“I must return to Brightcastle for the birth of Princess Benae’s child,” Ramón said. “I’ll announce that your exile is coming to an end and you may be expected back by the end of autumn. If I haven’t heard from you by then, I’ll return here. I’ll not mention Captain Anton.”
“I can’t make any promises, Ramón,” Alecia said.
He looked at Vard and frowned. “Time will see to that, Princess. Just promise you’ll return.”
Alecia drew herself up. “You may now be Guardian of Brightcastle and a lord but you don’t have the power to order when I come and go. There was never any question about my return, just to the timing. I know my responsibilities, and now I have even more reason to return. I must see that the new… administration… is acting as it should.”
Ramón’s jaw tensed. “That’s a low blow. You must know I’d never do anything to hurt the kingdom?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to offend you. I just have to meet your wife and see for myself that all is well. Then perhaps I can decide my future in the kingdom. I’m sure the king will have his own beliefs about who should run Brightcastle.”
Ramón drew himself up, his face becoming impassive. “So be it, Princess. I’ll ready Brightcastle for your return. And you’ll see that Benae and I have only acted for the good of all.” He turned to Vard. “I once said I’d kill you the next time I saw you. I didn’t stay true to my word and you have the princess to thank for that. If you harm her again, I can’t say what will happen the next time we meet.”
Vard stared at Ramón as Alecia held her breath, certain there would be trouble, but he merely gave a small bow and Ramón left with a flourish of his cloak.
“Impertinent pup!” Vard said, but Alecia thought she detected the gleam of admiration in his eyes. He turned his head to her, his gold-touched emerald gaze softening as it fell upon his daughter. “What’s her name?”
“I thought we could name her together. Do you have any preferences?”
Vard frowned. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Iona.”
“Then let us call her that. Henceforth she will be called Princess Iona of Brightcastle.”
“And Izebel shall be her second name after Izebel the warrior queen.”
“Iona Izebel Zialni,” he said. “It has a certain ring to it.”
Alecia frowned. Why hadn’t he given his daughter his name? Anton. “We have much to talk of, Vard. Matters weren’t resolved between us when you departed. What passed in that time?”
Vard took a deep breath. “I met Leth a few days out. He challenged me. He said things I hope aren’t true.” He walked to the window and gazed at the reds and oranges of a magnificent sunset.
A shiver ran down Alecia’s spine. “What did he say?” she asked slowly. Did she really want to know?
He turned to her. “He suggested that he’d been intimate with you.”
She gasped. “It’s not true, Vard. I’d never betray you.”
“Leth held a certain sway over you. Are you certain that in one of those moments you didn’t couple with him?”
“No. How could you ever think that? I will hear no more of it. You’re my only love, the only man I’ve given myself to. Iona is your daughter.”
She watched Vard blush. Did he think she didn’t realize his suspicions regarding Iona’s paternity? Did he think he could escape his responsibilities that simply?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was the things Leth said, implying intimate knowledge of your body, and I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Don’t plead insanity, Vard. I’ve been true to you and you’ve abused me, abandoned and insulted me. What more can I expect in our future? We have a daughter to protect and to raise. Will you stand up for us or are you preparing to run again now you’ve swept in and saved the day?
“I told you I wasn’t worthy of you. Is it only now you’re beginning to see I’m right?”
His tone was hard and uncompromising, as though he wouldn’t let himself feel the insults she delivered. Looking as he did – unshaven, if a little cleaner than when he burst in after nearly six months absence – anyone would wonder at her sanity for declaring him the father. But she knew the real Vard. He was so much more than this, so much more than a feral shape-shifter, out of control and frustrated with his lot. Life hadn’t been kind to either of them, and it was time to reclaim their happiness.
“I love you, Vard Anton,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re the love of my life and the father of my child. See your daughter.” She turned Iona in her arms and the infant gazed up into her father’s eyes.
He gasped. “Her eyes… they’re like mine!”
Alecia studied the golden flecks in her daughter’s blue eyes. “I think she’s a Defender, just like her father. Is it possible?”
He laughed without amusement. “You ask me? I’ve never met a female Defender, but it could be possible. Perhaps one day I’ll know.”
“I see the doubt in your eyes. You doubt me and yourself, but she has your heritage and you must be a part of her life. She needs you.”
“I wouldn’t abandon her.”
“You would if you believed you threatened her. But it’s different now. You must stay and see this through. I won’t face the lonely days again as I did during my pregnancy.”
Vard returned to the bed and sat beside Alecia, holding their child. She stared deep into his eyes, believing she could read his intent.
“I love you, Alecia, and I love our child. I’ve faced darker days than you can imagine since we parted, days when I was sure I’d never see you again. I entered a place where nothing existed but survival. I’m frightened I could slip back into that hell. I know what you’re asking but are you sure you know what will be involved? I don’t want to scare you again and, more importantly, I dread hurting you and Iona.
