Stolen Princess: A Kilenya Chronicles Story

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Stolen Princess

  About the Author

  Stolen Princess

  A Kilenya Chronicles Story

  Andrea Pearson

  Copyright © 2017 Andrea Pearson

  Book design and layout copyright © 2017 Andrea Pearson

  Cover copyright © 2017 Andrea Pearson, Shutterstock

  Series by Andrea Pearson:

  Kilenya Chronicles

  Kilenya Stories

  Mosaic Chronicles

  Koven Chronicles

  Ranch City Academy

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  http://andreapearsonbooks.com/

  Stolen Princess

  Prince Dmitri pulled his sweat-lathered horse to a stop in the middle of the dusty road. He squinted in the hot August sunlight, glaring past the city in front of him to the looming Castle of Gevkan. The hunger he’d felt earlier now forgotten, he wrinkled his brow and pushed a strand of shoulder-length dark hair out of his eyes. Something felt different. Off. No, it was more than that. Something was wrong, and the sick feeling in the hollow of his stomach confirmed it.

  Kelson, his best friend, paused next to him, only looking at him briefly before facing the castle.

  “The men are coming?” Dmitri asked, referring to the group he and Kelson had been traveling with for several days.

  “Yes—you left in quite a hurry.”

  King Roylance had sent Dmitri, his son-in-law, on a diplomatic mission to a southern kingdom, where he and Kelson had negotiated the release of several Gevkan prisoners. The mission was a success, and Dmitri had been excited when it hadn’t taken nearly as long as expected. He and the others had started home two days ago, eager to see their families again.

  Dmitri hesitated, urging his horse forward. He cleared his throat. “I felt . . . I don’t know. Things aren’t right.”

  “I sense it too,” Kelson said.

  Their eyes met, and Dmitri saw the worry he felt reflected on Kelson’s face. They spurred their horses onward, racing toward the castle. Dmitri’s heart pounded, increasing his nausea as he leaned over, wishing he was already there to protect his wife, the princess.

  Dust billowed up behind them until moments later when the hooves hit the cobblestoned streets of Maivoryl City. People wailed on either side, some with their hands in the air, others clutching their chests. They called to Prince Dmitri, begging for assistance.

  Dmitri was only able to catch a few words here and there, but he heard enough repetitions of “Princess Arien” to know that his instincts about his wife hadn’t been off.

  The road took them out of the city and through the thick forest that surrounded the entire castle. Dmitri didn’t hesitate as he raced around corners, ducking under overhanging tree branches, barely avoiding being whipped by the long stems.

  Finally, the trees cleared, and the magnificent castle where Dmitri had lived for the past several years towered above. Nothing looked out of place—the stained-glass windows sparkled in the sunlight, and the statues in the gardens had been untouched.

  This didn’t reassure Dmitri. He raced under the arch and pulled up next to the tall main doors, Kelson alongside him. They jumped off their horses as guards rushed out of the castle. A woman’s cry sounded through the open door.

  “What happened?” Dmitri asked the head guard.

  “The castle was attacked, and—”

  “What? By whom? And when?”

  “An hour ago, followed by a shorter one moments before you arrived. We don’t know who was behind them.”

  Dmitri turned to Kelson and saw the same confusion there—Kelson shook his head, his blond hair moving around his shoulders. Gevkan had no major enemies. Unless . . .

  “That’s not all, Highness. The princess is gone.”

  Dmitri’s heart stopped beating—he felt the blood drain from his face. “No,” he whispered, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t possible. He handed the reins to the nearest servant.

  “I’ll take care of the horses,” Kelson said.

  “Kelson, I need you with me.” Dmitri tried to keep the worry from his voice for the guards’ sakes, knowing that Kelson would definitely sense it. They’d been best friends since childhood.

  The guard had to be wrong. Dmitri would find Arien safe in her room.

  Kelson nodded. Together, they dashed into the castle, skidding to a stop almost immediately. The calmness of the exterior had hidden the chaos of the interior. It was a disaster. Tapestries shredded. Paper strewn about. Furniture destroyed, and feathers falling through the air. The large hall clock had been smashed, parts of it littered across the floor.

  “This just barely happened,” Kelson said.

  Cold sweat flooded down Dmitri’s back and chest as it occurred to him that the guard could be right—the princess really was gone. “Arien?” he called, barely daring to think about what might have happened. “Arien!” He’d known when he deserted his father to marry her that he’d made an enemy. But how deep did that hatred go?

  He stopped a washerwoman as she ran past.

  “Where is the princess?”

  The woman only shook her head in fright, and Dmitri released her. He and Kelson ran up several flights of stairs to the quarters Dmitri shared with his wife.

  They burst into the room. Nothing had been touched—the place was perfect.

  But there was no princess.

  Kelson grabbed Dmitri’s shoulders. “Her handmaidens? I haven’t seen any!” His freckled face ashen, he gasped out one word, “Midian,” then dashed from the room.

  Dmitri also left, but instead of following Kelson, he ran to the throne room. He slumped in relief when he saw the king there.

