The Kingdom Chronicles Box Set 1

by Camille Peters

  I bent down to sweep a kiss across her cheek. “I’m sorry, Mother. I lost track of time. I hate the thought I worried you.”

  She smiled her forgiveness as she cupped my chin. “I know it’s silly for me to worry. Just because you’re late doesn’t mean you’ll never return…”

  I instinctively stiffened as memories I’d fought to suppress invaded my mind. Ten years had passed, feeling at times like only a few months and at others like a thousand lifetimes. Cheerful, fun-loving, adventurous Father had told us he was traveling through the Forest to the capital to make some trades. He’d promised to return in a fortnight. Only he never had. Search parties yielded no information about what might have happened to him.

  First days passed, then weeks, then months, and eventually years. My childhood self hadn’t fully understood what had happened. How could my dear father have vanished, despite his assurances he’d return to us? I’d spent endless days waiting for him on the front step until winter arrived, forcing me indoors, where I spent countless hours pressing my face against the front window, waiting and hoping for an arrival that never came.

  Mother changed after that, her cheerfulness gone, replaced by grief and heartache. She often clutched Father’s portrait against her heart and sobbed. As I watched her, quenching my own tears, the realization slowly settled over me:

  Mother loved Father. Fiercely. He’d seemed to have loved her, too, but that obviously hadn’t been enough to satisfy his restless spirit and prevent him from coming home to us. Now Mother was left with nothing but a broken heart.

  Without Father we had no livelihood, but despite the long, harsh years that followed, we managed to get by. Mother wove, I gathered berries to make jam, and we took in laundry. Many villagers helped, but nothing could fill the void Father’s absence had created. The worst part about his abandonment was that to this day we still had no idea why he’d left.

  Perhaps I’d done something wrong.

  Mother’s smile—for she always managed to have one for me—softened into a concerned frown puckering her brow. “Are you alright, dear?”

  I shook my head to clear it from the painful swirl of memories and forced my own smile. “I’m fine.” It was my most frequent lie. I turned around and carried the basket of fruit to the table. “Before I help with the laundry, shall I mash these to make jam?”

  “Eileen?”

  I heard Mother approach but didn’t turn around. I couldn’t risk her seeing the tears that had come uninvited to my eyes, tears I’d told myself years ago never to shed. Crying would create cracks in my protective walls and allow me to reexperience the emotions I no longer wanted to feel. It was less painful this way.

  “Perhaps we can bake the berries into a pie,” I continued, still not turning around. “We can bake two and trade one for some supplies—”

  Mother rested a light hand on my back. I flinched at her touch. “I miss him, too.”

  I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted blood, hoping the pain would stave off the tears now flowing down my cheeks. “I don’t miss him.” My voice cracked, betraying my second-most-frequently-told lie.

  “Something must have happened to him. He’d never just leave us.”

  I desperately wanted to believe her. “But he did leave us.”

  Mother was silent a moment, a silence filled with her own pain. Remorse filled me at being the cause of it, but even after all this time, my emotions were still too raw and too close to the surface for me to always successfully suppress them.

  “He loved us,” Mother finally murmured.

  I snorted. Love. I hated that word. If Father leaving was what love was, then I wanted no part of it. No matter how beautiful Rosie’s stories about romance were, they were all make-believe. Thus, I’d never give another man the opportunity to hurt me the way Father had.

  The day I’d first discovered Mother crying over Father, I’d chosen to lock my heart away forever. Whether Father had left on purpose or something had happened to him, love wasn’t worth the pain it inflicted, especially not when the fickle emotion was too fleeting to ever last.

  Chapter 2

  The Forest practically pushed me down an unfolding path thick with foliage the moment I stepped inside. I looked curiously at the trees but didn’t question them. The winding trail made many jagged twists and turns, each change deliberate and purposeful; it was unlike the Forest to be so selective in its guidance.

  I’d never questioned the Forest before, but I paused now in order to peer inquisitively at a rosemary pine. “Where are you taking me?”

  The branches rustled but otherwise made no reply.

  I nibbled my lip as I peered down this path as far as I could see. It was thick and overgrown, as if it were part of the Forest itself rather than a trail weaving through it. With the shadowy light and its twists and turns, it was impossible to see where it led, but I trusted the Forest; it had never led me astray.

  I continued down the path, picking my way through the vegetation. The trees grew in closely intertwined clumps and the minty air felt different, heavy with mystery and discoveries just waiting to be made. I was probably the first to walk this course in years.

  After several minutes, the path widened into a large clearing, which the trees surrounded like a halo. I tipped my head back to stare up at the artistic pattern the canopy of branches formed above me. Lovely, to be sure, but almost disappointing after such a strenuous journey. I studied the clearing more closely, searching for something to justify the Forest’s insistence on leading me here.

  The hemlock trees grew in an unusual pattern: the way the branches twisted made them resemble a person. Inspiration tickled my senses as the beginnings of a story formed in my mind, one I needed to capture with my pencils.

