Queen of Savon Read online

  QUEEN OF SAVON

  Tricia Andersen

  Medieval Fantasy Romance

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  Medieval Fantasy Romance

  Queen of Savon

  Copyright © 2013 Tricia Andersen

  E-book ISBN: 978-1533505545

  First E-book Publication: June 2013

  Republished May 2016

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Mom, Tina, Tammy, Kristie, Christine and Jenn – thank you for being willing to read for me and for being the best friends and fans ever!

  QUEEN OF SAVON

  Tricia Andersen

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  Thomas gazed out the heavy, cold, glass window at the autumn setting sun. His large frame heaved with a sigh as the golden rays pierced the evening sky.

  Thomas thought of her—his wife, Anna—long taken away from him by death. The falling leaves of yellow and crimson reminded him of her perfect blond hair and her deep red lips. He could see her crystal blue eyes, feel her soft ivory skin—his memories of her still made his heart ache.

  He had not been there when she died. In a way, he was thankful, even though he would have given his soul to see her alive once more. Thomas, the most powerful man in the kingdom of Savon, was unable to stop his own wife from bleeding to death.

  Thomas turned at the chatter of young boys at play. His attention returned to the world outside the window, watching each star appear one by one from the black veil of night to shine their light on those below. Is she watching me?

  Thomas heard the patter of small feet against the stone floor then felt a pair of small arms clasp his waist. He heard the soft cries of a child's voice. Looking down into the deep dark eyes of his son, Thomas ruffled the boy's raven black hair. “Matthew?”

  The child whimpered again, burying his face in the folds of his father's trouser leg. “Matthew, what is wrong?”

  “Victor won the game. He laughed and sang and made me feel bad,” Matthew sobbed.

  Thomas knelt before his son and held him tight. He looked up to see another small boy, with hair as blond as sand, watching them intently. Victor was eight, same as Matthew.

  Thomas stared into Matthew's eyes. “I have told you that you have to be patient with Victor. That is what Victor has been taught to know—to win.”

  Matthew sighed then nodded while staring at the stone floor beneath his feet. Thomas tenderly brushed the black locks from Matthew’s forehead then hugged him close—Anna’s last gift to her husband.

  “Your majesty?” A servant girl hovered timidly in the doorway.

  Thomas rose up, turning towards the young woman. “Yes?”

  “Malicar, your advisor, has arrived.”

  Thomas touched Matthew's shoulder briefly then strode through the hallways of the palace to the entrance room.

  A tall, thin, ancient man stood near the great oak doors, glancing from one velvet tapestry to the other. With each twitch of his gaunt body, his ash-white robe radiated with a rainbow prism of light.

  “Malicar, you have returned,” Thomas greeted as he leaned against the railing of the balcony.

  “Yes, your majesty. It is good to be back.”

  “Your family?”

  Malicar sighed. “My daughter and son-in-law are both dead. My granddaughter is all that I have left.”

  Thomas noticed a pair of small, hazel eyes peek from behind Malicar's robe. Malicar nudged her in front of him gently. She was small and dressed in the same robes as her grandfather. She was also thin, obviously suffering from the same conditions that afflicted many of the citizens of Savon. As she meekly curtsied, her soft brown hair brushed her shoulders.

  Thomas descended the stairway. He knelt before the little girl and smiled.

  “She will become my apprentice,” Malicar continued. “Her name is Cassandra.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Eight. Three days younger than Matthew.”

  Thomas touched her cheek affectionately. “She is the perfect addition to my plan, Malicar.”

  “How so, your majesty?”

  “We can raise her with Matthew and Victor. When the day comes that Matthew will take the crown, the general of his army and his personal advisor will be already in place, ingrained with complete loyalty and a willingness to serve him.” Thomas smiled at the old man. “With your permission, of course.”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  “You realize, Malicar, what this would mean for her? She could have no husband, no family. She would give her herself solely to the crown, just like Victor.”

  “If she could be so fortunate. This option is better than the state of her life at the present time.”

  Thomas looked at the little girl again. “If her sorcery is any match to yours, Matthew will be well protected.”

  “I will teach her everything I know.”

  “Then, she will stay with you, and you will bring her here every day?”

  “Yes, but I do have an issue about which I need to speak with you. There is a meeting of magical beings, which I must attend. I cannot take Cassandra—she would be in grave danger. And I must leave tomorrow.”

  “She is welcome to stay here.”

  “I will bring her with her things in the morning.” Malicar bowed. “Thank you, your majesty.”

