Hello everyone! I know I promised a post last Friday, but life got away from me. It's tech week for The Wizard of Oz, so I've been a bit swamped. Anyway, on my book's
Facebook page, I asked if anyone would be interested in a bit of a sneak peek of The Prince's Quest. So here it is. This is the prologue. It hasn't been through official editing, and was written over a year ago, so has many things to be fixed- it has lots of -ly words. But I hope you will enjoy anyway!
Without further ado, I present the prologue to The Prince's Quest.
“Your highness?” Prince Elric turned towards the husky voice
that called for his attention. “The girls have been gathered.”
The young man nodded, staring into the distance. “I’m
coming,” he said slowly, distinctly.
“Very good, sire,” the manservant said, bowing slightly
before exiting the royal’s chambers.
The prince adjusted the shoulders of his deep blue tunic,
leaving the skirt of the fabric to rest above the knees of his brown breeches.
Straightening, he pushed open the door, to reveal a rather dark corridor with a
deep purple rug covering the entire length of the hallway’s floor. Will she be here?” he found himself
wondering, barely able to hope.
With memories flashing in a strange exotic swirl in his
mind, it was hard to tell what in the past few weeks was a dream, and what was
reality. Perhaps, even, he was becoming insane. Could a sound minded man
separate fact from fiction?
Stop being a fool, the
prince chided himself, taking a deep breath, and stopping before a tall set of
double doors. Beyond lay the future. What was in this room would shape his
future, the path he would take; He only hoped he would not be disappointed.
Inhaling deeply, hart pounding madly, he shoved open the doors.
His manservant, Winston, who must have arrived but a few
short moments before, stood waiting for him, fingers patting a nervous rhythm
on his black trousers. “Prince
Elric,” he said, sounding extremely relieved. “I think we must hurry- if your
father knew what we were doing-“
“Hush,” Elric
said, his voice low, thick with some sort of emotion Winston could not quite
place. His eyes were focused on the long line of girls, representing the entire
unwed group from the village of Redge.
Not daring to
get his hopes up, the prince traversed down the line slowly, disappointment
cutting into him like the deepest of knife wounds. Was it even likely that she
would be here, among this crowd of peasant girls, all of which were probably
worth a great deal more then they had been given credit? Perhaps they did not
have substantial sums of money, a title… or any such thing. But was that what
truly mattered anyway?
Some of the
girls did not look at him as he walked by; others were smiling at him openly. Pick me, their gazes said. I want to be important.
Glancing up,
Elric saw a group of people huddled in the background; eyes filled with a
nervous anticipation. After all, it wasn’t every day that the greatest prince
in the kingdom sent out a messenger to a village asking for all young women of
marriageable age to report to one of the royal family’s many palaces- this one
located on the outskirt of Redge. The prince realized that these people must be
the loved ones of the girls standing before him. And they were just as anxious
about his motives as the girls themselves.
As he passed
another hopeful young lady, her eyes large and bright, he caught sight of the
honey colored hair of the girl standing next to her. His breath hitched in his
throat, and he fumbled for something intelligent to say. Finally, in an almost
inaudible whisper, he spoke one word; one name.
“Anya?” A pair
of frightened green eyes turned to him. They pleaded with him, and Elric saw a
deep dread hanging there, as if being chosen were a death sentence.
“Please,” she
whimpered. The prince fought back the distress clawing at his chest. He
expelled a shaky breath, before taking her hand carefully.
“You are free
to go,” he said softly, kindly.
The girl gave a gasp of joy, before withdrawing her hand
from his, and rushing back to the group of families. The prince watched with an
odd feeling in his stomach as the girl threw her arms around a young, tanned
boy who probably worked the king’s fields, and received the lowest of salaries.
The girl clung the young man, as if she never wished to be parted from him, and
hot tears coursed down her cheeks, while the boy whispered comforting words
into her ear.
The prince
smiled sadly to himself. It had not been her. It was just another peasant girl;
but not his peasant girl. Half-heartedly, Elric paraded past the remaining
village girls, before raising his voice loudly so that all in the room could
hear his echoing words.
“You are free
to go,” he said without emotion. A wave a disappointment washed through the crowd.
Disappointment that almost mirrored his own. And yet, stronger even then the
disappointment was wonderful, sweet relief. Nothing bad was going to happen.
Now one was going to be punished. And no one’s daughter would marry a tyrant’s
son.
Winston hurried
to his employer, curiosity lighting his eyes. “Did you not find her?” he asked
hurriedly/ The prince felt his shoulders slump forward slightly.
“Not yet,” he
said quietly, beginning the trek back to his lavish sleeping chambers.
Perhaps he
should speak to some of the men from Redge, and attempt to weasel the answers
from them. Maybe it wouldn’t work – he
was the king’s son, after all. He was, by association, the enemy. He was
dangerous. Men of his lineage had only ever brought pain and suffering to the
people of this unfortunate kingdom. Then again, every man, no matter how true,
and good they professed to be had a price. Didn’t they?
Elric was even
uncertain of this himself, but he brushed all doubts from his mind, and
quickened his step. The villagers must talk to him. He could not even begin to
think of what he would do if they rebutted all of his approaches. But no, they
would not. His quest was much too important.
“Not yet,” he
repeated, entering his chambers whilst pulling a scrolled map of the kingdom
from a bookshelf above the comfortable, goose down bed. Running his finger over
various trails and roads, his mind sifted through hundred of possibilities. His
index finger trailed over the Wolfs bane mountain range, and through the Filian
dessert, and in the gorge of Ill Will. She could have gone anywhere. Turning
suddenly, Elric faced his aide, who stood surprised in the doorway.
“Winston,” the
prince said thoughtfully, brushing his hands together to rid himself of the
dust the map had accumulated without constant use.
“Yes?” the
servant asked, performing yet another bow.
“I’m going to speak with the king.”
