Queen in Exile

by Donna Hatch

  Donna Hatch

  Walnut Springs Press, LLC

  110 South 800 West

  Brigham City, Utah 84302

  http://walnutspringspress.blogspot.com Copyright © 2010 by Donna Hatch

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  ISBN: 978-1-935217-63-3

  To Tom, who most definitely is not in trouble.

  Acknowledgments

  A big thanks to my family, who are my very best cheerleaders, especially when self-doubt comes in. Also to my fellow ANWA and Desert Rose RWA sisters, who have offered immeasurable encouragement. And special thanks to Linda Prince for her tough love that helped make this story even better.

  Chapter One

  The thundering hoof beats of her two guards’ mounts grew steadily louder behind her while Jeniah, on her own duocorn, fled Arden City as if a pack of wyrwolves pursued her. Jeniah glanced over her shoulder and willed her guards away, knowing such a wish was foolish. How she longed to truly escape Arden, her stifling role, and the terrifying new future she must soon accept. Jeniah could no more escape her destiny than she could escape her personal guards, but for a few blissful moments, she would be Jeniah. Not a princess, not a scholar, not a bride of some far-off, faceless prince. Just Jeniah.

  Her duocorn, Egan, settled into a comfortable canter, his double-horned head nodding with each stride. Her guards matched her pace behind her, and she tried to forget they were there. Birds roosting in the trees scattered at their approach, fluttering deeper into the woods. Embracing the exhilaration of riding, Jeniah flung her arms out to each side, imagining how it might feel to soar unfettered into the great unknown, without a care.

  Cantering over the cobblestones, Egan rounded a bend in the highway. Without warning a side path appeared, calling to Jeniah with irresistible force. She reined sharply. Egan danced against the reins, turning a full circle, and shook his head, making the bridle jingle. Jeniah’s pulse galloped and her stomach quivered. She stared down the path, irresistibly drawn, feeling the stirring whispers of destiny.

  Breneg and Ciath halted their duocorns on either side and drew their swords, searching for signs of danger.

  “Your Highness?” Breneg said in alarm.

  Her gaze fixed on the path, Jeniah held up her hand. “Nothing’s amiss, Breneg. I wish to be alone.” Her voice sounded oddly distant, oddly hoarse.

  “Alone? Your Highness, we cannot guard you if—”

  “Only for a few moments, Breneg.” Without looking at him, Jeniah knew her sternness had surprised him.

  Jeniah could not explain the urgent compulsion to traverse the path alone, but the power beckoned to her very soul. Her heart skittered, and she could no longer resist the lure. Without waiting for further response, she urged Egan forward. The path seemed ordinary. It led from the highway to a shallow hollow that appeared equally mundane, yet a shiver of anticipation raised bumps on Jeniah’s arms.

  She dismounted, leaving Egan to graze, and walked deeper into the woods. She paused behind a tree, and the moment she knew her guards could no longer see her, she blurred. The familiar warm, tickling sensation spread over her, blending her with her surroundings. If Breneg and Ciath were to spot her now, she’d appear as nothing more than a sapling or a shrub.

  A part of her feared her strange magic. Magic had been the cause of the Great Wars. In Arden, magic was shunned, feared. Not even her faithful lady-in-waiting knew Jeniah’s power.

  In moments of irony, Jeniah wondered why she bothered blurring. Her family acted as if she were already invisible, unless they remembered their need to forge allies.

  Breneg and Ciath moved away, their duocorns’ hooves rustling the dried leaves. No doubt they were following their usual pattern to sweep the area for danger, spiraling outward in opposite directions, and then tightening the spiral until they returned within visual distance of her. She would have a few minutes of solitude before they returned. Eventually, she’d have to stop blurring and reveal herself, or they’d grow frantic.

  Jeniah stepped over a log peppered with mushrooms and walked deeper into the woods, following the irresistible call. Fallen leaves crunched under her riding boots. She hurried along the sun-dappled path, eager to discover the source of the compelling summons. At the rise of a hollow, she stopped. Chills of excitement tingled her spine. She held her breath.