  “In the meantime, let me show you my home.” Thomas smiled at Cassandra as he took her hand in his. Glancing up to the balcony, he found Matthew and Victor kneeling at the railing, their eyes captivated by the strange new creature, who had entered their home. Shifting his stare to Cassandra once more, he saw her returning their regard with a glimmer in her mischievous, hazel eyes.

  Thomas laughed as he led her through the door to the dining hall.

  * * * *

  Cassandra whispered through the halls of the giant palace, the stone floor underneath her small, bare toes cold to the touch. She hugged her arms around herself as she gazed at the royal tapestries, the elaborately painted vases, the glimmering silver and gold plates, and the goblets encrusted with precious stones.

  A week ago, she had huddled on the dirt floor of the cottage where she lived, buried between the dead bodies of her parents. Several troops dressed in black had stolen their grain and possessions before beating them lifeless. Their commander, a man they called Gorgon, had overseen their thievery. He had slapped her and called her a worthless urchin.


  Is this where Gorgon lives? This was the largest place Cassandra had seen in her young life. It was filled with armed guards. Just like those who attacked my village, but they do not wear black. Does Gorgon serve King Thomas? Or does King Thomas serve Gorgon? Maybe Grandfather will tell me when he returns.

  Cassandra glanced into a bedroom, seeing the blond boy who lived here sleeping peacefully in his bed. Victor is his name. She was pleased to remember. He had been raised here with Matthew, even though his father, mother, and nine brothers and sisters lived in the neighboring village of Sebrone. Victor had followed her around that day, asking her question after question that she did not want to answer.

  Wandering a little farther, Cassandra peeked into a large, richly furnished chamber. A great marble fireplace danced alive with a roaring blaze that lit the room. Two glass doors led to a stone balcony, which overlooked the royal garden.

  Cedar dressers, wardrobes, and tables sat perfectly in their place throughout the room, their shadows splashed against the walls and the lush crimson rugs that lined the floor. Each delicately carved piece surrounded the centerpiece of the room, a large cedar, poster bed draped with gold curtains and a soft crimson bedspread.

  Thomas sat up against the white linen pillows, while Matthew curled up against him, reading a book aloud. Thomas pulled the covers tighter around them as he listened with rapt attention to his son.

  Cassandra stood in the doorway, mesmerized by the young boy's voice. Matthew had shied away from her during this first day that she had spent in the palace, hidden behind either Victor or a book. However, during the many times that she looked up at him, she had caught him staring at her, his dark eyes wide with wonder.

  “Cassandra?”

  Cassandra bowed her head in shame. She had stayed too long, spying on the king and prince.

  “Cassandra, come here.”

  Cassandra tiptoed through the bedchamber toward Thomas, her head sunk low. She waited for her punishment.

  Instead, Thomas asked softly, “Do you want to hear the story?”

  Cassandra raised her eyes slowly before nodding. Then, she climbed carefully to the spot on the bed where Thomas had patted.

  “Do you know how to read?” Thomas questioned. When Cassandra shook her head, Thomas smiled at her gently. “We will have to change that.”

  Cassandra watched as Thomas looked to his other side and found his son clinging to his arm. Matthew was obviously still disturbed by her presence. “Do you wish to continue, or should I?” Thomas asked the young boy.

  “You,” was his timid answer.

  Thomas turned the pages of the book, softly spinning tales of dragons, mermaids, unicorns, and other mystical creatures from the scribed words. Leaning back on the pillows, Cassandra’s vivid imagination painted the many creatures and brought them to life in her mind. Then, her eyes grew heavy. The pillow enveloped her in a cloud of down. She felt warm and safe for the first time in her life.

  Her eyes fluttered open as she felt the mattress shift. She watched through dim eyes as Thomas laid the book at the end of the bed then pried the covers from beneath her. After tucking the blankets around her, he smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. He did the same to Matthew also, before he settled into the bed himself. As she listened to the king’s heavy sigh, she drifted off to sleep.

  * * * *

  Malicar gazed at the clear night sky from the clearing in the woods. The unearthly sounds of beasts and the cackles of witches, wizards, and other assorted beings echoed out to him.

  He breathed deeply as he gazed into the vast starry abyss. His tall, gaunt frame brushed against the thick grass. He struggled to think of a night quite like this, one so beautiful, one so dense with magic. There had to be one. He had lived over five hundred years.

  Malicar could not remember his childhood. It had been so long ago. He had seen famine, plenty, wars, and peace. Living isolated for the first couple of centuries, he then served Thomas’s grandfather and father before Thomas came to the throne.

  It was while he was aiding King Alexander, Thomas’s father, that he fell in love.

  Her name was Agatha. She was beautiful, a witch from the neighboring kingdom of Gavoy. Their love was sweet, and their passion intense. She bore him one child, a daughter. They raised little Catherine in Malicar’s castle secluded from the rest of the world by a woven wall of tree branches.

