, and no one could convince him of anything different. Finally reaching the end of the line, Hahn questioned the warriors about the last maiden. She didn’t appear well.

“And who is this?” he said.

“My lord,” spoke the warrior called Shields, “we are not sure, as she wouldn’t say, but we knew we would be committing a terrible crime if we had not brought her.”

“Did she not want to come?” Hahn asked.

Another warrior chimed in, “Not exactly, my lord…but wait until you see her.”

“You were only supposed to bring willing maidens. Don’t you understand the meaning of the word?” Hahn was angry, his German accent sounding thick. Doing something like this could cause a major backlash if Errigalians thought their daughters were being forced to do something against their wishes. Prince Ian was mad too that the warriors had disobeyed and on top of it, probably caused some poor girl to be scared out of her wits. He stepped forward and pulled the hood back to console the young woman. Kellan took one blurred look at him and fainted, oblivious to her surroundings and out cold. Catching her and their breath, the prince and his uncle stood holding her, stunned, not solely because of her exceptional beauty, or because she had collapsed in their arms, but because the face was undeniably that of a McKensie.

***

The McKensie royal line once ruled Errigal. It was a matrilineal society, consisting of queens who passed down their name and position to their daughters, although the transition was never intentional at the moment it happened, and remarkably, all the daughters were very similar in appearance. In fact, nearly identical. The McKensie clan was unique in ruling. They had the love and respect of all the people because of their Godly wisdom and fearlessness in defending the country, having the propensity to join the ranks in leading a battle, if necessary.

Their reign ended when an invasion of the castle alone by a reclusive Germanic people living just across the border ambushed them unexpectedly. Unnoticed by the rest of the world, the entire extended McKensie family was slain except for one remaining young princess, only fifteen years old, who was next in line for the throne once her training was complete. Her father had been acting as sole ruler until then for her mother had died when she was quite little. She was protected during the onslaught by one of the youngest invaders who convinced the murderous horde that it would be wise to save one McKensie in order to preserve the villagers’ allegiance. This young man’s father eventually was elected king among them, and the princess remained in the court under the watchful eye of her teacher and lady servant.

After a couple of years, it became clear that the king’s son was deeply in love with the princess. This was not acceptable among the ruling commission, which led for the most part and used the passive king as a puppet. Killing her wasn’t suitable, because they feared an uprising of the people. It was no secret that the Errigalians hoped the princess would take back the kingdom someday, and then they would join the fight. Until then, they were like sheep without a shepherd when it came to war. Knowing she held such influence over the citizens and that the king’s son was spellbound, it fell to the commission to draw up a plan…and a nasty one it was.

A leader of the ambush, who titled himself Duke after he felt slighted at not being elected king, was always trying to have his way in the court proceedings. He finally convinced the commission to give him charge of a distant area on the outskirts of the country, a mountainous region known as Torrin and where fewer people lived in comparison to the valley. It was at this time that the commission had the grand idea that the princess should be sent to this far reaching area as the duke’s wife, despite the vast age difference, in hopes of causing the memory of her appearance in the court and country to fade away. The duke didn’t complain, thinking that maybe he could use her popularity to his advantage. With the support of the people, maybe he could one day wrest away the entire country. He did not love her, but with her beauty and youth, it was of no concern.

The prince, of course, was crushed and pleaded with his father for her. The king, too scared to go against the ruling commission and chance losing his position...and neck...did nothing. He felt terrible for his son and hoped that one day when he passed the crown down, his son would overcome the powerful board. With little notice, the princess was married off in the court, and Errigalians everywhere grieved heavily for her. She left the castle with the woman servant who had always attended her and her teacher, a man who had been trained by previous McKensie instructors. He was sent away as well for fear that he would influence the people to rise up with his articulate speech. The commission did not know he was unequivocally qualified to teach military tactics and fighting methods as well. If they had known, he would have been done away with in the beginning. While in the court, he had played as a simpleton, teaching only reading, writing, and arithmetic...when he was being watched.

