Table of Contents
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Next Read
Acknowledgments
Newsletter
About The Author
Stolen
Princess
Royal Conquest, Book 1
NIKKI JEFFORD
Copyright © 2018 Nikki Jefford
Cover design by Najla Qamber
All rights reserved.
ASIN: B07J3NLL4X
For Amber Shepherd for inspiring this story,
and
For my sister, Chelsea, a world away, but always in my thoughts.
CHAPTER ONE
In the ancient woods of Brightwhisk Forest, a silence as thick as mist settled beneath the trees.
I’d awoken before the birds. Before the deer. In that mystical time when nocturnal creatures seemed to disappear and daytime critters had yet to rouse. Hours before my father and sisters would stir.
Morning dew seeped into the hem of my gown from where I crouched in the underbrush swathed in my tattered green cloak.
A light pattering rustled the leaves above my head. A drop of rain splashed across my nose, and I resisted the urge to wipe it away, keeping still, blending into the forest. Rain cascaded from the clouds, drumming around my pointed ears and removing my earlier advantage. Any stirrings I would have picked up within the brush were now muffled by the rain. It splattered over my cloak, soaking through, dampening my thin white gown. Cold seeped into my bones and I allowed myself a slight shiver—no more than the rustling leaves overhead as the rain battered their delicate membranes.
I should get up and return home before I got soaked all the way through. A dry gown and hot mug of elderberry tea sounded divine, but they were comforts that wouldn’t last long if I came home empty-handed.
Our neighbors were already suspicious after catching Melarue plucking roses from their groomed flower gardens. Father had smoothed it over, but now, on top of everything else, we all had to keep a close eye on Mel—which mostly meant me. Hopefully Mel would sleep in and stay out of trouble before I returned home.
A soft rustle caught my elven ears. It wasn’t the swish of leaves pelted by rain, but an indication of something larger moving my way.
Ever so slowly, I lifted my bow and arrow, pulling back on the string with numb fingers.
I could feel the deer’s presence before I saw him. He took shape in my mind and moved toward me like mist. As soon as he stepped into view, I aimed a quarter of the way up his tan shoulder and released the arrow.
He fell onto the saturated earth—dead in his tracks.
It was a beautiful shot, one I took no pride in. My only comfort was he hadn’t suffered and that his meat and hide would support my family for another week or two. My heart squeezed inside my chest as I stood and walked over to my kill.
Wide, glassy eyes stared into the forest.
“Thank you, revered creature of Brightwhisk Forest, for laying down your life to aid me and my family. Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten. I release you to the Sky Mother and wish you well in your ascension into the sky realm.”
Send-off complete, I wasted no more time slinging my bow and quiver over the back of my sodden cloak and hefted the animal into my arms. The deer weighed heavy in my slender limbs, but I’d built up strength during the past seven months.
Father and Shalendra wanted to pretend everything was still the same. It wasn’t.
My long blonde hair stuck to my cheeks. The rain let up as I half carried, half dragged the deer’s carcass to the edge of Brightwhisk Forest. I had to set the animal down several times to rest. With no place dry to sit, I stood shivering, placing a hand to my throat. My fingers pressed against bare, clammy skin. Before picking the deer back up, I swiped my hair off my face, not caring that my hands were muddy.
Welcoming smoke billowed from cottages on the outskirts of Pinemist. I tried to hurry and stumbled over a tree root. The deer slipped out of my shivering arms and landed with a thud onto the ground.
“Sorry,” I said with a wince.
I attempted to shake some warmth into my fingers before picking the animal back up.
Once I reached Devdan’s cottage, I set the deer down gently on the ground and knocked on the wood door. It opened a foot before a set of light brown eyes, framed by messy matching brown hair, blinked at me.
“Aerith?”
“I made a kill,” I said, bowing my head.
Devdan opened the door wider. He wore a thin short-sleeved tunic and had long, slender, muscular arms. We were both in our nineteenth years and fighting to survive. But Devdan had been born into this life whereas I was still learning how to adapt. Luckily, I’d always been a good shot, and Devdan was more than willing to clean up my kills and sell what we didn’t keep—for a cut of the profit.
As much as my father wanted to keep any good fortune to come our way—every last bit of it—he still didn’t want anyone to see me selling at market or through back channels.
For now, this arrangement with Devdan worked, but in another couple months I might be forced to operate alone. We’d sold off the last of mother’s art, jewelry, and antiques. My sisters and I were supposed to keep one small pendant each, but even those had to go last week. I pressed my palm against my throat, feeling not only naked, but hollow, carved out like a jack-o’-lantern on All Hallows’ Eve.
Devdan whistled sharply. “Nice shot. He’s a beauty.”
“Was,” I corrected in a voice so soft I doubted Devdan caught it.
He stepped out, closing the door behind him, probably to keep the heat in. I shivered as Devdan looked over the carcass.