  An enormous golden-brown animal stood on four legs at the far edge of the hollow. Sunlight slanted down through the woodland trees, giving his thick pelt and mane an iridescent shimmer. Jeniah gasped. Truly, it could not be! She stared in disbelief at a sacred chayim.

  He was magnificent. She felt as if she were in the presence of deity, ancient and wise beyond human comprehension. Her mouth went dry and she fell to her knees.

  She’d heard the stories, of course. She’d listened, enraptured, as minstrels related accounts—legends, some said—of a chayim choosing a maiden of surpassing purity and courage, bonding with her, and guiding her as she led her people to a bright new future. In private moments of hope, Jeniah had dared to dream a chayim would choose her.

  Jeniah’s heart pounded as if trying to escape her chest, and her breath came in gasps. Nearly overcome, she waited for the chayim to determine her worthiness. She stood and lowered the hood of her cloak, careful to make no sudden movements lest she frighten him away.

  Moving with regal grace, the chayim padded down the slope into the hollow and stopped barely out of reach. His shoulders were level with her head, and he was even longer than he was tall.

  Quivering in excitement, she held out a hand. The beast took another step toward her. His long neck curved and his head dipped down while a pair of dark, intelligent eyes probed hers. She waited, trembling in anticipation, as if poised at the summit of a mountain. A step to one side would mean death. A step to the other would bring limitless freedom.

  He blew gently into her face, a sign of acceptance. Her heart soared and tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. Driven by a compulsion to touch him, she raised her hand higher. When the beast opened his mouth, revealing two rows of sharp teeth, she felt no fear, only wonder, peace, and light. Her heartbeat slowed and she felt a smile curve her mouth as she spoke softly to him.

  After a brief pause, the chayim answered with a low growl others might have found fearsome. Jeniah continued to extend her hand until it finally touched the long, square muzzle, finding the golden fur softer than she expected. The chayim closed his mouth and uttered a noise much like a purr.

  Acceptance and an all-consuming love flowed into her as the chayim’s mind gently touched hers. Through the images he sent her, she witnessed changes to the land the chayim had seen during his long life. He mentally deepened their connection, wrapping her in warmth and safety and truth.

  For the first time, she saw herself as more than an annoyance, more than a pretty distraction, more than her father’s pawn to forge a political alliance. She saw herself as a young woman of much greater worth. That knowledge filled her with indescribable joy and a renewed dedication to her duty. And it gave her hope.

  Using her powers for others now became paramount, a realization both humbling and liberating.

  Through emotion and image, the chayim assured her that her ability to blur was not a power to fear, but merely a small part of a greater magic that would serve her, and serve her people.

  Without warning, the connection shattered.

  Jeniah staggered back, disoriented and empty from the sudden severance of their bond. Drained of energy, she collapsed. She raised a hand toward the chayim, desperate to renew their mental bond, but she could not reach him. His head turned toward something behind her, his tail swishing angrily. He growled.

  Hoof b
eats approached. As she lay on her back looking up at her chayim, Jeniah’s thoughts cleared, and she swallowed a growl of her own. Apparently her overprotective guards had finished their guarding pattern and returned. She could blur to prevent them from finding her, but if they had already visually marked her, blurring would not deceive them. And at the moment, she wasn’t sure she had the strength.

  Hoping her chayim would remain, she struggled to her feet to warn away the guards. Her weakened limbs failed her again and she crumpled.

  The hoof beats grew nearer still, and an enormous silver duocorn pounded into view with a man astride him. Jeniah’s chayim stood over her defensively and let out a roar that shook the ground. She pressed her hands over her ears. If she hadn’t already bonded with him, she would have been terrified.

  “Get back!” she tried to warn the stranger, but it came out as a weak gasp.

  With a battle cry, the rider and his mount charged down the slope from the highway toward them in the hollow. Though he wore the chain mail of a knight, the rider was clearly not one of her guards.

  Her chayim let out a roar more threatening than the first. He dropped to a crouch facing the intruder, and stood over her, his breath warm and moist on her face, his haunches quivering. Drawing a sword, the stranger charged.