The now married princess was traumatized by all that had transpired and really did love the German prince she was forced to leave behind. However, she had been trained by her teacher from an early age how to firmly control her actions and words, in order to remain calm and confident in all situations. The year that followed gave her many opportunities to put that instruction to use, all the while screaming on the inside. Not long after, while the duke was away on a trip, the princess gave birth to a daughter, a true McKensie in face. With orders left by the duke to kill the child if it was a girl, the woman servant whisked the baby away, escaping into the night.

Tragically, once a McKensie gave birth, she often died shortly thereafter, sometimes immediately. It was a fact turned into lore by those who said it was because a McKensie gave all she had in passing the baton to the next daughter. This unexplainable misfortune held true in this case as well, and the princess died before the duke returned. The teacher hurriedly saw to the burial and left, leaving a message that the mother and infant did not make it through childbirth. Back at the castle, the prince received the news with great mourning. He had corresponded with the princess secretly since her departure from the valley and fell into a dark depression while grieving, although in reality, he had never been the same since she had moved. His father died very soon after to add to the sorrow, and the prince, alone and heartbroken, was crowned king.

In an attempt to ease his pain, his friend, Hahn, encouraged him to quickly take a wife from among his own people and introduced him to his sister. The newly crowned king did his best to embrace his bride, but was never able to transfer his love fully away from the princess. Thankfully for his wife’s sake, he never let on, and shortly after marrying, they had a son. The king, seething still over the past, determined the ruling commission would never control his life as it had his father’s, nor was he going to risk them ruining his own son’s life either. A successful coup led to King Evert controlling the throne solely.

***

Over the years, King Evert had the castle returned to its former distinguished decor, including putting the portraits of the former ruling family back up on the walls throughout. It was no wonder the cloaked girl was immediately recognizable by Hahn and Ian, although they found it nearly impossible to believe she could be a true McKensie since the destruction of the family had been complete…or so they thought.

Hahn ordered Kellan, still unconscious, to be taken away and cared for. After questioning the regretful warriors who had captured her, followed by having them jailed for disobeying orders, he sent a small band of warriors to the little home in search of the old couple. There were so many more questions he wanted answered. When they arrived, the place was eerily desolate, and it appeared things had been taken in a hurry.

By nightfall Kellan was still asleep, recovering from the day’s trials. The prince was extremely curious as to her identity and at the same time, deeply saddened by his father’s seemingly soon to be passing from this world. It was as if the king wanted to die. Going through his father’s things some days ago in search of a necklace he had requested, Prince Ian discovered with it a packet of ribbon-tied letters. He picked them up again now and went to the library to look them over. He hoped they would give him some comfort and insight to his father’s past, something the king had forever been quiet about. Ian had always loved his father, and their relationship had been a close one, but he had noticed over the years that his mother’s relationship with his father had not always been the most intimate. The beautifully scripted letters explained much, and were also a good suggestion as to why his father had been such a fanatic about researching the McKensie reign. Upon approaching his uncle with the letters, Ian was told of the story of the McKensie princess and her forced marriage, a sad tale kept from him his whole life. It made him feel awful for his parents, and he quickly turned his attention to the castle’s newest patient for a change of thought.

In the days ahead, the physician, nurses, and the prince himself did their best to communicate with their recovering charge. She would not speak or make direct eye contact with any of them and to add to it, would not allow anyone to touch her when she was awake. It was like stepping on eggshells to administer any aid. Meanwhile, Hahn visited with the sick king regularly. Lately, he had been doing his best to direct the conversation to the early days of the court when Evert’s beloved princess was nearby. The uncle was feeling more convinced that the girl in their care was a McKensie of sorts and was looking for any clue to lead him to an answer. One day, as the king faded in and out of the conversations and in some irrational talk began speaking of a safe house, Hahn began to target the discussion to such a place. Apparently, the late princess had told the king when she was living in the castle of a safe house McKensies used for temporary emergencies…a hidden hillside cave area that was known only to them. The uncle sent a band of warriors to this place, and they brought back the old man and woman.

