by Suzanna Lynn
The Bed Wife
Book one in the Bed Wife Chronicles
By Suzanna Lynn
Copyright © 2014 Suzanna Lynn
The Bed Wife – The Bed Wife Chronicles
All rights reserved. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without express written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Hollie the Editor
(The following story contains mature themes and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.)
Table of Contents
Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Excerpt
About the Author
Dedication
To everyone who believes that “happily ever after” aren’t just the last three words in a fairy tale.
Chapter One
If one were to travel north through the realm of Wintervale, they would come upon a great castle in the side of Mount Shadowcast where the Kingdom of Grasmere lay.
The immense stone castle had been built high up into the mountainside, overlooking the villages in the valley below. Only a small part of the castle could be seen against the side of the mountain. Against the grey rocky mountainside, one could see a vast wall of smooth rock, with a high tower to one side. In the center of the smooth stone wall was a large intricate iron-worked door; the only way in and out of the castle. The massive mountain itself was peppered with windows, balconies and small towers, showing just how deep within the mountain the fortress delved.
Grasmere, the strongest and largest of the five Kingdoms within Wintervale, was built by the race of the Keld.
The Keld were an ancient bloodline of men. Far stronger than the common man, they could suffer heat and cold, hunger and pain far greater than even the elves and dwarves of the world. They were a strong, proud people who had been blessed with large stature and brute strength. Even the women were known for their fortitude.
No one truly knew how the Keld came to be. Many said they were placed here by the gods to rule over the realm of men. Others rumored that they were no more than ordinary men who had been blessed with strength and long life. Whether or not their path was to rule, they did and they did it well.
For thousands of years, the royal lines of the Keld watched and protected their Kingdoms and the people within.
The Kingdom of Grasmere was presently ruled by King Ashmur. The people of the villages were happy in his rule, as he was a kind and fair sovereign. The people were even more hopeful at the promise of his son, Prince Baylin. For, while King Ashmur was rarely seen by the people of Grasmere, Baylin made it his whole purpose to be out with his subjects and see to their needs. He believed a Kingdom was only as good as its people and he intended to see they were properly provided for.
Baylin enjoyed the days when he was called from the castle to take care of business in the villages. While the castle had become a constant reminder of the overwhelming responsibility of becoming King, spending time with the people, reminded him of the kind of King he wanted to become.
This particularly dry, hot day, Baylin and his guard were returning from a visit to the village of Rivermouth, which was the Kingdom’s only port and main source of fresh water. Though a great battle nearly five hundred years ago had reduced the number of trolls plaguing the lands of Grasmere, they were still a constant threat. Baylin and his men made it a priority to check the conditions in the village several times a week.
As Baylin and his men made their way out of Rivermouth, people of the village stopped and bowed to their future King; their love for him evident on their faces.
The men of Prince Baylin’s guard were dressed as most of the Keld men, boiled leather jerkins and covered in chainmail. They were always ready to defend the Kingdom whenever duty called.
But not Baylin. He was, after all, the future King of Grasmere and was expected to display a certain regal presence when visiting the villages. Instead, he wore a fine indigo tunic highlighted in intricate silver swirling embroidery along the edges, which he wore over a protective vest of fine silver mail. At his waist hung a striking silver belt that featured meticulously carved diamond shapes along the length.
Unlike many of the Keld men who cared little of how their long hair and beards were maintained, Prince Baylin’s long black hair was tidy and fell in slight waves to the middle of his strong back. He also kept his beard very well groomed and trimmed close, giving him the proper appearance of a future King. As a sign of his status, he wore a silver circlet around his head. Though it was simple, the braided design gave him a most regal presence.
As the party traveled down the dry road, their horses’ heavy hooves kicked up large clouds of dust.
“Your Grace,” one of the guards said as he pressed his mount ahead to the right of the Prince.
“Yes?” Baylin replied.
“Could we stop off in Open Shaw for a pint?” the guard asked eagerly. “The dust is choking.”
Open Shaw was the Kingdom’s leading source of livestock and was a little village that sat between the mountain castle and Rivermouth. Baylin had appreciated the quaint homesteads and open fields since he was a child. It was peaceful and held a special place in his heart.
The Prince and his men had finished their duties early that day, and he was confident they had time to head to the pub. Baylin turned in the saddle, checking the time by the position of the sun in the west, when he saw a young woman in a goat field. The Prince slowed his horse to observe her, his men following suit.
She was a rare beauty, with her waist-length silvery-blonde hair swirling in the wind as she ushered the goats back toward the nearby paddock. She wore a soft creamy dress that hugged her slender figure, flattering her form.
