The King & His Queen (Pict King Series Book 3) Read online

  The King & His Queen

  The Pict King Series

  Donna Fletcher

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Also by Donna Fletcher

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The King & His Queen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright February 2017 by Donna Fletcher

  Cover art

  Kim Killion Group

  Visit Donna’s Web site

  www.donnafletcher.com/

  http://www.facebook.com/donna.fletcher.author

  Chapter 1

  Hemera hurried her cloak over her shoulders as she left her dwelling. She tilted her head back to look up at the sky and smiled. The first light of day was breaking on the horizon and she quickened her steps. She wanted to get to the forest and greet the dawn as she did most every day. She hoped to feel the bright rays of the morning sun upon her. Too often gray, thick clouds masked the rising sun.

  The stronghold gate opened each day after the sun had completely risen, but that was of no consequence to Hemera. She often explored the small area of woods behind her dwelling that had once belonged to Paine, the King’s executioner. For now, it was her home. It sat apart from the other dwellings that comprised the village within the stronghold as did the torture dwelling only a short distance away. The purpose? No one would hear the anguished cries of those being tortured. Thankfully, it had remained quiet since she had inhabited the adjacent home. Her curiosity had had her exploring the sinister dwelling, though she had been warned against going there. Seeing the instruments of torture, she could make no sense of such depravity. But then there were many things that made no sense to her.

  The forest, however, she understood and embraced all it had to share with her. Not wanting to ever feel as trapped as she once did, she had searched for a way out of the stronghold, other than the main gate. She had found a slightly loose board in the tall, wooden fence that surrounded the stronghold and was hidden by the small area of woods behind her home. It had taken time and patience to work one of the boards free enough for her to slip past and secure back in place. No one would ever take notice of it, just as they did not take notice of the many other secrets in the stronghold.

  Hemera secured the piece of fencing back in place and hurried along through the woods that were now as familiar to her as was the village. She would return before her sister Verity came looking for her. Verity and her husband Wrath, the King’s commander warrior of his personal guards, would be too busy mating to pay any attention to her. She chuckled, recalling how she had entered their dwelling one morning to find Verity bouncing quite forcefully on top of Wrath. Hemera had been so surprised that she had simply stood there staring. That was until Wrath spotted her and she learned why his name suited him so well.

  A slight wind swirled around her as she stepped away from the fence, bringing with it a chill and the scent of the forest. She smiled and sniffed the potent air. The earth’s musky aroma was growing stronger. Soon the dark, rich soil would be eager to receive seeds, to birth new saplings, and provide for the creatures that called the woods their home.

  She hurried along, eager to be well into the woods before the day dawned and the stronghold stirred to life. She stopped when light broke through the bare branches of the trees and tilted her head back to catch some of the sun’s warmth on her face. Her hood fell away, unleashing her long, fiery red hair that, try as she might, could not be contained. Dawn always brought a smile to her face. Sunrise was pure magic, holding the promise of another day and all it had to offer.

  One could never tell how long the sun would last. The heavens seemed to have a mind of its own, changing so suddenly that one never knew what to expect from sunrise to darkness. Lately though, she had been seeing signs of change in the woods. Hues of green and yellow grass were sprouting and tiny buds were beginning to make themselves known on the trees.

  Hemera sighed with a smile. The sun kissed her face with its warmth and made her even more eager to seek the solitude of the forest and see what it had to show her today. She turned her attention to her surroundings and took a path that was not yet truly a path, having yet to be worn down by footfalls or horses’ hooves.

  Her glance darted about, keeping a keen eye on where she stepped and her surroundings. She had always been light in her steps and watchful, skills that had served her well. Particularly now, having no wont to happen upon any of the sentinels the King kept stationed on the outer boundaries of the stronghold. Guards had spotted her a few times and reported her to the King. The King, in turn, had chastised Verity for not keeping watch over her sister.

  Why the King thought Verity should be responsible for her baffled Hemera. She was capable of tending herself. Besides, she kept to herself out of choice. Solitude was more to her liking, since more often than not, she found people uninteresting, and men completely puzzled her.

  “A snow tear,” she said excited and dropped down on her knees beside green leaves sprouting from a small patch of snow that had yet to melt.

  Soon a bud would emerge and a drooping white flower would spring from it. She had named the flower snow tear since it often bloomed from a lingering patch of snow and its drooping appearance made it appear saddened that the snow was melting.

  She welcomed the leaves with a gentle stroke of her finger. “It is good to see you.”

