by L. Danvers
“It’s your brother, Prince Phillip. He took a turn for the worse the day after you left. Durwin did everything he could to save him, but...” His voice cracked. He drew his fingers to cover his mouth, as if afraid to finish the sentence.
“But...” she said cautiously, unsure she wanted to know the answer.
“The prince is dead.”
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“THE PRINCE IS DEAD.”
The words echoed in her mind. Princess Daphne drew her fingertips to her temples and rubbed her head. She didn’t understand. How could her brother be dead? She had done everything in her power to save him. Her fingers trailed down her face, along her neck and rested over her heart, just above the neckline of her wedding gown. Her fingertips dug into her flesh. It felt like a knife had pierced into her, twisting more with each passing moment. She gulped down the lump in her throat.
"I am so sorry," Sir Walter, her father’s loyal knight, said to her. He couldn’t manage to look Daphne in the eye. It was too hard. He stared at the ground and said, "We have been searching for you for days. The king has requested your presence at your brother’s funeral."
Baudwin, the newly knighted traitor who came with Sir Walter, didn’t say a word. He sat there on his horse with his broad shoulders squared back, as if he took some sick sense of pride in being one of the men to deliver the news. He’d turned on Gregory the first chance he got, all because Gregory had brought Daphne to their camp instead of gold. Daphne wondered how much gold he’d been offered in exchange for information on where the camp was located. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing did. Her twin was gone. Tears raced down her cheeks. She didn't bother wiping them. How could this be happening? It didn't make sense. That wiry-haired woman had predicted the prince would die on his quest. Daphne and Lillian had gone after him. They’d secured the help of Gregory, Thomas and Merek, three outlaws taking up camp in the silver forest. Daphne had killed an atrocitas, escaped from the capture of a band of brutes and evaded giants to rescue her brother. She had brought him home. He was wounded, but he was alive. It was well within the court physician’s abilities to save him. What could have happened in the time between her and Gregory running away together and now?
Gregory's hand graced the small of Daphne's back. "We should go to the funeral.”
Her eyes swelled with tears. They were in the middle of their wedding. "But..."
“He was your twin. We should be there.”
Was. The knife in Daphne’s chest twisted again.
Sir Walter cleared his throat. He cupped the back of his neck, managing to look at the couple directly, and said, “The princess is to come alone.”
Gregory nodded, assuring Daphne it was alright to leave him. She didn’t want to, not now. How could she? They hadn’t even finished their vows. This was wrong. All wrong. She shook her head as if to wake herself up from this nightmare, but no relief came. This was real, and it was time to go home so that she could give her twin brother a proper goodbye. She owed him that. Gregory would wait for her, and when she returned, they’d finish reciting their vows on a day that wouldn’t be remembered for its tragedy. She wished he could come with her, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Going alone would be the wise thing to do. She feared her father’s wrath if Gregory were to return to the castle with her. They had just run away together, right in the middle of the banquet during which her father had promised her hand to his royal advisor, Sir Hartley. Gregory’s brother. To her knowledge, the king wasn’t aware of the relation between the two of them, but Sir Hartley was always whispering in King Edgar’s ear. He was sure to have Gregory thrown in the dungeon if he dared return. Or worse.
"Can you ever forgive me?” she asked, her face glistening with tears.
Gregory gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and whispered, "There's nothing to forgive, my love."
He helped her onto the back of Sir Walter's horse. He offered her a forced smile, as if her leaving in the middle of them exchanging their wedding vows wasn't breaking his heart. Gregory eyed Baudwin, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “Take care of her,” he said to the two men.
"I will," Sir Walter replied. Baudwin grunted.
Daphne wrapped her arms around the waistline of Sir Walter's clunky armor, and they took off for the castle. Daphne looked back at her husband and watched him fade away as the distance grew between them. She shook her head. No, he wasn't her husband, she reminded herself. Not yet, at least. The ceremony wasn't complete. Soon, she promised herself. The thought of it made her stomach twist into knots. She prayed that she would wake up any moment and that everything would be as it had been before. All she'd been through, all that she’d put her friends through... It had all been for nothing.
No, that wasn't true. It wasn't for nothing. She met Gregory, didn't she? If she and Lillian had never left the castle, they never would have met Thomas or Merek either.
But her brother was dead just the same.
It was her fault. She was sure of it. If she had stayed within the castle walls, she could have looked after and protected Phillip. She had been so sure that the court physician could save him. Why didn’t he?
She should have just played the part her father wanted her to play. The pretty princess without a thought in her head. The princess who followed tradition without question. The princess who adhered to duty without complaint. If she had been the girl everyone wanted her to be, the girl even her twin wanted her to be, none of this would have happened.
