• Preface


    Laeta gasped as she felt the cold steel entering her stomach. She looked into the cold, unfeeling eyes of the person who she thought once to be her best friend, her confidant. The breath rushed out of her as he removed the dagger and plunged it into her body once more, this time in her chest, barely missing her heart. She watched as he removed the bloodstained weapon and wiped it clean. Slowly, the strength left her and she dropped to her knees, holding her wounds in a fruitless attempt to stifle the bleeding. As her body gave out, Laeta collapsed to the forest floor, staring up at the canopy above as the only sound that filled her ears was the rushing water nearby. The last thing she saw before drifting into the blackness that was threatening to envelop her was his sneering face, and she knew she was going to die never knowing the reason why.

    Chapter 1


    Two years ago…

    The pounding of her horse’s feet underneath her was the only sound Laeta could hear, and all that she cared to concentrate on. For hours, the monks had droned on and on about economics and politics and diplomacy. It was maddening! Besides, she was sixteen. She should be enjoying herself, planning for her upcoming seventeenth birthday party. Not being stuck inside for hours on end, listening to subjects she could care less about. Her father, who happened to be the king of Anabaena, was a relatively young man and she was confident that she would not have to take her place as queen for at least a decade…if she chose to at all, for that matter.
    Laeta began to hear the roar of Morgan Falls signaling the approach to her favorite place. She slowed her horse as the trees of the forest began to clear a bit. Finally she began to take stock in her surroundings. Trees, older than the kingdom itself, towered above her, while tiny saplings stretched toward the sky, yearning for a touch of sunlight. Generations of trees, old and new, lived together in a perfect harmony that only few could appreciate.
    Dismounting from the saddle, Laeta smiled as she felt the ferns tickling around her ankles. As she led her solid black horse towards the water, she kicked off her shoes and picked them up, letting her feet trail across the soft emerald grass. She draped Chance’s reins over the saddle, letting him go to the pool of water for a drink.
    As Chance watered, Laeta took her water skin and a small snack of an apple and some bread that she had packed in her saddle bag and took them to a broad, smooth rock, bathed in sunlight. Far enough to remain dry, yet close enough to the falls to feel the cool mist land on her skin when the wind was right, it was, to her, the most desirable spot in the entire area. She lay on the rock and closed her eyes, letting the sunlight completely drench her. It seemed like an eternity that she remained there, still as stone, until she heard the snap of a twig in the distance, bringing her back to reality.
    Reluctantly, Laeta sat up, her wavy chestnut hair falling around her face in gentle curls. “Great…it seems as though the Guard has caught up with me,” she grumbled to herself.
    “No, I’m afraid not, my dear,” came a deep voice from behind her.
    Immediately, Laeta’s heart dropped. Though she did not recognize the voice, she could hear the frigidness and the malice within. Slowly, she turned her head and her eyes fell on a man, at least a foot taller than she, his face weathered. It was easily seen that he was impoverished by his unkempt and highly unclean appearance, yet he held a shiny dagger towards her that appeared as though it were fresh from a smith, and therefore, that meant he was working for someone. The question was, who?
    The man took a step towards her, tightening his grip on the dagger. “Now, milady, I suggest that you come with me without a fight, or I might just have to scar that pretty little face of yours,” he sneered.
    Shaking, Laeta slowly got to her feet, never taking her eyes off the man for a moment. Her face was filled with fright as she moved her hands behind her, gripping the fabric of her silken dress. “I- I’m afraid,” she stammered. The fear drained from her face and a smirk appeared. “I’m afraid I won’t be going quietly.”