  At the sound of Dmitri’s entrance, King Roylance looked up, his weathered and lined face wet from crying. Dmitri crossed the throne room in a few steps as Roylance wobbled out of the chair, legs barely holding him, and hung from his son-in-law’s shirt. “My girl. My girl is gone! You must find her!”

  The room could have been crashing down around them and Dmitri wouldn’t have noticed. His ears rang, his legs started shaking, his hands going numb. No, no—Arien couldn’t be gone! She couldn’t! Oh, his beautiful, precious wife . . .

  Dmitri’s eyes roved the room, trying to find something solid to hold to, desperate for anything that made sense, anything to take away the last few hours, to make things right again.

  Then they fell on the king who stared at him with complete despair etched on his face.

  At that moment, Dmitri realized that one of them needed to be in control of his emotions. The king was already in a weakened state—it wouldn’t be him who stepped up just yet. Dmitri took a deep, shuddering breath, pushing his panic aside.

  “I will,” he said, responding to King Roylance’s request. He steadied the elderly man, helping him back onto the throne, hoping the man wouldn’t notice how his h
ands shook. “What happened?”

  “We were attacked. Didn’t see it coming—peace, for so many years.”

  “Was my father behind it?”

  Roylance shook his head, dragging his hands down his face. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

  Dmitri squeezed the king’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I promise, we’ll find her.” He bit his lip, watching the king, who, along with the queen, had been so ill the past several months. Having their daughter missing would definitely prolong their recovery.

  Dmitri stepped away, clasping his hands behind his back. “What has been done so far?”

  “The guards are on high patrol. Servants are finding all who are injured, and are counting the dead and missing. We’ve sent scouts to follow the kidnappers, but have heard nothing. And Minyas are returning, reporting that the neighboring kingdoms are denying responsibility.”

  Dmitri snorted. Of course they were.

  Just then, the door opened, and Aldo, one of the king’s advisors, motioned for Dmitri to join him outside the room. Dmitri excused himself, wondering what the older man could have to say that the king shouldn’t also hear. His mouth went dry.

  Aldo gently closed the door. “The king is gravely shaken by this, but he’ll be fine. He’ll watch over the castle. Dmitri, you must focus on finding Arien.”

  Dmitri nodded.

  “It isn’t just she who is missing—all her handmaidens are as well. Ezra and I are positive that her captors will demand ransom.”

  Dmitri’s thoughts rushed to Kelson. His wife, Midian, was one of Arien’s handmaidens. “Where is Ezra?”

  “He’s gone to our mother’s cabin. We keep books, histories, and documents there. We have a few ideas, but aren’t sure right now who it could be or why. More research is necessary.”

  Dmitri shook his head in frustration. “Research? At a time like this? Why can’t we just follow the captors? The scouts of this kingdom are the best.”

  Aldo nodded. “Yes, we’ve sent scouts. But we haven’t heard from them, even though it’s been an hour since the initial attack.”

  Dmitri slumped against the wall. Back in his father’s kingdom, it wasn’t unusual not to hear from someone for that long. But here, in Gevkan, they had Minyas—little creatures who delivered messages very quickly. If the scouts hadn’t been heard from for that long, it was probably because they were dead or being held captive. There was always a reason.

  Aldo put his hand on Dmitri’s shoulder. “Son, we won’t be able to follow these captors as easily as we might have. This was a very well-planned attack. You and Kelson were gone, not expected to return for several more days. The king and queen are sick, and Arien is pregnant. Ezra and I were in Maivoryl City, investigating another problem, and the attackers knew all this.”

  Aldo’s gray eyes peered at Dmitri with concern, the sides of his frizzy white hair in its usual puff around his balding head. He squeezed Dmitri’s shoulder before dropping his hand. “Things will be fine—in the long run. I feel it. But I’m afraid our suffering won’t be over for a while.”

  Dmitri slumped. Aldo and his twin brother, Ezra, had proven themselves to be intelligent and insightful—never far from the mark with their intuition. Dmitri blinked back tears that formed in his eyes.

  Arien—oh, Arien. Eight months’ pregnant with their first child—a child which had taken years to conceive. And she’d already struggled so much during this pregnancy, unable to leave her bed most days, very sick every day.

  “What is to be done? What can I do?”

  “Give us two hours, then meet us at our mother’s cottage.”

  Outwardly, Dmitri agreed, but inwardly, his heart chaffed at waiting two hours.

  When the time had nearly passed, a servant saddled Dmitri’s horse, and he galloped to the cabin. It was tucked in the forest away from the road between the castle and Maivoryl City.

  As he pulled in closer, he knew right away something was wrong. The outside was fine, but a feeling in the air spoke of recent violence.

  Warily, he dropped to the ground and tethered his horse to a tree near the porch. A rolling feeling in the pit of his stomach hit him. Senses heightened, he listened for the sound of intruders.

  Cautiously, quietly, he pulled his sword and edged toward the cabin. He stepped onto the wooden porch and cringed when the boards creaked.

  Dmitri paused. Nothing happened.