Daphne kept watch on Baudwin the entire ride. She gritted her teeth, not minding exuding hatred toward him. He had betrayed Gregory’s trust. And to think, her father had knighted him for it. She didn’t have to ask what happened. She knew. Baudwin, a disgruntled outlaw from Gregory’s camp, had gone to the king and told him where she and Gregory were. He told King Edgar that Daphne and Gregory were getting married, too. If Baudwin had any sense at all, he would not be so quick to betray the king as he had been to turn on Gregory. The king didn’t take kindly to disloyalty, but then again, neither did Daphne. She wished she’d had the foresight to bring her trusted sword, Light of Vengeance, along with her when she fled the castle. Not that she would kill him. Her adventures hadn’t made her that callous, but she wouldn’t mind giving him a little scare. Just to teach him a lesson.
Sitting behind an armored knight was anything but comfortable. She rode side-saddle in her wedding gown with her arms secured around Sir Walter. She’d known the knight for many years. He had saved her mother’s life once, and so Daphne had always looked up to Sir Walter as a man who represented everything a knight should be. She knew the story of her mother’s rescue by heart. Queen Melody, Daphne’s deceased mother, was a spirited woman who saw the best in every person she ever met. Years ago, when Daphne and Phillip were three years old, their mother had set out to meet with King Leopold and Queen Simone of the Calloway Isles. Daphne’s father was supposed to be the one to go, but he fell ill and was confined to his bedchamber. The rulers of Vires and the Calloway Isles met every two years as a show of good faith and to ensure peace between the two realms. Melody took it upon herself to journey to the Calloway Isles on his behalf. She didn’t tell her husband, of course. She had more sense than that. Luckily for her, he was far too ill to have noticed she’d left.
Sir Walter volunteered to go with her for protection. The queen didn’t think it was necessary, but she relented and permitted him to join her on the journey. Four days into their travels, they were riding along a quiet mountainside road when they heard a whistle and a scream. Their carriage came to an abrupt stop. The gilded doors of the carriage flung open. Before Melody knew what happened, a bandit with a deep scar on his left cheekbone grabbed her by the throat and held a blade to her neck. Sir Walter didn�
�t hesitate. He dug his sword into the bandit’s chest, threw the body back onto the road and jumped out of the carriage to fight off the others. The queen sat in the carriage, her fine gown splattered with the thief’s blood, shaking. She felt helpless. Hopeless. She vowed never to feel that way again.
Sir Walter drove the coach back in the direction of Vires. There would be no peacekeeping mission that year, an insult which the king and queen of the Calloway Isles would never forget. But upon their return, at the queen’s request, Sir Walter taught Melody to fight. And when her son Phillip came of age to carry a sword, she had him teach his sister everything he learned. King Edgar knew nothing of this. The lessons were done in secret, long after everyone else in the castle was asleep.
The sharp cry of a beast ripped Daphne from her thoughts and pulled her back into the present.
“What was that?” Sir Walter asked as he firmed his grip on his horse’s reins.
Daphne looked around to see if the beast was near.
“An atrocitas,” Baudwin replied. When Sir Walter didn’t respond, Baudwin explained, “They’re beasts that are said to possess the tortured souls of men who haven’t found peace in the afterlife. They’re as fast as wolves and as big as bears. Fearsome creatures, they are. You wouldn’t want to face one unarmed, but they’re no match for a blade.”
There it was again. That tortuous cry. Then she saw it and gasped.
Two amber eyes met hers.
The beast emerged from behind the cover of the trees. Its silver fur caught the light of the mid-day sun. Blood glistened on its fangs as its lips drew back in a snarl.
“It’s alright, my princess,” Sir Walter said. “I’ll keep you safe.”
He didn’t know she had killed an atrocitas before, back during her first journey through the silver forest. She’d had a sword then, though. Now, she had nothing but the hope that the two knights would protect her.
The atrocitas padded forward. Daphne’s heart thumped in her chest as memories of her last encounter with these beasts flooded back.
There was a crunch. Daphne turned around and found two more atrocitas approaching from behind. The horse she and Sir Walter sat on startled and gave a jump. The knight reached for his blade. Daphne turned to her right and saw three more atrocitas drawing near. They were surrounded. Beasts as big as carriages cornered the three of them. Baudwin dismounted from his horse and boasted that he would take care of them. Daphne shook her head. There was no way he could fight off this many alone.
“Stay here,” Sir Walter said to Daphne. He got off of the horse they shared, leaving her by herself. He firmed his grip on his blade and marched for the nearest beast. The animal snarled and reared its haunches. Then it pounced. Sir Walter was on his back. Blood-soaked slobber dripped onto his cheek as the beast licked its lips and went in for the kill. Daphne shut her eyes. She couldn’t watch.