“During the time you were absent,” Alecia said, reaching for his hand, “I know you were the wolf more often than not. That form saved your life and has saved me as well. I think it’s time we both accepted what you are.”
“Alecia,” he said, his eyes unbearably sad, “it’s not just the wolf. When Ramón found me, I was insane. I was a human animal. I have no real recollection of what I did. What if I slip back into that again?”
Alecia’s heart ached at the fear in his voice. “You’re safe here, dearest. Forget what you are and let the peace of this farm heal you. Let’s spend this time, until our return to Brightcastle, building our family. You can help Master Andra with the farm.”
He smiled. “I want to believe it’s that simple. Is it?”
She smiled back at him. “It really is.” She ignored the voice of reason that told her Vard still needed to master his gifts, especially so when their daughter might share the talent.
“Can you forgive me, my love?” he said. “I’m ashamed of my behavior after we fled Amitania. I’ll never frighten you again. You have my solemn vow that I’ll only ever worship you with my body.”
Alecia reached out and clutched a handful of his long dark hair, pulling his face closer. “I forgive you. I know the time with Leth confused and frustrated you.” She kissed him on the lips, long dormant feelings surging to the fore. “Love me now, Vard. It has been so long.”
“Nay, my darling,” he said, his pupils large with need. “You need time to recover. But soon we can make a brother or sister for this beautiful girl.” He caressed the glossy dark hair of his daughter’s head. She watched her father with serious eyes. Alecia could only imagine the glorious challenges such a child would bring.
“I shall look forward to that,” she whispered, pulling him close for another kiss. She felt the surge of emotions within her man and knew it wouldn’t be many days before they would again be one.
THE END
Thank you for reading Princess in Exile. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review at your favourite ebook retailer. Alecia and Vard’s story ends here for now, but we’ll be seeing more of them in coming books.<
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I hope you’ll continue to support my author career by purchasing Book 4 in the Queenmakers Saga, The Lord and the Mermaid. Read below for a sample of the book.
Thanks so much!
Regards
Bernadette Rowley
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Acknowledgements
To Louise Cusack for her inspiration and advice over the last ten years.
To my street team who are always there to support me.
To my husband, Michael, and my sons for their unending love and support and for sharing in the disappointments and triumphs of a writing life.
About the Author
Bernadette Rowley is a lover of epic fantasy who is a veterinarian by day and an author by night. She is currently published in the genre of epic fantasy romance with eight books, all set in her fantasy world of Thorius.
When she was a young teenager, an aunt gave her a copy of The Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks and Bernadette has lived in various fantasy worlds ever since. It’s no surprise that her chosen genre when writing romance is fantasy.
“I can see these settings so vibrantly in my mind and hope my readers can too.”
But Bernadette has no desire to spoon-feed her readers by laboriously describing her fantasy settings. She would rather the reader use their own imagination a little.
Along with sword and sorcery, dashing heroes and stunning heroines, this author includes strong healing themes in many of her books- an element which is central to her everyday job.
“When I started writing the Queenmakers Saga, I never imagined my day job would force its way into my stories as it has.”
And of course, there are animals, especially Bernadette’s beloved horses.
Bernadette lives in Brisbane, Australia, with the four heroes in her life- her husband Michael and three grown sons.
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Preview - The Lord and the Mermaid
(The first chapter of Queenmakers Saga Book 4)
Nikolas Cosara loved the beach after a storm, and last nights had been as fierce as any he’d seen. Nik always walked the beach the morning after tempest, driven to explore the flotsam the waves left behind; the driftwood he’d carve into the likeness of sea creatures. Sometimes he found treasures in the piles of debris.
A dark mound appeared on the beach ahead, likely a dead sea creature. Sometimes they made good eating. As he drew closer, he discerned a tail, like that of the dolphins that frolicked in the bow wave of boats. Pain seared his heart at the thought of the majestic creature beached, never again to laugh at the folly of sailors. Yes, a dolphin’s tail, smooth and gray, not a scale to be seen. No more could be spied of the beast. Seaweed and driftwood covered the remainder, along with the strands of a scarlet wig, the kind that ladies sometimes wore at court.
Nik tugged at the red strands but couldn’t remove the wig from the pile. He dragged the seaweed away and froze. He had revealed a woman’s chest, complete with perfect breasts. Her alabaster skin held a faint green tint, but he couldn’t see her face. Frantic, he tossed away debris, seaweed and driftwood and turned her to the weak morning sun. A pulse beat feebly at her throat, but her breath barely moved her chest. He pushed aside the rest of the debris, his heart pounding fit to burst.
A sneaking, murdering, mermaid. He clenched his teeth to hold in the shriek that fought its way from his throat. At last he’d found a small piece of revenge against the sea nymphs; a life for his brother’s. He stared at the perfect features, full pale lips, high cheekbones, long reddish lashes, placed in a heart-shaped face that had likely lured dozens of sailors to their deaths. And that bosom; no man could gaze upon that without wanting to touch the luscious curves. Oh yes, this monster had all the tools of the trade, but she’d not kill another man if he had anything to say about it.