After being assured that the king and his court did not intend to harm or imprison Kellan, and feeling that at this stage they must intervene on her behalf for her life, the couple threw themselves on the uncle’s mercy and explained that she was the daughter of Princess Seanna McKensie and Duke Barend. Hahn brought this information to the prince, and Ian, loaded for bear so to speak, approached Kellan once more in the chambers where she had been recuperating. As expected, she would not respond to his well intentioned remarks or look him in the eye. About to turn and leave, the prince pulled out his ace card, and wished the “princess” a good night. Eyes flashing, her head lifted, and she gazed directly at the prince. Right then he knew.

“I am not a princess,” were her first words to him.

“I mean you no harm, my lady, and may I say that it is good to hear your voice finally.”

“Am I a prisoner here?”

“No,” Ian answered.

“When may I leave?”

“Now you’re the one with all the questions,” Ian smiled, “You may leave when the doctor says you are ready. And if you’d cooperate with him, it might be sooner than you think. As I said, I mean you no harm. From where do you come from, and what is your name?”

“My name is Sarah Jennings. I am a school teacher in Paris.” Well, at least that will be true if I ever get to France, she thought.

“Really? You don’t sound French. What are you doing in Errigal?”

Kellan ignored the obvious. He had really caught her off guard with the princess comment. “I’ve been visiting some distant relatives before the beginning of the school year. Now, I am being held captive in a place I should not be.”

She’s a terrible liar, thought the prince, smiling to himself. “Are you sure you should not be here?”

“Very sure,” Kellan said with confidence. That was something she believed with all her heart.

“Interesting. You see, I think maybe you are supposed to be here…maybe I’m the one who shouldn’t be. These aren’t my relatives’ pictures hanging on the walls,” Ian said, turning to look around the room.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I must leave at once. My aunt and uncle will be worried, and I have a position to attend to.”

“You need not worry about them, my lady. They are safe…here.”

Her eyes flashed again, this time with fire. “You better not harm them,” she said in a low voice.

Interesting reaction, thought Ian. “They are in safe hands, Princess. Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He walked out smiling and feeling that he had won this round.

The next day, the prince visited Kellan again. She was a challenge and absolutely stunning, just the thing to keep his mind off his father. “Good morning, Princess!” he said enthusiastically.

“I have told you before. I am not a princess.” Kellan was growing tired of these games. She wanted to leave and leave now. The only problem to solve was how to get Osma and Master Hewitt out as well.

“I know that’s what you said, but I also know who you are.”

Fine, she thought, I’ll lay it on the line. Whatever happens, happens, and at least there will be no more waiting. “If you know who I am, then you must realize it’s in your best interest to either kill me or allow me to leave for France. I have no hidden motives or intentions, my lord.” Although Kellan had been trained to be a proper lady in every way by the woman servant and trained to be a McKensie in every way by the teacher, she only wanted a normal life in the outside world where she believed freedom awaited her. She also knew that it was a certain fact that if her countrymen and women knew she existed, they would stage their long awaited revolt, hoping she would bring them victory. And since she had no plans to lead them, they would only be bringing danger upon themselves and possibly, the downfall of the nation as a whole - never mind the detail that if her half brother, now Duke of Torrin, knew she lived he would probably seek to kill her. It was said that he was an evil man.

“I will not hold you hostage,” said the prince, “but do you not believe that maybe God himself has brought you here for a reason unknown to any of us?” It was the prince’s understanding that the McKensies had been a very devout family of the Christian faith. His father, intent on following their example, had raised him as a believer as well, bringing in a local minister to share his faith and disciple him. He wondered now if speaking in a spiritual sense might get him somewhere.

In actuality, his question had crossed Kellan’s mind before, but she wasn’t interested in spiritual matters right now. She had been concentrating on what she wanted, and not what God wanted. Why is he going there? She felt like taking him by the shirt and yelling in his face, “Let me out!” Before she could answer though, a servant banged heavily on the door. He had come to report that King Evert was waning and on the verge of death. Quickly, the prince ran out and to his father’s chambers. Tired from their duel of words, Kellan slumped down under her covers, wishing away her current trial with all her might.