There was a cry of pain, but it hadn’t come from Sir Walter. She squinted and then opened her eyes. Baudwin had sliced the head right off the beast. He didn’t waste any time fighting off the next one.
Even with his heavy armor, Daphne could see Sir Walter’s chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He gave her a quick look before springing to his feet along with his sword.
One of the beasts snapped at her horse’s legs, giving the horse such a fright that it jumped. The side of Daphne’s head thudded to the ground. She watched the horse run back for the castle. Daphne ran her fingertip along her cheekbone. It was wet. Blood trickled along her fingertips. She wiped the blood on her dress as she stood to her feet. Baudwin and Sir Walter were busy fighting off the beasts. Without a weapon of her own, there was nothing she could do but watch.
She flinched every time she heard a sword drive into the flesh of an atrocitas. The sound made her nauseated. She clutched her stomach, watching as one beast after another fell before her.
Only two of them remained. Sir Walter was holding the larger one off. He had backed it into a corner, but the animal was putting up a fight. Meanwhile, Baudwin was going head to head with a beast of his own. The atrocitas gave a tortured howl. It was a sound so terrible it made the hairs on Daphne’s neck stand on end. She wiped her bloody cheek with the back of her hand as she watched the exchange—Baudwin swinging his blade and the atrocitas dodging it. Baudwin danced his legs back and reared his sword. The atrocitas lifted its front paw and swatted Baudwin with such force that he landed face-down in the dirt, out cold. His sword went flying and landed between Daphne and the beast. She felt the penetrating stare of the atrocitas as she eyed the weapon. She could run, but the beast would find her. Without a weapon, she stood no chance. Sir Walter was too busy fighting off an atrocitas of his own to help her. She took a deep breath and lunged forward. The beast’s paw swiped over her head as she crouched down to grab it. There was a loud crack as the animal stepped on Baudwin’s leg as it padded toward her.
“My princess,” Sir Walter cried as he caught a glimpse of the exchange out of the corner of his eye. He looked back to the beast he was fighting, and as if with superhuman strength, he drove his blade into the flesh of the animal. A pain-filled cry echoed off the trees as the beast crashed to the floor of the silver forest.
He went after the final atrocitas, determined to protect the princess. But she didn’t need saving.
She looked to her side and spotted something strange. A dark area covering part of the forest floor. A hole. A trap. As she wielded her blade, her eyes darted between the hole and the beast. Her mind raced. She took off running. She looked over her shoulder, watching the animal race after her. It snarled and roared, spraying her with warm slobber. Her legs cried in pain as she charged. She glanced back once more. She had enough time. She curved to her right, circling the massive hole. The atrocitas focused on her alone, looking at its prey, not its surroundings. It reared back and leapt through the air. Daphne crouched and covered her head. There was a loud thump as its front paw fell against the outer edge of the trap and a whimper as the beast tumbled down. There was a thud. Daphne stood and peeked over the edge. The atrocitas was at the bottom of the pit. Mangled. Dead.
Daphne’s eyes were wet with tears. She dabbed them with the inside of her elbow, one of the few parts of her that wasn’t covered in blood or dirt. She gave a couple sniffles as Sir Walter called after her.
Grab your copy of Fate Surrendered today to keep reading this addicting fantasy adventure—you won’t believe what Daphne does next!
About the Author
L. Danvers has written books across a variety of genres, but is now sinking her teeth into paranormal romance. After binge-watching The Vampire Diaries and reading as many paranormal books as she could get her hands on, she felt "compelled" to write a vampire series of her own, Vampires of Crescent Cape.
Her goal as a writer is to offer readers an escape from reality—one in which they can explore new worlds, go on daring adventures, fight the bad guys and fall in love... all from the comfort of a cozy chair.
Her books are romantic, fast-paced and suitable for both teens and adults.
When she's not writing, you can find her in the kitchen trying out new recipes.
Get your FREE COPY of Blood Heirs (the prequel to Vampires of Crescent Cape) by joining her Readers' Group: www.ldanvers.com/subscribe
You can also connect with her on Facebook, Pinterest and BookBub
More from L. Danvers
VAMPIRES OF CRESCENT CAPE
Blood Heirs: Free Origin Story
Curses and Crowns: US | UK
Fangs and Fortune: US | UK
Stakes and Daggers: US | UK
THE FATE ABANDONED SERIES
Fate Abandoned: US | UK
Fate Surrendered: US | UK
Fate Reclaimed: US | UK
Series Bundle: US | UK
THE KRYPTOS CHRONICLES
Fostered Reality: US | UK
The Second Portal: US | UK
STANDALONE BOOKS
Conspiracy Unleashed: US | UK<
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Love in the Autumn Air: US | UK
Dedication
For my children and my loving husband. I love you to the moon and back.