  Jeniah gasped. Not only was the armed rider about to destroy her destined bonding with a chayim, but he planned to battle this magical beast! What brainless madman would attack a holy chayim?

  And where were Breneg and Ciath? They should be alerted to the presence of another rider. Jeniah’s chayim growled again, and her concern shifted to the rider. Her chayim would no doubt kill the foolish man before he could inflict any injury, yet she wished no harm upon any person. Even a fool.

  “Stay away! You’re in danger!” Still weakened by the aborted connection, Jeniah tried to rise but failed again.

  Teeth bared at the intruder, her chayim twitched as he prepared to spring. The rider continued his charge. As her chayim leaped, he extended claws the length of daggers from his paws. The armed man and her chayim came together in a terrible clash.

  Horrified by the violence, Jeniah pushed her shaking limbs to a stand. “NO!” she shouted, finally recovering her voice.

  Her chayim hesitated at the sound of her frantic cry. In that moment of distraction, the warrior attacked. His sword made a graceful arc and sliced into her chayim’s golden chest.

  Jeniah screamed. Dread clutched at her heart, squeezing until she could barely draw a breath.

  “No!” she sobbed. “No, don’t hurt him!”

  Her chayim fell, rolled, and jumped to his feet. Amber blood streamed from the wound. Rearing up on his back two legs, he swiped at his opponent, his claws barely missing the man’s chest. The rider’s duocorn danced back and then lunged, bringing the warrior and his sword in close. Man and chayim lunged, struck and parried.

  Desperate to stop them from killing one another, Jeniah picked up a rock to throw at them, but halted before she let it fly. The last time she’d interfered, she’d distracted her chayim and the man had wounded him. She ground her teeth in frustration at her helplessness.

  Though bleeding from multiple wounds, her chayim raked the duocorn’s flank with his claws. The duocorn whinnied in pain and reared but continued circling the beast. Skillfully avoiding her chayim’s teeth and claws, the man struck again. Weakened, her chayim slowed until he could no longer evade the sword. The warrior thrust his blade deep. The chayim’s shriek filled Jeniah with cold dismay.

  He flailed, howling in pain, his claws missing the duocorn by a breath. The swordsman severed one of her chayim’s massive paws, which only threw the beast into a greater frenzy. Roaring and thrashing, her chayim came at the swordsman. Again, the warrior’s blade found its mark.

  Sickened and shaking, Jeniah sank to her knees.

  This time, the magnificent animal collapsed. His breath labored twice, and after a spasm, he lay motionless. Amber blood flowed in a spreading stain on the leaves carpeting the woodland floor.

  Silence rang out as if all nature’s creatures paused to mourn.

  “No,” Jeniah whispered in disbelief. All strength left her limbs. Darkness drew around her, leaving her desolate and utterly lost. She felt as though she had lived all her life in darkness, then unexpectedly stepped out into the light to behold the beauty of the earth and sky, the majesty of color, the power and magnificence of the sea, only to be plunged back into darkness with naught but a taunting memory of what she had found and lost. All that remained was emptiness.

  The warrior dismounted and approached the lifeless chayim. Jeniah gasped as he prodded the creature with the end of his sword. Then the swordsman turned toward Jeniah and ran to her without stirring a leaf, silent and graceful.

  Through a haze of grief, it occurred to Jeniah that a man who would kill a revered creature might now harm her. At the moment, however, she was so overcome by loss that she hardly cared.

  The warrior dropped to the ground in front of Jeniah. “Are you injured?”

  He spoke in a foreign accent with rich, resonant tones belonging to a minstrel, not a warrior. But his violent act toward her chayim drove away any charm she might have found in his voice.

  Bereft, unable to speak, she shook her head.

  The warrior looked her directly in the eye as if searching for some truth he might only find there. His startlingly blue eyes burned with inner fire. Then, as if he found whatever he’d sought, he stood.

  After he cleaned and put away his weapon, he removed a leather glove and held a hand toward her. “I’ll help you up.”