  Malicar shuddered at the intense memories flooding his mind. They were almost too much. Shortly before Catherine reached adulthood, Agatha fell ill. No spell, no potion, could heal her. Malicar’s heart broke as his lover died in his arms.

  Then, it was shattered to dust when Catherine denounced her magic and her father. She demanded he find a way to make her mortal. Once the spell was cast, Catherine gathered her things and left her father behind. Over time, Catherine found love and became a mother herself.

  He closed his eyes to fight his ancient tears as he thought about what happened next. Catherine and her husband were killed by Gorgon’s forces, leaving behind his granddaughter, Cassandra. He steeled his will. Although age would not be on his side, he would protect the young girl with his life. She was the only family he had left. Now, to learn more about little Cassandra…

  The old sorcerer set a monstrous book, nearly twelve inches thick, onto a large rock in the center of the clearing. He lovingly rubbed his wrinkled, crooked fingers down the aged violet leather before opening the volume and turning the pages until they were blank.

  A falcon screeched loudly, circling over Malicar's head. He landed on the sorcerer's arm, a quill pen clenched in his beak.

  “Hello, Eliezar.”

  Malicar took the writing instrument from the bird and paused over the folio. Without ink, he magically wrote, Tell me about my granddaughter, Cassandra.

  The book sat silently. Suddenly, words appeared, flowing across the page like water in a stream.

  She will grow beautiful and strong. Her magic will be mighty, and her heart will be filled with love and mercy for those around her. She will be the desire of two men, who will battle against each other for her. One will betray her and lead her to her death. One will love her and give his own life for her. She will have many children and become a great woman.

  Malicar stared at the words, confused at their entire meaning. His eyes opened wide as the tome began to burn. He stepped back, not alarmed by the flames, but by the significance they bore. His heart was gripped in fear as he awaited the next missive.

  As the blaze died down, he approached cautiously to blow out the remainder of the flames. His breath escaped him as he read the emblazoned inscription.

  She will become the Queen of Savon.

  * * * *

  Cassandra fidgeted quietly as she waited in the entrance hall of the palace. She grazed her small fingers across the braids that framed her face and guarded the band of gold that ran across her forehead. She stared down at the gold stole that draped across her shoulders and against her chest. Then, she looked up at the courtiers that guarded the door of the throne room. They watched her silently, barely suppressing amused smiles.

  Cassandra snapped her attention up to the balcony. Victor strode across the stone floor in brand new boots, holding his chest high in his military dress uniform. He adjusted the sash draped across his waist that bore his small sword as he descended the stairs.

  He stood next to her, meeting her gaze, before they both turned and stared at the large carved doors. The courtiers slowly pushed them open and gently motioned the youngsters in.

  Thomas sat proudly on his throne, his figure larger than life. He was dressed in his royal crimson coat, with his silver sword embedded with rubies lying by his side. Matthew nestled close to his side, dressed in the same wardrobe as his father, down to the tiny crown on his head.

  Standing behind them on either side was Malicar, Joseph the Prime Minister, and Edgar, the Commander of the Army—all of them clothed in the royal finery, which set them apart as the king's advisor
s.

  Cassandra turned toward Victor. “I’m scared,” she breathed.

  Victor took her hand tightly in his and slowly led her inside. She followed hesitantly as they stepped carefully before the throne. They bowed low then stood waiting for the ceremony to begin.

  Edgar stepped forward, stomping his large boots for emphasis as he towered over both children. “Victor, do you swear to honor, obey, serve, and protect Prince Matthew both now and when he takes the throne? Do you vow yourself to him until the day you die?”

  Victor glared at him, a wild sense of defiance hidden deep in his ice blue eyes. “Yes, I do,” he replied confidently.

  “Cassandra,” Malicar followed, remaining statue-like in his position. “Do you likewise swear to honor, obey, serve, and protect Prince Matthew both now and when he takes the throne? Do you vow yourself to him until the day you die?”

  Cassandra looked at Malicar, her heart racing in her chest. She glanced around to the others as she slipped her hand from Victor's and backed away from the group.

  “Cassandra,” Malicar warned sternly.

  “Malicar,” Thomas chided. “She is frightened. Cassandra, come here.”

  Cassandra timidly walked to his outstretched arms and buried her face into his chest as he held her tight. She did not understand why, but over the past week, this palace had become her home. She had grown to trust and love the king.

  “Do you understand what we are asking of you?” Thomas instructed her slowly.

  Staring up at him, Cassandra paused before nodding. Thomas whispered, “Do you swear?”