“I’ll get started on him after breakfast. He’ll fetch a good price.”
“How soon?” I asked.
Beneath his messy head of hair, Devdan’s teeth lined up perfectly when he smiled. “Soon. Trust me.”
“Do I have a choice?” I grumbled.
Devdan’s answering wink was hardly reassuring. For all I knew, he was taking more than his fair share, but he also knew how to negotiate the best price, and it probably had something to do with that enticing smile of his.
As I started away, Devdan coughed.
“Er, Aerith. You’ve got mud on your face.”
I swiped the back of my hand across my cheeks.
Devdan’s eyes squinted when he laughed.
“Did I make it worse?”
“Yep.” He grinned.
I sighed and reached for the ghost of my mother’s pendant yet again. My fingers curled in on themselves, clutching damp air. I lowered my fist and nodded.
“Thanks for taking care of the meat.”
“Yeah, sure,” Devdan said, shrugging one shoulder. He le
aned against his door and grinned. “Check back in a couple days, or come by sooner after you’re, you know, cleaned up and dry.” His eyes lingered on my lips.
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “That’ll be the day.”
Devdan’s grin widened. “Careful, Aerith. A year ago you didn’t think you’d be living hand to mouth, either. Things change from one day to the next.”
Boy, did they ever, and they were about to change in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine. Life was funny that way. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did, like it had something to prove.
On the east side of Pinemist, modest, yet beautiful, manor homes lined the smooth, compact, dirt road. The soft, sweet smell of pink and yellow roses caught my nose as I shuffled by Mrs. Periwinkle’s prized garden.
Weeds were creeping over the stone footpath to our front door. I kept up with it as best I could since father had been forced to let our gardener, Goren, go.
As soon as I stepped inside our foyer, I removed my saturated cloak and hung it from a wooden peg on the wall. Goosebumps rose over my arms.
I needed a hot bath—on the double!
My slipper-shoes made squishing sounds as I walked over the flagstones and down the wide hall, which seemed even wider with the removal of artwork and furniture.
I had to pass the sitting room to get back to my room and, unfortunately, a familiar male voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Your move, Elred.”
Jhaeros Keasandoral was here. My nose wrinkled.
Arrogant, stuffy Jhaeros. He’d take one look at me and purse his lips in disapproval. He didn’t need to utter one word to judge me. He found me offensive, that much had been clear from the beginning.
“I don’t like my options,” I heard my father say with a grumble. “One day I will beat you, Jhaeros.”
“No one ever has,” Jhaeros answered, matter-of-fact. Proud.
At least their attention was on their game of campaigne.
I tiptoed, as quietly as my saturated shoes would allow, past the open double doors of the sitting room. I’d almost made it past when my father called out, “Aerith! Get in here.”
Oh, pitberries. Why did he have to notice and call me in?
I hovered in the doorway, glancing longingly down the hallway.
“Aerith,” Father repeated in a low warning tone.
Suppressing a sigh, I shuffled into the sitting room, shoulders drooped, blonde hair still plastered to my face and neck, and goose pimples covering my arms.
A faded rug covered more than half the floor. We’d kept a light blue sofa, small round table, two chairs, and a bookcase that held the volumes deemed worthless by the local bookseller. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the tall window—the panes free of grime, thanks to the scrubbing I’d given them last month.
Jhaeros peeled his eyes away from the game board and looked me over from head to foot with a frown. His tall, strapping frame and commanding presence always made me fidgety. I avoided his piercing brown eyes the same way I dodged sharp, pointy objects.
My short, stocky father scooted away from the table and frowned at me. “What in tarnation are you doing out so early, and in the rain, no less? Were you off visiting that boy over on the south side again?”
My cheeks heated in anger and embarrassment at my father’s suggestion. He knew damned well why I went to see Devdan.
“Your gown is practically soaked through. Did any of the neighbors see you?” my father continued.
I folded my arms over my bosom, teeth clenched.
“No,” I ground out.
Father narrowed his eyes, looking unconvinced.
“Well, now that you’re back, you might as well clean yourself up.”
Happily. I backed away, only to be stopped by the tinkling laughter of my sister, Shalendra.
“Goodness, Aerith, you look a fright.”
I turned sideways, getting my first glimpse of my younger sister in her green velvet gown with its plunging neckline from which to best display her plump bosom. Rich dark brown hair was swept up into a soft half-bun on her head with lovely ringlets arranged around her pointed ears. A pair of emerald eyes glimmered from either side of her pert nose as she looked past me.
“Good morning, Jhaeros.” Shalendra blushed faintly, always on cue.
Jhaeros scrambled to his feet, nearly toppling his chair.
“Miss Heiris, you look lovely, as always.” His words rushed out and his entire expression softened.
Shalendra flashed him a demure smile.