  She eyed his hand, making no move. Despite his unkempt and unshaven appearance, something in his posture suggested authority. As her eyes traced his broad, muscular form, she realized no knight in the castle could match him in strength or size. While he dressed as a commoner, he had the confident, almost arrogant bearing that Jeniah associated with nobility. A simple cord held together his unadorned, travel-stained cloak instead of a metal clasp used by the wealthy. The breeches and heavily padded tunic visible underneath his chain mail had been cut from coarse fabric. That deadly sword, bane of her chayim, rested in a plain leather scabbard at his hip, almost touching worn boots caked with dirt.

  His eyes fixed upon her with unnerving intensity. For an impoverished knight, this man possessed unabashed boldness. He waited, watching her, his hand extended.

  “You have nothing to fear from me, my lady,” he said softly in his lilting foreign accent.

  Her arm moved on its own volition. Against his large, calloused hand, hers looked small and fragile. He could easily crush her bones. Instead, as if he feared injuring her, he took her hand carefully. After pulling her to her feet, he remained motionless, his fingers closed around hers, his gaze disturbingly direct.

  The stranger reached out with his other hand and gently brushed away a tear lingering on Jeniah’s cheek.

  Shocked at the intimacy of his touch, and at the tingles that spiraled outward from it, she caught her breath. No man in Arden would touch her in such a manner. This man dared much. She snatched her hand back and stepped away to disguise the sudden awareness of her own vulnerability, and her elemental awareness of him as a man.

  “You should not be out here all alone, my lady.”

  As his words penetrated her stunned sorrow, she pressed her lips together. Amazed at the audacity of this killer to censure her, she found her tongue. “Your permission is not required.”

  He blinked, clearly taken aback. His eyes narrowed. “There are many dangers to a lone girl. That beast alone—”

  “I was perfectly safe. Didn’t you see that the chayim had accepted me?” Her eyes were drawn to the terrible sight of her chayim lying lifeless. She choked.

  “Accepted you?”

  “Yes, accepted—a symbiotic lifetime of protection, of friendship.” What oaf did not know the stories? “I’ve felt destined for this all my life.” Anger and sorrow roiled in her stomach.
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  The warrior eyed her as if he thought her a bit insane, and glanced back at the scene of the battle. “Your life was clearly in danger, my lady.”

  Anger cut through her sadness. Only years of exercising forbearance prevented her from shouting at him. “I was in no danger. He saw you as a threat, not only to himself, but to me. He never would have attacked you if you hadn’t charged in brandishing your weapon. Perhaps I should be grateful you didn’t turn that sword upon me in your bloodlust.”

  Her would-be rescuer clenched his jaw and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I would never slay an unarmed opponent, nor would I ever harm a lady. And if I had known—”

  “It would behoove you to make certain of your enemies before you kill them.” Grief and fury competed for dominion over of her heart, and her self-restraint slipped. She dashed aside new tears, frustrated at her loss of control.

  Hishandsfistedathissides.“Itwouldbehooveyoutotakemore caution in the forest. No lady should ever be without protection. And unless you are concealing a weapon, you appear ill-equipped to defend yourself against the many dangers out here.”

  “How typical of a warrior, seeing danger where none exists, and leaping at any opportunity to kill.”

  His words came out clipped. “I do not leap at opportunities to kill.”

  “You did today!” She snapped her mouth closed and wiped her tears.

  “By the moons,” he muttered, looking upward. He raked his fingers through his dark hair, slowly let out his breath, and visibly smothered an angry retort.

  Incredible. A warrior with self-control.

  “If I caused you grief or placed you in danger, I apologize, my lady.” His stiffly spoken words failed to bring her comfort. Then his expression softened, became earnest. “Truly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you or cause undo harm.”

  For some unaccountable reason, she found that she believed him. As her eyes locked with his, she realized that as a foreigner, he probably would not know of a sacred beast unique to Arden. Her tumult faded as a new understanding came over her. He must have happened along by accident, and when he saw her lying on the ground with the large and dangerous-looking animal standing over her, naturally assumed she’d been about to be devoured. Spurred by a sense of chivalry, he’d charged in to slay the beast and rescue the maiden.