As she walked closer, Prince Baylin urged his horse on with a nudge. The steed nickered in response, and the young woman turned quickly at the sound.
When she beheld Prince Baylin and his guard, she quickly dropped her head low in a bow. “Your Grace.”
The Prince rode up to the fence. “Please rise.”
The young woman raised her gaze to Baylin. Her almond-shaped eyes were the fiercest emerald green he had ever witnessed. Her hair and alabaster skin only caused her eyes to bewitch him further. She was truly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Yet, her face held something familiar to him. As though she were from a dream he had long ago.
As he opened his mouth to ask her name, one of his guards’ horses whined loudly, causing the woman’s goats to scatter back out toward the field.
“Oh!” the woman cried, forgetting herself and running after the nearest goat.
The Prince dismounted his horse, jumped the wooden fence and quickly grabbed two small goats in his large muscular arms.
“Oh, your Grace, you mustn’t!” the woman cried.
Baylin walked over to the woman, carrying the two goats. As he approached, he towered at least
a foot taller than her.
The woman realized she misspoke. “My apologies my Prince, I only meant you need not bother yourself.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he replied, setting down the two kids.
“Oh no, your Grace, it is nothing. I assure you,” she spoke, already ushering the goats back into place.
“As you wish, my lady,” Baylin replied, tilting his head in a slight bow.
The gesture caused the young woman to blush slightly. She again bowed and murmured, “Your Grace,” before returning to her work.
Baylin gazed at the woman for a moment as his mind flashed to a time many years ago.
He had been only ten years old playing in the trees on the edge of the forest just outside of Open Shaw. He climbed high into an ancient oak, digging the toes of his boots into the hard crevasses between the ridges of bark. As he climbed, he caught a glimpse of a shimmery movement in a nearby field from the corner of his eye. As he craned his neck for a better look, he spied a little girl with long silver-blonde hair walking through a field with a goat at her side. He watched her intently for several minutes, as he had never seen hair that color. His mother and all the other women in the castle had black hair, like his.
The little girl walked very near the edge of the forest as she hummed a song faintly to herself. The young Prince tried to lower himself quietly to the ground but lost his footing on the brittle bark and began to slide as he reached out trying to grasp branches to catch him.
When he hit the ground with a dull thud, the little girl jumped and turned toward him with a gasp.
“Boy,” she called out. “Boy, are you okay?”
She ran over to him, kneeling down beside him. “Oh, you’re hurt!”
Baylin fought to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. The arm of his tunic had been completely ripped open and dark blood oozed from a large gash on his elbow.
As the memory faded, Baylin ran a hand over the large scar that he bore on his elbow. Could it truly be her?
Baylin’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the woman’s voice. “Your Grace? Is everything okay?”
Baylin nodded to the woman respectfully. He turned and mounted his large horse, leading his men into Open Shaw.
*****
An hour later, while drinking with his men at the tavern in Open Shaw, Baylin caught a glimpse of the young woman from the field. She had slipped into the boisterous room almost unnoticed and quickly strode over to a table in the back, just out of sight.
Baylin thought again of the little girl in the field.
She was about his age at the time, maybe slightly younger. When she saw his elbow she didn’t cry or scream like most little girls. Instead, she took a piece of fabric from her pocket and held it to the wound.
“Hold this here,” she instructed. “I will fetch my father.”
The little girl took off barefoot through the field, with her long silver hair flowing behind her. She returned, as promised, with a weathered-looking older man who was introduced as her father.
The old man gently lifted the young boy into his arms. “We will take care of you, my Prince.”
“My Prince?” the little girl asked as she held on to the shirttail of her father. “Papa, why do you call him your Prince?”
“He is the King’s son, my dear. He will be the King himself someday,” the old man explained. “Now come along, L…”
The memory washed-out as Baylin thought hard. What was her name? He should know this; he knew it clearly as a boy.
Baylin’s curiosity about the woman grew. He rose and walked to where he could see her and the barkeep hoisting an old drunk man to his feet.
The room was alive with laughter and discussion, so no one seemed to notice as the woman held up the man and quickly exited with him in tow.
The chubby bald barkeep was cleaning up the mug covered table when Baylin approached him. “Please excuse me. Who was that?”
The barkeep turned and expressed a look of utter surprise as he laid eyes on Baylin. “Milord Prince Baylin,” he stammered as he attempted an awkward bow.
The Prince held up a hand. “There is no need of that, thank you. Now who was that who just left?”
The portly barkeep wiped his sweaty brow with a rag from his back pocket. “Well, milord Prince, the ol’ man ye saw was Hal-john. He owns a goat farm out on the edge o’ Open Shaw. `Course he spends most o’ his time in the bottom o’ an ale `stead of in the field. That poor family would be nothing if not for Luana.”