He pulled the knife from his boot and raised it, ready to deliver a fatal strike. Something stayed his hand. A kernel of sanity urged him to use this being to discover what happened to Jon. Suddenly, Nik was looking into brilliant sea-green eyes. A keening song sliced through his skull and he stiffened, the knife falling from his hand.
*
I have killed him! Merielle’s heart faltered as she watched the man topple to the sand. It was the shock of seeing him standing over her, brandishing that knife, knowing he meant to kill her. Helpless on the sand, her only defense had been “the song”. She had used it without thought, desperately, instinctively. The humans were right, her people were monsters.
Meri hauled herself out of the rubbish, her head whirling, and fell back as agony lanced through her right shoulder. She clutched it, resting against the driftwood, breathing deeply until the pain began to ebb. Beached and injured! How her mother would sneer at her!
She gathered her breath and pushed a pile of driftwood from her hips with her good arm. This time she was able to roll toward her victim. She placed a hand on his chest, felt its gentle rise and fall. He lived! But even as she watched, his skin lost color, his breathing slowed. Meri closed her eyes and crooned her healing song, low at first, then louder, but not so strong that he would regain his senses too soon. His mind waves stuttered and returned to a normal rhythm; well, normal for a human. His broad chest heaved and settled into the even breaths of sleep. She sighed. This man would not die at her hands, making a mockery of her life, of her plans.
She studied the human. His skin was tanned a golden brown and his honey-blond hair, tangled in long locks, was tied in a bunch at the back of his neck. His lips were full and sensual, his nose straight and strong, slightly broad at the nostrils. Neatly-trimmed hair lay above and below his mouth. Even the wicked scar that sliced across his left cheekbone enhanced his beauty, made him appear dangerous, even while asleep.
Meri’s gaze fell to the man’s torso and she truly lost her breath. His shoulders had a lovely width, swooping into upper arms the size of most men’s thighs. A smattering of golden hair peeked from the open neck of his shirt. He groaned and turned his head but didn’t wake. She seized the knife and hid it beneath her.
He had wanted her dead when he saw her amongst the rubbish. That was natural, their peoples ever at war. She had come here to change that in her small way but had not banked on the storm. At least it might stop her people from pursuit long enough for her to escape. But now she was injured, her options limited. She couldn’t linger in the shallows and around the harbor, hoping to tempt a man to take her into his heart. She hadn’t the strength for that, not for weeks yet if she was any judge of an injury. And this man’s hatred was too strong for her to believe he would help her.
Meri arranged her long red tresses to cover her breasts and took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She could manage him if he reacted with violence again. She could. He groaned again and her traitorous heart leapt. Anything could happen. He was a man, wild and uncultured, beautiful and fierce, and he hated her.
And then he opened his eyes, magnificent turquoise orbs that reminded her of the scales on the little reef fish. She could not look away. He stiffened and levered himself up on his elbows. Meri felt the muscles of his stomach just before she pulled her hand away. His gaze raked over her and she was glad she had covered her breasts.
“What do you want?” he said, his voice deep and low.
“I do not wish to hurt you, sir,” Meri said.
He drew in a quick breath. “You speak my l
anguage.”
She gave a delicate snort. “Of course I do. If you bothered to ask, I could have told you that earlier. Instead you tried to kill me.”
“I contemplated it.” He looked around and she knew he was looking for his knife.
“Is this what you seek?” She held up the wicked blade, the movement sending a stab of agony into her shoulder. Her stomach roiled at the pain, but she tried to hide it. “I’m afraid I shall have to keep it, if only to ensure my safety.”
“You’ve proven you need no knife, Madam,” the man said, rubbing his right temple as if it still throbbed.
“Ho! So now I’m ‘madam’. Thank you very much.”
“Why am I not dead?” He sat up and Meri braced for his lunge.
“Contrary to your opinion, I did not try to kill you, only defend myself.” Perhaps she might talk herself out of this?
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Very noble of you, but why would you stay your hand?”
She lifted her chin. “I have my reasons. Besides, why need there be war between our peoples?”
“I’ve good reason to hate your kind,” he said. “Even if it wasn’t personal, your people are a plague on the oceans.”
“I could say the same. You have no right to sail the seas, dropping your waste and stealing our bounty. But I do not want to argue with you. I need your help.”
“Ah,” he said, “now we come to the reason I’m still alive.” He stood, wincing at the movement.
“Please, Sir, listen to me.” Meri realized this man could leave her stranded on the beach. Anyone could come along, and she’d have to go through this again.
“I am sorry my people have harmed you in whatever way,” she said, “but I am not responsible. I have fled my family and need your help.”
“Why should I believe you’re any different to the rest of your race?”
Meri drew herself up. “I do not lie.”
Princess in Exile Page 18