  Pushing the door open with his sword, he walked closer to the threshold. Waited again. Then peered into the cabin.

  The place had been ransacked. Walls torn down, with wallpaper everywhere. Furniture mutilated. Floorboards ripped up.

  It appeared to be empty.

  “Hello?”

  No answer. He took a step inside and noticed a pool of blood near a pile of fallen wallpaper. Jumping to it, he lifted the paper and gasped. Ezra was underneath—eyes staring forward, mouth hanging open, blood trickling at the corner.

  Was he dead? This had barely happened. The blood was fresh.

  Dmitri grabbed the man’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. How would Arien take this? Arien . . . Dmitri pushed the strong feelings aside, noticing a crumpled-up piece of paper in the elderly man’s hand and pulling it free.

  A sudden noise behind him made him whirl—a dark shadow crossed in front of the cabin.

  Dmitri lifted his sword. “Who’s there?” He advanced toward the door. “Show yourself!”

  He sprang onto the porch. The surrounding forest and road were empty. He circled the entire cabin, following a shadow, but saw nothing concrete. What was going on?

  His horse looked thoroughly spooked, though, and Dmitri knew he’d not been mistaken. Something or someone had been out there. And where was Aldo? Dmitri briefly looked through the cabin, ensuring it was indeed empty, then pulled himself into the saddle, finally remembering the note still clutched in his hand. It was written in Ezra’s script.

  Lorkon behind attack?

  Motive? Pregnant?

  Fury of the elements.

  Dmitri frowned. What was a Lorkon? And what did Arien’s pregnancy have to do with anything? He needed King Roylance’s opinion.

  Needing to report Ezra’s death, he turned the horse around and galloped back to the castle, watching over his shoulder for anyone following.

  ***

  “‘Fury of the elements’ could be anything, really,” King Roylance said, holding Ezra’s note as Dmitri paced in front of him. The king had calmed down when presented with a puzzle, and Dmitri didn’t blame him. It gave them something to work over. He looked up at Dmitri, rubbing his chin. “And I think I’ve heard the word ‘Lorkon’ before, but I’m not sure where.”

  Dmitri stopped pacing for a moment. “Why would Arien’s pregnancy have anything to do with it?”

  King Roylance shook his head. “I worry it’s because her kidnappers understand how important my daughter and her unborn child are to you. They’ve exploited your love and the trials the two of you went through to have a baby.”

  Dmitri slumped on the steps near the throne, putting his face in his hands. “If anything happens . . . Roylance, I don’t know what to think.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “And I really need to go back to the cabin—search it more thoroughly.”

  Roylance nodded. “Yes. That would be wise.” He snapped his fingers, and a servant approached. “Please tell the group retrieving Ezra’s body not to disturb anything in the cabin.”

  The man nodded, then rushed from the room, and the king turned to Dmitri.

  “Yes, return to the cabin. Conduct a more in-depth search.”

  Dmitri nodded. He realized he hadn’t eaten in many hours, so he took a break to do that while waiting for his horse to be readied. After finishing, he pulled his journal out and completed an entry from earlier, knowing the writing would help him clear his mind and keep his emotions under control. He wondered where Kelson had gone—he could really use his best friend’s help right then.

  It only took a coupl
e of minutes for Dmitri to arrive on horseback at the cabin. The men were just leaving, carrying Ezra’s stiff body.

  Waves of sadness threatened to engulf Dmitri at the sight of the elderly man, but again, he pushed them aside. There would be time for mourning later. He jumped from his horse and strode to the door of the cabin, only hesitating a moment before entering.

  The chaos greeted him almost cheerfully. Sunshine flooded through the front room’s two windows, and now that the dust had settled, the familiar smells of the twins’ mother were again on the air. Spiced apple and pumpkin—her specialties, before she’d passed away half a year ago.

  Dmitri started in the front room, not sure what he would find, if anything. But he was surprised when right away, he discovered a letter addressed to him. It had been placed on top of an overturned table near the main door. Dmitri frowned. It hadn’t been there earlier. He quickly read the note—it was written by Aldo. He must have come and gone during the time Dmitri hadn’t been there. How had he taken the news of his brother’s death?

  The note was short, instructing Dmitri to go to the nearest Kaith tree for further instructions.

  Dmitri did so, tethering his horse to a post across the way from the gnarled, leafless tree.

  He strode forward, pausing when an unseen force stopped him. He was nearly blinded when a bright light flashed from the tree. He waited patiently as the light flooded over him, giving the magic of the tree an opportunity to verify his identity. Only he would be able to access whatever it was that Aldo had left.

  The light dissipated, and the force that stopped him lifted, allowing him to walk forward. He remembered how foreign the idea of using a tree to secure valuables or messages had been when he’d first arrived in Gevkan several years earlier. His father, king of Troosinal, hadn’t permitted such things.

  There was a hole in the tree trunk, about chest high. Dmitri put his hand into this hole and felt around, his fingers closing on a piece of paper.

  It was a full-page letter from Aldo. Dmitri scanned through it for the important information.