Later that evening, with everyone’s attention on the dying king, Kellan managed to sneak out of her room. Her objective was to find Osma and Master Hewitt and get out before anyone reported her missing. The place was just huge, and she didn’t know where to start. Barefoot and as quiet as a passing cloud, she ventured down the lamp lit hall and found that she was on the same floor as the king’s chambers, obvious because of the amount of activity that was going on near the doorway. This was not the way she wanted to go. She spun around and started to head in the other direction, but instead found herself facing a warrior of Errigal. He didn’t scare her really, and her first reaction was to black his eye with her fist. In turn, that led to a half dozen more gathering round, and a struggle soon commenced…a loud one at that.

Hearing the commotion, Prince Ian stepped out of his father’s chambers, saw the clash, and ran down the hall. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, as he pulled the warriors away from Kellan. It alarmed him that she was out in the open. “My lady, what are you doing here?”

She would have liked to have said, “Trying to escape, you overgrown moron” but figured that would not have been in her best interest. Prince Ian was not average in height or build by any means, and coupled with a few warriors, she didn’t think she could take them all at once with no weapon, not to mention while in a constrictive ankle length tunic. Breathing heavily and straightening herself, she tried to sound innocent and made something up, “I just came to inquire about your father, my lord.” Even when she was lying to protect her life, Kellan hated doing it, so she never was real convincing.

Prince Ian stood staring at everyone for a moment, trying to discern what happened. No one spoke, but he didn’t quite believe the princess was telling the truth again. “What happened to you?” he said finally, noticing the swollen eyed warrior. Kellan winced and bit her lower lip. Here it comes, she thought. Mentally, she began to calculate her chances at getting away, and the odds weren’t looking too good. The warrior was too prideful to admit a girl had connected a punch and just hung his head, mumbling something to make it sound like he had given a response.

“My lord,” called a nurse. “Your father is asking for you.”

Ian wheeled around to return to the room. Suddenly, he stopped short and went back. Grabbing Kellan by the hand, he took her with him. They entered the quiet, dark room with reverence. Kellan had never been near anyone deathly ill, and it made her very uncomfortable. The king was calling out Ian’s name, and the prince went to his bedside, still holding Kellan by the hand to her dismay.

“I’m here, Father,” said the prince. King Evert turned his head toward his son’s voice. Noticing someone standing beside him, he lifted his head up slightly, and his eyes grew wide. “Ian,” he said breathlessly, “where did you find her?”

The prince looked at Kellan. She stood very still and said nothing. The king’s eyes were locked on her, and he held out his hand to her. “Seanna?”

Ian started to jump in and explain, but Kellan squeezed his hand to stop him. Letting go of the prince, she slowly reached down to take the king by his hand and sat on his bedside, her apprehension melting away. She suddenly felt a deep compassion for him.

“My king,” she said smiling, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I thought, I thought you were gone,” he stammered weakly. He held her hands tight.

“Just for a little while,” she said gently. “I see you still have my necklace.” And with that, she began to converse with the king as if she were her mother. Growing up, Kellan had access to her mother’s diaries and old letters. The woman servant had kept all these safely hidden from the duke and took them when she left. Kellan recounted stories and spoke of things that only her mother would’ve known, bringing a peace to the king that no one had seen in years. He was clear in thought and undeniably full of joy. After proudly speaking of his son to her, he stretched out a hand toward Ian’s and brought it to his chest to join Kellan’s. He closed his eyes and with a smile on his face stepped over to the other side.

***

The next morning, after Prince Ian thanked her profusely for the kindness she had shown to his father, Kellan McKensie was given leave for France. She promised Master Hewitt she would stay under the cloak until after crossing the border and kissed him and Osma goodbye. The couple had been given the honor of living at the castle, a very reassuring thing to Kellan because now she didn’t have to worry about their welfare. Right before she left, the teacher reminded her that although she sought a “normal” life, it may be that her destiny would seek her out, and she should be attentive for that call if it came. Let it try to catch me, she thought, waving and riding off on horseback for the outside.

End of Chapter 1

Copyright © 2014 by Sarah Jennings

Order Now!

<< Go Back