PROLOGUE

  King Josiah sat at the bedside of his dying wife. He coughed into a handkerchief, trying to cover the sound. He looked back at Zehava and hoped that his cough wouldn’t wake her. Sleeping was one of the few times she didn’t seem to be in agony. He also didn’t want her to know that he, too, had caught the plague.

  The plague was merciless. It seemed to have no pattern other than it was more fatal in the young and the old. You either got the disease or you didn’t, and if infected, nothing dictated who might live and who might die. A person with many physicians might die or might not, as were those who were alone.

  Though neither had been away from the castle in months, Sara, their eleven-year-old daughter, and Tamar, a chambermaid, were the first in Castle Degal to show any sign of being sick. The court physician isolated both and anyone who had been around them at the first sign, to keep it from spreading. The lords were advised to head back to their baronies and to remain isolated, but it was fruitless. By the time the chambermaid had died, ten days later, most in the castle were sick, and the lords found their lands already ravaged by the plague.

  The physician had told them that by day six, the person would begin getting better or turn towards the worst. The court physician hadn’t given them any hope on the seventh day. The chambermaid was looking a little better, but Sara, it seemed, was not. It was at that moment that Zehava threw caution to the side and decided to comfort her dying child. King Josiah had wanted to join his wife; however, the queen, his chief counselor, the court physician, and even his personal guards refused to let him.

  Later, when the court physician found out that isolating patients wasn’t going to help with this plague, he allowed the king to come in. By that time, Sara had turned for the better, but Queen Zehava showed signs of the sickness, as did a third of everyone in the castle.

  King Josiah had felt the first sign of the plague just two days before, and now he was trying to fight it with whatever the court physician would give him. However, on the first day, he felt the pain in his chest, and King Josiah knew he was going to die. He had trained as a warrior and knew his body. He would fight it, but he would not just sit around and hope everything would be okay.

  When not sitting with his dying wife, he was preparing the kingdom and his daughter to go on without him. He didn’t tell his wife as he didn’t want to add to her burden. She had told him that she was concerned about the possibility of their only living child growing up without a mother, but the king didn’t want his wife to know their daughter would be an orphan. Sara would not just be any orphan, but worse, a royal orphan surrounded by sycophants. The thought of scheming lords trying to manipulate Sara sickened him, but he couldn’t push it away until he looked over and saw the pain-filled eyes of his wife staring at him.

  “Who will watch over Sara?” the queen asked.

  Josiah recognized that again, Zehava already knew the truth. Josiah forced a smile, reached over and took his wife’s hand, and said, “Zehava, my precious, we have raised her well. She knows love and kindness. She has good friends. I have done all I know to do to prepare. We must trust the creator will take care of the rest.”

  Zehava nodded just a little and then whispered, “Tell Sara I love her.”

  “I will go get her and you can tell her yourself,” Josiah said, getting ready to rise, but feeling a tug on his hand, he sat back down.

  A weak smile crossed the disease-ridden face of his wife, and she whispered, “I will see you soon.” Closing her eyes, she spoke no more.

  By the morning, Queen Zehava of Rishona was gone, and King Josiah was lying in the bed his wife had occupied the day before. Sara was sitting beside him. Seven days later, while holding his hand, Sara heard him move. She looked into the face of her father, who had used the last of his strength to turn towards her, and said, “Don’t ever forget that we love you.”

  Before Sara could say anything, he gave a light cough that turned his entire face red. Josiah took his other hand and patted the hand of his daughter that held his and, with a crooked smile, whispered his final words, “Tell him, I won.”

  Five Years Later

  “Are you sure about this?” said David, looking back at his master, who grunted.

  “I know what the plan is, but this is a sixteen-year-old princess, not some kid that no one will miss.” David looked back and saw the determination, shook his head, and walked just outside the cave that served as their home. Once again, his master got an idea into his massive head, and it would be impossible to convince him otherwise.

  A princess was lunacy for them, David thought; his master knew that for David, hiding was the best choice. David looked back into the cave and yelled, “I don’t care who won.”

  Knowing that arguing wasn’t going to change anything, he walked out of the cave and looked into the sky and complained, “Creator, why did I ever agree to be his servant?” There was no answer, but David didn’t expect one, and, in truth, David didn’t want the voice of the creator to speak to him. Besides, he knew the answer.

  David pushed the thoughts of hearing the Creator out of his mind and walked over to check on the two pigs that were rolling around in the pen. “These guys have it made, plenty of food they don’t have to work for, and they can just rest all day,” David said until he looked over at the area of the barn where they were slaughtered. “Okay, maybe not.”

  David’s eyes moved around the little farm. It had everything they needed. Did they really need to do this? Seeing the small servant’s quarters behind the barn, David reminded himself, “Yes, I know I made a vow of servanthood, but kidnapping?” David shook his head and exhaled.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  David looked back at the cave and yelled, “If we are really going to do this, I’m as ready as I’m going to be.” Then he whispered, “I hope you will understand why I had to do this, and I really hope you will forgive me, princess.

  1 THE PRINCESS

  Light flooded the room as Elizabeth threw open the curtains. Princess Sara of Rishona lay in her huge bed and pulled the sheets over her head. Sara couldn’t believe this new maid was ignoring her orders.

  “Come on, Princess Sara,” Elizabeth said. “Mistress Carmarthen will yell at us both if you don’t get up for your classes.”