  The story Rosie and I had been reading was the legend of a princess who, abandoned in the woods, grew up within the trees and became a ruler amongst all who lived in the Forest. Upon her death, her spirit became part of the Forest, giving it both life and a mind of its own.

  Today’s project would be an imaginative portrait of this Forest princess. After silently admiring my most recent treasured sketches, I opened to a fresh page in my sketchbook and studied the hemlocks’ branches. My hand caressed the page as I reproduced this legend with fluid strokes…

  A twig snapped, piercing my sketching revery. I gasped and twisted around. The shadowy trees were completely still, their dark, budding limbs stretching endlessly towards the sky. Heart pounding, I slowly scanned the entire clearing. Empty.

  No one was here. I released my pent-up breath and returned to my sketch, but my white-knuckled hand remained frozen, hovering over the page. Something—or someone—had to have made that noise.

  I held my breath and listened intently. The Forest’s previous symphony of twittering birds had ceased, leaving nothing but thick, tense silence. It was unlike the Forest to be so quiet.

  The back of my neck prickled and I felt as if a heated gaze bore into me to scrutinize my every move. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see a mysterious intruder watching from the trees. No one was there.

  Some of the darker tales of the Forest the villagers often exchanged in warning whispers invaded my mind: There are tales of many who lost their way amidst the trees after the Forest’s paths led them astray, for they say the blood of its victims is what gives it life.

  I’d never believed those stories; my Forest was anything but sinister. I’d explored it for years and had never encountered another living soul, let alone a dangerous one. Thus the pathways wouldn’t have led me to this clearing if the Forest sensed any danger…would it? Whatever I thought I’d heard was merely my mind playing mischievous tricks. No one was here except for me and the trees…trees which were being uncannily quiet, as if they’d fallen into a deep slumber.

  My assurances did little to calm me. I fought for breath—each sharp and painful in my fear—and hunched back over my sketchbook to focus on drawing the tree’s budding leaves in a way that made t
hem resemble the princess’s tresses, desperate for a distraction. But my hand remained frozen over the page.

  The Forest had been unusually particular today about which pathways it led me down. Was there a purpose to its guidance?

  Another twig snapped. I straightened rapidly, my heart hammering as I listened intently, trembling.

  “Is someone else here, Forest?” I whispered. The trees remained completely still. My fear escalated as the sensation I was being watched intensified.

  I shivered. Imagination or not, I couldn’t stay here a moment longer. I snapped my sketchbook shut and scampered towards the edge of the clearing. The moment I moved, footsteps—their sound nearly lost to the deafening pounding of my heart—sounded behind me.

  I froze and listened; they paused when I did. I crept a few steps more, and so did the intruder. No mistake about it: I wasn’t alone. I clutched my sketchbook like a protective shield as I wound my body behind a trunk and huddled there, trying to control my frantic pants of breath.

  Silence.

  I listened to every sound of the Forest as I waited, trying to detect a human heartbeat within the trees. All seemed quiet, but I sensed something; the Forest felt different, on edge, as if it could sense an intruder, too.

  I remained hidden for several minutes before I slowly released my pent-up breath. Huddling here wasn’t leading me any closer to the Forest’s border, which was where I now desperately wanted to be. I slowly stepped away from the tree and gasped sharply, my sketchbook slipping from my hand.

  A man stood in front of me, blocking my path.

  My heart skittered to a stop. So there had been someone following me—a stranger dressed in red velvet trimmed with gold, an outfit which clearly showcased his noble rank. He leaned leisurely against an aspen, staring at me with large, ebony eyes, which widened when he saw my face.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke as we warily surveyed the other. A foreign, pleasant warmth loosened the fear tightening my chest as I studied the stranger’s face, my gaze lingering on the chestnut curl dangling across his forehead.

  He stirred first, blinking rapidly, before his expression hardened. “What are you doing in my Forest?”

  My skin prickled at the coldness in his voice and panic scrambled my thoughts, save for one: I’m alone with a strange man in the Forest. This couldn’t possibly end well.

  “I—” I couldn’t speak; my voice had been swallowed up by the fear pounding through my bloodstream with every frantic beat of my heart.

  The stranger straightened and slowly approached. I hastily backed into a tree and pressed myself against the trunk until its bark embedded into my back.

  His approach faltered and his brow furrowed as he eyed my tension. “Am I frightening you? I assure you that’s not my intention.”

  “Intention or not, I’m frightened all the same.”

  He advanced another step closer. “You must forgive me then. You startled me; this is the first time I’ve ever encountered anyone in my Forest. Who are you?” His jaw tightened when I remained silent. “Answer me. I expect a response when I ask a question.”

  His hand hovered over a gold sword encrusted with blood-red rubies strapped to his waist. My breath caught. Had the treacherous Forest betrayed me by luring me into a trap? Did he mean to murder me? Terror seized my pounding heart in a tight clamp before I forced myself to take a calming breath. Those overdramatic thoughts were exactly what Rosie would think in this situation. I couldn’t dwell on them. Instead I needed to focus on escaping, but I remained frozen, the man’s eyes holding me captive.