“Luana,” Baylin repeated.
“Yes, Your Grace, poor Luana. She spends her days in the field then drags her father home most nights,” the barkeep said with pity in his voice. “It’s a shame to see such a beauty wasted in the fields like that, but suppose that’s what happens with a drunk for a father.”
Baylin thanked the barkeep and returned to sit with his men.
Luana. He thought to himself. I remember you.
Chapter Two
The young maiden Luana was known throughout Open Shaw, not only for her rare beauty but her strong will and loving heart. She alone had become the sole provider for her family after her father had taken spending his time drinking life away at the pub.
Truth be told, Luana didn’t mind the fields as much as the life within her home. She loved the quiet solitude the outdoors offered and would often spend her days lying under the warm sun and read of far-off lands, brave warriors and powerful loves.
The day the Prince had assisted her in the field had been like one of her books come to life. She often saw Baylin and his men traveling by on their way to Rivermouth. She admired him from afar, but never dared to dream he would stop to speak to her.
A few weeks after her encounter with the Prince, Luana had fallen asleep in the tall grass while attending to the goats in the field. She dreamt of a little boy she used to play with in the fields and trees.
Her dream took place after the little boy had fallen from a tree in her family’s back field. She had run to get her father, and he carried the little boy back to their tiny homestead.
She could remember her father telling her the boy was going to be King someday. At only eight years old, Luana still didn’t understand how being King worked. She just knew the King and Queen were always supposed to be respected and bowed to and they lived in the big castle within the mountain.
As her father worked to bandage the boy’s arm, Luana set to work distracting him. “I’m Luana. What’s your name?”
“Baylin,” the boy said through gritted teeth.
“Why did you fall out of that tree?” Luana asked, playing with a piece of bandage between her fingers.
The little boy named Baylin grimaced in pain as her father tightened a bandage around the arm. “That’s a stupid question!”
Luana turned her nose up in defiance at the little Prince. “Well, I’m not so stupid that I fall out of trees!”
“Luana!” her father scolded. “You do not speak to your Prince in that manner.”
Luana glared at the little boy. She didn’t understand why she needed to treat him any different than the other boys of the village. He wasn’t King yet.
Her father knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder lovingly. “Luana, I am going to get word to the castle that the Prince is injured. You stay with him, my dear, until I return.”
Luana watched her father leave through the front door. She didn’t want to stay with this mean little boy. As she was about the leave the room, the boy let out a whimper of pain. She reached out and took his hand. “It will be okay. Papa will get your mother and father.”
The little boy looked at her with sadness in his clear blue eyes.
Luana woke with a start at the sound of a deep, malicious growl. She quickly scrambled to her feet and saw a large black wolf sneaking up on a mother goat and her two kids. Oh gods, no!
With only a small knife to defend her, she screamed out as she ran at the wolf, trying to scare it off. “Go! Get away!”
She picked up a rock and threw it at the vicious beast. However, the creature was very hungry and a young woman was as good a meal as a few goats. The wolf turned on her, letting a growl from deep inside rumble out as it stalked her from side to side.
Terror boiled up as Luana realized the gravity of the situation. I’m going to die. Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought. There will be nothing left of me to mourn.
The thought of her family standing over an empty grave fueled her rage even as panic was trying to take over. “Not today.”
The ravenous wolf lunged at Luana, knocking her to the ground as she stabbed the knife into the flesh of its neck. The wolf circled around, even more angry and ready to attack. As it charged toward Luana, she screamed out in horror and reached out in a final attempt to defend herself. As the wolf leaped, an arrow cut through the air and pierced the wolf straight through its right eye, killing it instantly.
Luana stared at the lifeless body of the wolf, attempting to grasp what had just happened. She heard something running behind her, and she jumped as looked up to see Prince Baylin with a bow in his hand, racing through the field toward her.
He knelt beside her. “Are you injured, my lady?”
Luana was still trying to grasp what had happened, but she gave the Prince a slight nod.
Baylin took Luana’s hands within his own. “Let me help you.”
She quickly rose to her feet, dizzy from the encounter. “My Prince Baylin, thank you, my Lord.”
Luana lifted her eyes to meet his. He was far more handsome than she had realized. The thought made her blush and look away.
Baylin reached out, tilting the woman’s chin so as to bring her eyes to his. “Are you sure you are all right my lady?”
The touch of his rough hands against her face caused chills to run through Luana, even though the day was very warm. His piercing blue eyes seemed to mesmerize her, and it took everything inside her to reply. “Yes, my Lord, thank you.”