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Book Blurb:
Once upon a time…
A young lady named Izzy was abducted by marauders and forced into slavery. Upon her arrival at the castle, she was taken in by one of the king’s advisors, a wise and kindly man. As time passed, she fell in love with a young man whom she later discovered was the prince.
This prince, Trevarius, as he was not the direct heir to the throne, enjoyed a rather carefree lifestyle. But he found Izzy fascinating and was drawn to her. To his dismay, his brother chose Izzy as his wife to spite Trevarius.
Will Izzy and Trevarius lose their happily-ever-after?
Excerpt:
The birds began to sing. Or rather, shriek. The high-pitched noise was followed by the loud whir of wings as they lifted into the air. Isadore crooked her neck and watched them rise into the sky, obliterating the sun for a second; then, she was forced to shade her eyes from its glare. Subtly, another noise replaced the first, coming from the same direction as the birds had and getting louder and louder with each passing moment.
What is…horses!
A chill washed over her that had nothing to do with the frigid water she was standing in. She had come with a dozen others to wash clothing in this stream. The water wasn’t as deep as their normal creek bed; however, it was closer to home, which is why they had chosen it. Nearby villages had been raided of late, and parents wanted their daughters nearby. She scanned the horizon and saw it. The wisp of smoke that meant others had been to their village.
Her warning burst from her mouth at the same time the mounts erupted from the tree line surrounding the watering hole.
“Riders!”
She moved as quickly as she could in the waist-deep water, releasing the shift she had been washing, letting it slowly drift away as the quiet, idyllic scene of moments before changed into a nightmare. Horses came charging into the water from the banks, and women screamed as they attempted to flee but were caught up in the hands of riders. She searched for her sister, Ysmay, and caught sight of her red dress. A man had his arm around her neck and shoulders as he dragged her from the water, kicking and wailing.
“Nay! Ysmay!” She began to wade in that direction, frustrated by the resistance of the water and the weight of her dress. All she could do was cry out and watch as the man hauled her sister onto his mount and plopped her in front of him. He laughed and pulled on his horse’s reins, twisting its head back to the bank. “Nay. Release her.” Ysmay at fourteen was two years her senior; yet, as she was smaller framed, people often mistook them for twins.
Ysmay turned. Isadore couldn’t hear her but read her lips. “Flee, Izzy!”
Her view of Ysmay was cut off when a soldier and his steed cut between them, a yard away. The man grabbed a younger girl, who couldn’t have been more than ten, and she screamed. With dismay, Izzy realized that it was too late to help Ysmay; on the other hand, maybe she could at least save this one girl. Isadore struggled forward and lunged at the last second to latch onto the girl’s leg before she could be plucked from the stream. Getting her feet under her, Isadore reached further to try to claw the girl from the man’s grasp and almost succeeded. However, she was so focused on prying his fingers from the girl’s arm that she didn’t see the sword in his other hand until it was too late.
She managed to whirl so that the broadside of the sword didn’t connect with her face, still the solid blow to the temple area knocked her several feet. The fury of noise about her was drowned out as she sank under the surface of the water. Everything was muffled, save for the ringing in her ear, although she was unable to determine if that was a sound or simply a sensation. Her head was heavy, and she would have slipped into unconsciousness and drowned had she not, in her flailing, cut her foot on a rock. The sharp pain kept the blackness at bay. She blinked, looking up as a splotch of crimson floated eerily by. Something knocked against her, and she spun to find herself nose to nose with a corpse. Mistress Blackny drifted past, her eyes wide though unseeing, her throat slashed, and a steady stream of blood coloring the water surrounding them. The mistress was her best friend Thea’s grandmother and was more of a grandmother to Isadore than her own. In her horror, Isadore scrambled upright again, breaking the water and sputtering, disconcerted by the return of the noise and action all around her, and the fact that the girl she’d been trying to save, and the rider who had been attempting to steal her, were nowhere in sight. Had she lost her senses after all?
She didn’t have much time to consider it as a new agony assaulted her when her single braid was yanked, dragging her against a boot and stirrup. As the rider bent over his horse, his voice was near, although she couldn’t see him with her head forced down by his grip on her hair. She could, however, see the sword he threatened her with.
“Get on this horse or I’ll run you through.”
The blade was at eye level, giving her an idea. She took a breath and dove underwater. The sudden motion threatened to drag her captor from his saddle; so, like she’d hoped, he reflexively brought his sword hand in to brace himself against the side of the horse. The blade sliced her hair, freeing her and leaving him holding her limp braid.
If she tried to swim away from the ruckus, he would no doubt catch her. Her only choice was to make her way once more into the middle of the fray.
When she surfaced for air, she was in much shallower water and able to move more quickly than before. She heard the man with her braid cursing behind her and striving to rotate his horse.
“Seize her!” he screamed, but everyone else was involved in their own skirmish, and she was able to make it ashore.
Some of the raiders had hung back, out of the water; however, the nearest was several yards at a distance. Hearing the shouts, though, he twisted in his saddle and spotted her. He tugged on the reins and spurred his horse to pursue her. Trying to pull her wet skirts up to free her feet, Isadore ran as fast as she could, knowing he would be on her in seconds, and that all hope would be lost. Still, luck was with her, and the horse slid on the muddy bank giving her precious time to escape.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw her neighbor, Avalon, who had also managed to make it to shore, captured by the man who had been chasing her and another from the group on shore. Izzy’s gaze connected with Avalon’s, and a stab of despair pierced her. She turned and kept running.
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