  A sudden noise had her head shooting up and her eyes turning wide. Several red squirrels were racing along the ground and spiraling up the trees. It was mating time for them, but it did not appear as if the squirrels were engaged in the routine of playfulness before mating. It appeared more like they were scurrying to get away from danger, perhaps from hunters or a larger animal.

  Hemera got to her feet, though remained crouched, looking about, pleased the forest animals had alerted her to possible danger. She kept crouched down as she made her way behind a formation of boulders, to wait and listen.

  She kept herself aware, always aware, knowing the problem with the Northmen was far from over. King Talon may have ordered Ulric, son of Haggard, Chieftain of the Southern Region of the Northmen, to leave Pict shores, but Ulric was not one to obey orders. He barely obeyed his father. Why should he submit to King Talon’s demands?

  No, the Picts had not seen the last of Ulric.

  King Talon had unified all the Pict tribes, though not without bloodshed. He had made them a stronger force against Pict enemies. Some, however, continued to disagree with the unification, and more stro
ngly the fact that the King, after two marriages, had failed to produce an heir to the Pict throne. Some believed he never would, especially since both previous wives now carried their new husbands’ bairns. Opinions were growing stronger that King Talon should surrender the throne to a man who could produce heirs and secure the future of the Picts.

  A third marriage had been arranged and was soon to take place. If the future queen did not bear the King a child, then there would be an outcry for him to renounce the throne. If not, the throne would surely be taken from him.

  Light footfalls caught her attention. They were coming her way. She remained where she was, not moving, not making a sound. As she heard them pass near to where she was hiding, she waited until she was sure the person was a good distance away, then she peeked past the boulder, keeping low so as not to be seen.

  Hemera peered past the many trees, now glad for the barren branches that were only beginning to show signs of budding and briefly caught sight of a figure draped in a cloak, the hood drawn up. She recognized the black cloak, but not the dull black color of most garments. This was a rich black cloak, the wool dyed in bog mire with oak twigs and chips to keep the color deep and steadfast. It was the unique color of the King’s personal guard.

  What was one of the King’s personal guards doing out here alone, so early, in the forest?

  Hemera watched and waited until the lone figure completely disappeared from sight, then she waited until she heard the animal’s scurrying about in play before emerging from behind the boulders.

  Hemera smiled. The threat had passed and the squirrels felt safe once again. She watched as the male squirrels frantically chased after the females, eager to mate and sire progeny. Her smile faded as her brow drew together. Why had one lone figure frightened them so badly? Or had the figure not been alone?

  She would think on it. Something she often did when an answer was not directly forthcoming. Not now. Now she would enjoy the woods while she could. She continued on, the woods growing denser with her every step. It would be a good place to forage for plants and food throughout the moon cycles.

  Something caught her eye on the ground and brought her to an abrupt halt and she crouched down to get a better look. Footfalls had left their shadows in patches of snow and the wet soil. There was something about them that had her staring, tilting her head, and viewing them from different angles. Three people of varying bulk had met here and she would not be surprised if one had been the cloaked figure she had seen walking toward the stronghold. Had that figure found a secret way in and out of the stronghold as she had done?

  Hemera stared in the distance, her thoughts churning. Was someone inside the stronghold plotting with the King’s enemies and was it one of his own personal guards? She would have to tell him about it. It meant his safety and the safety of the stronghold.

  She turned, having lingered long enough in the woods. Verity would be looking for her soon for them to take the morn repast in the feasting house together, while Wrath spent time with King Talon. She quickened her steps, deciding to return through the front gate rather than the spot in the fence. It was more of a direct path to the feasting house and she had no doubt that Verity was already there waiting for her. If she did not appear soon, Wrath would have warriors searching for her. She stopped at the edge of the woods that opened onto the clearing in front of the stronghold. She was a distance away and she wondered if the King’s warriors would question her. They were diligent in their task, keeping a watchful eye on all who left and returned. And being she had already been taken to task by the King for walking in the woods alone, they might make note of her return and question when she had left.

  A quick thought came to mind and she hurried to gather small broken branches. It was common to see women returning to the stronghold with armfuls of broken branches. The branches were used to keep fire pits going when large flames were not necessary. Hopefully, the familiar sight would have the King’s warriors paying her no heed. If not, there was little she could do, but face the consequences. Something she had become familiar with often throughout the years.

  With sure and steady steps, Hemera made her way toward the stronghold gate. She stopped suddenly when the guards frantically began waving their hands for people to move aside, clearing the gate entrance. One guard waved quite forcefully at her and hearing horses’ hooves behind her, she quickly obeyed.

  It could be only one person who demanded such attention—the King.