“You are too kind, sir.”
“Not when it comes to campaigne,” Father grumbled.
A grin climbed up Shalendra’s cheeks.
“Has our reigning champion won again?”
“Not yet, but he will,” Father conceded.
I inched my way back. Perhaps if I moved in slow motion I’d make it out without further notice.
“What brings you by so early?” Shalendra asked.
I held back a snort. Like any of us really had to wonder. When it came to my middle sister, Jhaeros was a lovestruck fool. He didn’t even try to hide it, which should have amused me since he was such a pompous ass. Instead, his open displays of adoration turned the meager contents in my stomach to ash.
“I have something for you.” Jhaeros reached into his pocket and pulled out a black felt bag. He glanced at my father. “I hope you don’t mind?”
Father smiled and nodded his consent.
My heart stiffened inside my chest, anchoring me in place. I was torn between running from the room and seeing what it was Jhaeros was offering my sister. He’d already asked Father for permission to propose once, but Father, after conferring with Shalendra, said he’d have to wait until my sister turned eighteen to ask. That was in another four months. It seemed I was doomed to have a condescending elf for a brother-in-law. At least Shalendra would be better off. Jhaeros was the wealthiest elf in Pinemist and one of the few who knew the true extent of our misfortunes. Yet it hadn’t made him love Shalendra any less. I could give him credit for that much.
My sister’s eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the felt pouch.
“What’s this?” she asked uncertainly.
“A small gift,” Jhaeros said, placing it in her open palms.
Shalendra grinned and reached inside.
“You shouldn’t have.”
My breath hitched as she pulled out a silver filigreed pendant framing a large oval emerald. I’d had one just like it, only my stone had been blue. Mother had given us each one to match our eyes or, in Melarue’s case, red to match her hair. “My little firecracker,” she used to call Mel.
“Jhaeros.” Shalendra breathed his name. “How did you—” She couldn’t finish her sentence. She held the pendant by its chain and stared at it in wonder. “I can’t believe you found it. Thank you.”
“Please, allow me,” Jhaeros said.
Shalendra handed him her pendant and lifted her hair off her neck as he fastened the chain from behind her, a slight tremor in his fingers.
Tears swarmed my eyes, turning the pendant into a green blur. I twisted around and hurried out of the room to the sanctuary of my private quarters.
The floorboards creaked beneath my feet. The thick rug in my room had been sold off shortly after Mother’s death. My clothes had been moved from a beautifully carved armoire to an old scuffed-up trunk above which a small warped mirror hung. I walked up to it, looking through the murky glass at my grimy face. Dirt coated my forehead, nose, and cheeks. My hair looked stringy and flat. Dark half-moons seemed to have taken up permanent residence beneath my eyes, like a second set of eyebrows misplaced on my face. There was no dirt on my pale neck. There was nothing at all.
I knew why Father was eager to call me into the sitting room when Jhaeros was present. He wanted to remind the handsome elf which of his daughters was the beauty, the grace, the family jewel.
As though Jhaeros needed reminding.
He’d sweep S
halendra off her slippered feet in a heartbeat if she let him.
And me, I’d be left behind to sweep up the mess Mother’s death had made of our fortunes.
After changing into a dry cotton gown and braiding my hair, I went to the kitchen to make up a small pot of gruel. My youngest sister, Melarue, stood on a stool in front of the teakettle. Her long red hair was tangled, making her appear younger than her fifteen years. When she turned her head to smile at me, bright green eyes beamed at me.
“Would you like some rose petal tea?” Mel asked.
I laughed. “Sure, I’d love some rose petal tea.” I didn’t point out that it would taste better if she let the petals dry out first.
“It’s very fancy, you know,” Mel said as she tossed rose petals into a mug.
“A rare delicacy, I know,” I replied.
Mel grinned and poured steaming water from the kettle into the mug.
“Now, you must let it steep first.”
While we waited, I finger-combed Mel’s hair gently then plaited it like mine. She squirmed for the finger-combing but held still for the braiding.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
Mel pursed her lips. “What are you making?”
“Gruel.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Mel, you have to eat.”
“Oh, I’ll eat—later.” A mischievous grin twitched over Mel’s lips.
My heart puddled into my stomach knowing what she meant by that. Mother would be devastated if she could see us now: her oldest up at the crack of dawn hunting down our next meal, her youngest a thief, and her prized possessions sold off. After Mother’s death, her parents, my grandparents, had said they were finished with Father and his lazy ways. Too bad my sisters and I had to suffer the consequences alongside him.
A loud pounding on the front door jolted me out of my thoughts.
Mel and I looked at one another wide-eyed. No one besides Jhaeros ever came calling anymore, and he was already here.
The pounding continued.
“Aerith!” Father hollered.
I ground my teeth and counted slowly to three inside my head.
More pounding.
Stolen Princess Page 1