  She knew that her maid was correct, and the last thing she wanted was another lecture from Mistress Carmarthen. Mistress Carmarthen, however, was one of the few tutors who actually seemed to care about Sara, but that didn’t mean she wanted a lecture.

  “Fine,” Sara huffed and pulled herself to the edge of her bed and stood up. Sara saw Elizabeth’s smiling face walk towards her closet to prepare her outfit for the day. Sara couldn’t believe she could be smiling. Sara wasn’t happy with her maid. First, she had the nerve to pull back the curtains in the morning without permission, and then she was smiling about it.

  Sara looked over and wondered what she should do. Then it came to her, she grabbed her sheets and blanket and dragged them behind her as she walked to her bathing room. She dropped the linens on the floor just before entering her bathing chamber.

  There, Sara thought, she can pick that up too.

  “I want new linens on my bed,” Sara said, thinking that the maid might just throw the linens that were on the floor back on her bed.

  Once Sara finished her morning routine in the bathing room, she stepped out in her underclothes expecting to see another ugly dress waiting for her, the maid’s revenge for having to change the bed linens.

  The last few maids seemed to enjoy doing this to her. The few dresses she liked were always being mended or cleaned. Yet as she looked over at where Elizabeth stood, she was surprised, so much so that for a few seconds she could only stop and stare.

  Elizabeth was holding her favorite dress. The replica of the smaller version her mother had purchased for her just before the sickness came that killed both her and her father.

  “Thank you for pulling the linens off the bed, your majesty,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I needed to change those out today, so you saved me some work. I greatly appreciate it.”

  She stood there, unsure what to say. Sara remembered the voice of her mother expressing gratitude to the staff. Yet every time she did, Lord Lazzaro, her regent, would yell out, “Remember what we are, nobles and nobles are greater than servants. If you show them kindness, they will see it as weakness.” It seemed any time she showed the slightest kindness in word or deed to a servant, most of her teachers, nearby noblemen, or noblewomen would grumble in disgust. She was confused. Instead of saying anything, Sara kept quiet.

  She looked over the dress like it was barely acceptable and then walked over and let Elizabeth help her put it on. She managed to ignore the pleased smile the servant gave her.

  This maid was going to be like Francesca, the evening maid. Francesca had been serving Sara for two weeks and always seemed happy. She was better than Sara’s other evening maid, whom Sara demanded be fired. That maid, also named Sara, was bossy.

  Sara realized she was always getting a new maid. Since her parents died five years earlier, she hadn’t kept a maid for longer than nine months. Either Lord Lazzaro replaced them, or Sara would demand their removal. Perhaps these two might stay for a while, so far, other than being a little too happy, they did good work and liked their jobs.

  Soon, Sara was dressed and prepared to leave her room but paused before opening the door. She paused long enough that Elizabeth noticed and asked, “Do you need something, my lady?”

  Sara wanted to say, “Yes, could you go out first and send my guard away,” but didn’t. Distracting the guard would bring down the anger of Lord Lazzaro on them both.

  Lord Lazzaro paid the man to watch the door. Nearly every morning, Sara would see him sitting in a chair across from the door to her room, leering. If someone was around when she stepped out, he would stand and sometimes even salute, but if there wasn’t, he just watched her like a wolf looking at prey.

  Sara didn’t know his name and didn’t want to know it. She never liked him. He showed up not long after her parents died. When he first showed up, he looked respectable, like nothing more than a shorter-than-average guard. Over the years, his uniform became worn, his grooming lacked, he often smelled of alcohol, and if no one was there, he glared.

  When Sara told Lord Lazzaro that she didn’t like him or the way he looked at her, he chided her for not appreciating the extra security he provided for her out of his own pocket.

  This morning was a little different, but Sara was glad for once he was not watching her from behind as she walked down the hall. When she reached the next intersection, Sara turned right and headed to the library. Looking back, she saw that the man had left, but she knew when she returned in the evening, he would be back.

  Sara considered, not for the first time, telling Mistress Carmarthen, but immediately dismissed the idea. Many of the lords seemed to respect, if not fear, the head of the royal library, but she knew Lord Lazzaro wasn’t one of them. Even if Mistress Carmarthen agreed with her about this guard, she could do nothing about it as Lord Lazzaro was not only a lord, but also her regent, since the death of the one her father chose.

  This meant that all she could do this morning was to see Mistress Carmarthen and begin her lessons for the day. The good thing about starting with the librarian was that her hardest lessons would be done before noon; the downside, as always, was that the rest of the day would be spent with tutors who were more interested in gaining royal favor than in teaching Sara anything.

  There were days that Sara appreciated not having to work hard in her lessons, but over the last two years, those tutors quickly became boring, and she found herself looking forward increasingly to spending time in the library reading.

  The one drawback to being in the library was Mistress Carmarthen. She was the one tutor who always expected Sara to work hard. Sara liked reading and language, but the history lessons Mistress Carmarthen taught required lots of reading that Sara didn’t always like. If Sara were in the library, it was likely that Mistress Carmarthen would give her another book to read for their class. However, when Sara wanted to ask questions about the reading during their lesson time, Mistress Carmarthen would always change the subject. When Sara tried to make a joke, Mistress Carmarthen would just stare at Sara, her face as unmovable as a mountain.

  Sara remembered Mistress Carmarthen talking and laughing with her mother when she was young, but since the death of her parents, Sara hadn’t seen a smile on the woman’s face. Sara wasn’t sure if it was because she missed her friend or if it had to do with the chaperone.