  I finally found my voice. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  He stroked the hilt of his sword with long, slender fingers. “Who said anything about hurting you?” He frowned down at his sword. “Ah, you’re afraid I might use this? You believe I’m a man capable of hurting an innocent maiden? It appears I’m making a rather poor first impression.” He studied my features, the hardened lines of his own softening with his perusal. “I have no intention of hurting you. I would, however, appreciate an introduction.”

  He wanted an introduction? I wasn’t so naive as to give him that. I shook my head. Disappointment filled his eyes.

  “I mean you no harm, I just want to know who you are.” He stepped forward and I darted away—right into a low-hanging branch, hitting it at the perfect angle for it to dig into my neck. My breath hitched at the sharp, biting pain.

  The stranger flinched, as if my pain had been his own, and watched the blood trickle down my throat. I gingerly touched my neck and withdrew my fingers, gaping at the blood staining them. A tree from my Forest had scratched me. Had it tried to stop me from escaping this stranger? I glared at the treacherous tree and was satisfied when it rustled guiltily before slowly withdrawing its offending branch, but the damage had been done.

  A blush stained the stranger’s cheeks. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, if I hadn’t startled you—” He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly before looking determinedly at his feet.

  I stared at him as I rubbed the wound on my neck, sticky with blood. He withdrew a handkerchief and held it out to me. I made no move to take it.

  “I’m sorry. I just—I’m sorry.” He made another attempt to hand me his handkerchief. When I still refused it, he dabbed at my cut himself and sighed when I flinched away. “Won’t you allow me to play the part of a gentleman?”

  “Do you see a gentleman here?”

  Rather than being offended by my insult, he merely tilted his head and studied me, as if I were a complicated riddle he was desperate to solve. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I must have your name.”

  “I don’t share my identity with strangers.”

  His eyebrows rose before his lips quirked into a smile. “If we were properly introduced, I wouldn’t be a stranger any longer.”

  I folded my arms and gave him my most skewering glare; by the way his mouth twitched, it clearly wasn’t very effective.

  “Won’t you tell me your name?” Amusement filled his ebony gaze as he searched mine as if looking for an answer to a great secret.

  “Do you honestly believe you can convince me after I’ve already adamantly refused?”

  “Considering I outrank you and I asked nicely, yes, I do.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure that, as a noble, you’re used to everyone groveling at your feet, but I refuse to obey you. Besides, what need would a nobleman have in knowing the identity of a simple peasant girl?”

  He frowned. “Stubborn, aren’t you? But I refuse to concede until I’ve obtained my objective.” He glanced around the clearing. “The Forest led me to this area for a particular reason, and I need to know why. If it was to meet you, then I cannot leave without your name. Will you tell me if I say please?”

  “No.”

  The stranger’s brows furrowed as he closed the distance between us. “Although I’m rather frustrated by your resistance in giving me what I want, I admit I find your spunk thoroughly enchanting; I’m not used to being spoken to in such a manner by those of your station.”

  I frowned. “You’re rather bold.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  The man was exasperating. “Is this how you interact with every maiden you encounter?”

  “No, this honor befalls only you.” He leaned closer and I shuddered as his breath caressed my skin. “All I’m asking for is your name. Won’t you tell me?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak through the strange sensation I was suddenly feeling. It pushed against my fear—warm, fluttery, and strangely appealing. What was this emotion? Horror seized my breast as I recognized what it was—attraction. I hastily squelched it before it could take root. No, I refused to be attracted to a man I’d barely met, and such an aggravating one at that.

  “Please.” Longing filled his voice. “You don’t understand. I have to know.”

  “Then brace yourself for disappointment, because I refuse t
o give you what you want.”

  He sighed as he withdrew. “Very well.”

  I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.

  “Despite your belief to the contrary, I won’t force you to do anything…although I do still hope to persuade you. I find the longer our interaction continues, the more anxious I am to know your identity.”

  The man certainly was persistent. I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. “Why are you so desperate to learn it?”

  He tilted his head to study me once more, not in an improper way, but an unsettling one nonetheless. “The Forest is rather selective in whom it allows to explore it, and the longer I’m with you, the more I want to get to know you and discover its reasoning. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that’s…”

  “…getting beneath your skin?”

  He smiled wryly. “Something like that.”

  I smirked, satisfied that I’d riled him, my revenge for his sinister presence invading my sanctuary. He eyed my smug smile with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement.

  “Strangely, I find your lack of cooperation endearing. It’s not every day I encounter such a fair maiden in the woods. It makes me even more curious as to what brings you to my Forest.”

  His Forest? It was the third time he’d claimed this. “The Forest belongs to no one, but if my presence bothers you, I’ll happily humor you by leaving.”

  He bowed and motioned towards the edge of the clearing. “Be my guest. There’s no need for you to linger if you don’t want to. However, there is one small problem…”

  My stomach knotted at the way his dark eyes lit up. Whatever idea had just occurred to him, it probably wouldn’t be one I liked. “What’s the problem?”

  “You’ll discover it shortly.”

  I sighed. I was tired of this strange game. I spun on my heels and stomped towards the edge of the clearing, but the stranger darted in front of me, blocking me.