King Johann, taken hostage in secret, his kidnapper forges his seal to incite a war. The king, forced to write proof-of-life letters to his queen, hides secret messages in the love letters. The queen, traveling in disguise, embarks on a journey to find her husband.
Chapter One
Queen Isabel’s quivering hands gripped the cedar panel while
thoughts of her husband and that wretched war consumed her. It was the third hour of the night and her
swollen eyes produced but a single tear from their drought, a result of endless
sobs. Why did you leave us Johann? Why
did you go into battle?
A spectacle of shooting stars reflected across the still
waters of Lake Trinke. Queen Isabel
tightened her grip of the windowsill as her thoughts drifted to a fading
memory. She thought, my darling husband, your memory has been ripped
from me by the enemy of all that is sacred and good on this earth. She drew a breath of frosty air and buried
her face in her numbed hands. Her mind
strained to replay details of her husband’s departure.
* * * * *
Daylight penetrated the imperial bedroom. The queen’s eyes fluttered. She heard a voice calling from outside a
narrow window, adjacent to the royal bath. “Isha! Isha!”
King Johann called out to his wife once more, “Isha!”
Annoyed, she staggered out of bed, her eyes barely open.
The loving bride, who had been awake
half the night caressing her husband, had lost her sweet demeanor.
She furrowed her brow as she yelled out the window. “What?” Leaning her elbow on the windowsill, she looked
down from the second floor. The sight of
her husband, mounted on his horse and elegantly dressed with the
motif of his army in procession, caused the lines on her face to soften. She stared at his embellished armor, made of
bronze and covered with red-dyed leather.
His robe draped over his stallion and underneath it, she caught a
glimpse of his battle gear. A
gust of wind exposed the wooden scabbard that Johann, being left-handed, used for
carrying his sword. Covered in red
leather, the scabbard fit securely on his right side and had an ornate bronze
cap that encased the ends.
The queen, whose mood lightened upon seeing her man in
uniform, gave him a smile. “I love
you!” She screamed for the world to
hear.
The powerful rider held his white stallion in place,
gripping the reigns. “Come out here and
give me a proper good bye, woman.”
She proceeded to change out of her nightgown, near the
window, making sure to remain in his sight.
Once dressed, she dashed across the corridor and down a cedar wood
staircase.
He stood on the ground next to his horse and waited for her
to jump into his arms. After some sloppy
kissing, he picked her up and placed her on his stallion, sidesaddle. He walked next to the horse, pulling its
reins, leading it down a winding road toward the front gates. Dew blanketed over the blades of grass.
“Are you taking me with you?” She asked.
His only response was a smile.
“We’ve gone off the road,” she noticed, and with a
mischievous tone she asked, “Are we going to our secret spot?” She caught him stealing glances like a young man with a crush.
He remained silent.
Her playful tone continued, “If you expect me to undress
you with all that gear you have on, I’m going to need some coffee first.”
Coffee had been the queen’s favorite delicacy, regularly
brought to the palace from the trade ships.
“No.” He answered
nonchalantly.
“No to the coffee or no to the undressing?” She asked.
“Both.”
He stopped the stallion and taking her into his arms, he
slowly lowered her to the ground.
“I have something to give you,” he whispered.
He removed a small wooden box from his satchel. It smelled of cedar and had a long scarlet
thread tied in a bow.
Isabel untied the bow with her fingertips, removing the
silky thread, and wrapping it around her hair.
To her surprise, the box contained his ring, the Seal of the King. She looked into his hazel eyes and touched a
hand to her chest. “You never exit those
gates without your ring.”
He took her hand from her chest and placed it upon his
heart. His breath became one with hers, their
noses nearly touching. “Flesh of my
flesh,” he began in a sibilant tone, “I trust you, Isha. Keep the ring until my return.”
* * * * *
King Johann brought his white stallion to a halt, gripping
the leather reins, coming close to the edge of the cliff. He fixed his gaze on the army of foot soldiers
below. Rows of hundreds of archers and
swordsmen marched along the riverbank.
Michael turned to King Johann and warned, “It’s a
trap.” Michael was commander of the
royal army and high protector of the king.
He was an expert archer and carried a bow across his bare onyx back. His stately physique mounted the chestnut
horse like a granite statue. He never
left the king’s side. Every senior
official answered to Michael.
“I know.” King Johann
grunted, and placing his weight on his heels, brought his stallion to a gallop.
He started down the ridge of the
mountain.
“My lord,” Michael called out, “King Johann!” He followed down the hill. “Don’t you want to warn the others?”
Ignoring Michael’s beckoning, the king rode into the thick
holly forest.
Michael followed.
While crossing the thick brush, King Johann slowed his
horse’s gait.
Michael approached and rode alongside the king’s stallion. “My lord, I implore you, don’t get any
closer. You’re at great risk already.”
King Johann studied the army commanders. As he neared the riverbank, a ray of light
pierced the holly trees and turned Johann’s eyes golden green. He turned his gaze to Michael. “My father’s army slaughtered the entire male
population of Udom.”
“Yes, my lord, but Udom no longer exists.”
“Prince Serpia is Udomite.
He witnessed the destruction of his father’s kingdom from this riverbank. He was just a child when he fled to Toipeg.”
“How do you know this?”
“My father let him go.
He spared his life.”
“I think he should be a bit more grateful if the great king
spared his life.” Michael shook his
head. “If he’s looking for revenge, he’s
going to have to do better than this.
Look at that pitiful army.
They’re nothing but a bunch of drunken savages.”
A dark figure on a black horse appeared behind them in the
forest. “Oh but you’re wrong.” He projected.
“Serpia!” Michael
called out, drawing his sword.
Five men on each side of Prince Serpia immediately drew
their swords.
King Johann admonished Michael, “Sheath your sword!”
Knitting his brows, bunching the skin between them
into creases, Michael slowly sheathed his sword.
Prince Serpia approached Michael. “Those men out there, the ones you call
savages are only pawns.” He turned to
King Johann, “My real army is within your own kingdom.”
Letters from the King ... Coming soon!