  Hemera turned to see him bearing down on the stronghold and he was a sight to behold. He looked as though he was riding into battle rather than returning home. A deep scowl attempted to mar his fine features, but failed. His perpetual glare added a look of assured power. He was to be obeyed or else. His body, lean, though strong with muscle, exuded even more power. She had heard talk that he could snap a man’s neck with little effort and swing a sword with even less effort. She wondered if it was more myth than truth. His dark garments added to the mystery surrounding him, making him appear more sinful than righteous.

  She wondered if he was truly either.

  At this moment, though, she believed sinful was the correct choice.

  His black stallion pounded the earth and the King leaned lower over his horse and to the side as he drew closer to her and when his arm shot out, she realized too late his intention.

  His coiled arm snagged her around the waist, the strength of it rushing the breath from her and sending the armful of sticks she held flying.

  Chapter 2

  Talon dropped her to sit sideways in front of him on his horse. Her arms quickly clamped around his neck and she buried her face there as well. He held her firm, her full breasts pressing against his chest and the scent of her flooding over him. She forever smelled of the savory pine trees and the ripe earth, ready for planting.

  Would she nourish his seed when no other woman could?

  He forced the sudden and absurd thought away and grew annoyed at the unexpected stirring in his loins. He had no interest in this woman. She had proven to be more a nuisance than anything and she failed to obey him at every turn. So where had the strange thought come from?

  Talon slowed his horse as they approached the open gates and entered the stronghold at a tempered pace. Activity came to a halt as all in the village stopped to stare at him. Some failed to hide their shock, their mouths agape, while others’ eyes rounded so wide that he thought for certain they would burst from their heads.

  “Return to your chores now!” he called out, his powerful voice leaving no doubt he was to be obeyed.

  The people were quick to submit, stealing glances the King’s way and, though Talon saw, he did not correct the offenders. They would be the ones who would watch and let others know that the King looked after Hemera’s safety and nothing more.

  It did not surprise Talon to see Verity standing outside the feasting house, Wrath at her side. Someone must have hurried to let her know her sister rode with the King, since she wore a look of worry, and well she should. He brought his horse to a stop in front of the couple, his arm tightening at Hemera’s waist to keep her from sliding off the horse.

  Hemera felt the sharp tug that gripped her middle. She also felt the protectiveness in it. The King was keeping her safe, seeing that she remained unharmed and, at that moment, she felt safer than... She could not remember the last time she felt as safe as she did now.

  Reluctantly, she let her arms slip down from around his neck, though she was not ready to remove her face from where she had kept it tucked in the crook of his neck. He had a scent about him that she found appealing. What it was, she did not know, but she would like to.

  “Hemera!” Talon snapped.

  She raised her head and her brow narrowed slowly. His fine features were even finer, seeing them so close. His dark, slim brows arched perfectly over eyes that were a deep color of blue that rivaled the mighty sea. Her skin paled next to his warm color and it was unmarred, except for the drawing that ran down the one side of
his face, the swirling lines reaching out to brush his cheek.

  Her eyes roamed his face with far too much curiosity, and she was far too beautiful for him to stare at her with equal curiosity. Frustrated, he said, “How often have I warned you not to walk in the woods alone?”

  Her brow furrowed as she tilted her head slightly and, after a moment, she said, “I believe it was five warnings.”

  He drew in a breath to keep hold of his temper. He had to continually remind himself that she was slow to understand. Anger, warnings, threats were wasted on her.

  “Verity, tend your sister!” he ordered without taking his eyes off Hemera.

  “Why do you burden my sister with an unnecessary chore?” Hemera asked. “I do not need tending. I can look after myself.”

  Talon planted his face closer to Hemera’s. “You do need tending when you fail to obey my orders.”

  After a brief hesitation, she said, “Not the ones that make sense.”

  Verity rushed forward, Wrath following closely behind her.

  King Talon’s hand shot up again, halting them.

  “You question my reasoning?”

  “How can I not question it when there is fault to it?”

  “Let me take her,” Wrath said, hurrying around his wife and reaching up for Hemera.

  “Keep her from me,” Talon ordered as he shoved her gently off the horse into Wrath’s arms.

  Verity stepped forward, taking her sister’s arm and rushing her into the feasting house.

  Talon watched them, wondering how the two sisters could be so different, not only in nature but appearance as well. Verity was a beautiful woman, but she could not compare to Hemera. Her beauty stunned the eye. Verity’ hair was as bright as the sun while Hemera’s hair was the color of fiery flames and appeared just as untamable, like her nature.

  He shook his head. What was it that kept his thoughts on her?