Read The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) Online
Authors: Jayne Castel
The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) (27 page)
The Deepening Night
The
Kingdom of the East Angles, Book 3
Buy now from Amazon (Kindle or
in paperback)
Spring
630 AD and Saewara, sister to the King of Mercia, has just lost her husband.
Finally free of a cruel bully, Saewara wishes to take the veil and retire to a
life of peace and solitude.
But,
the king destroys her plans when he orders her to remarry – to her people’s
enemy.
Saewara
will wed Annan of the Wuffingas, the King of the East Angles. Following his
kingdom’s humiliating defeat to Mercia six months earlier, Annan must ‘bend the
knee’ to his new lord. However, what begins as a forced marriage develops into
a slow-burning passion between Annan and Saewara. Two proud individuals, they
must come to terms with more than an unwanted marriage.
A
woman of quiet, indomitable will, Saewara leaves her past behind and attempts
to forge a new life for herself as Queen of the East Angles – but her fragile
happiness risks destruction by the ambitions of her ruthless brother.
FREE KINDLE BONUS!
Discover
the love story that began it all…
Night Shadows
As a special
bonus for readers of
The Breaking Dawn
, this edition also includes the
novella,
Night Shadows
. Read about how Merwenna’s parents – Wilfrid and
Cynewyn – fall in love just over twenty years before Dylan and Merwenna’s love
story begins.
Night Shadows
A NOVELLA
BRITAIN -
619 AD
Cynewyn – an
ealdorman's widow – has had enough of men ruling her fate. She dreams of making
a fresh start, of running her own hall. But, her plans must wait, as the king
has just ordered Cynewyn to abandon her village.
Among the men
escorting her and the surviving villagers back over the border is her former
suitor, Wilfrid. Ten years earlier, Cynewyn spurned Wil, in favor of a more
confident and charming man. Humiliated, Wil left her father's hall, never to
return.
A decade later,
time has changed them both. Cynewyn is no longer spoiled and sheltered. Wil has
spent years fighting at his king's side - but he has never forgotten Cynewyn,
or stopped loving her. Intent on being no man's property, Cynewyn initially
denies the powerful connection between them – yet, when the king takes her
freedom from her once again, she realizes that the passionate man from her past
holds the key to her future.
Read the
full novella below…
Night Shadows
A NOVELLA
A historical
romance set in Anglo-Saxon England
Prequel to The
Kingdom of the East Angles series
Jayne Castel
All characters and situations
in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is
purely coincidental.
Night Shadows
by Jayne Castel
Copyright © 2014 Jayne
Castel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission
of the author.
Edited by Tim Burton.
Cover
photography courtesy of
www.istockphotos.com
.
Cover
design by vikncharlie:
http://www.fiverr.com/vikncharlie
Maps courtesy of Wikipedia.
Anglo-Saxon riddle courtesy
of:
http://www.regia.org/games.htm
Visit Jayne’s website and
blog:
www.jaynecastel.com
Follow Jayne on Twitter at:
@JayneCastel
***
For all the romantics in the world – for those who
believe in second chances.
***
Contents
Chapter Two – An Awkward Reunion
Chapter Three – Departure from Blackhill
Chapter Four – Refuge in the Woods
Chapter Seven – No Longer Alone
Chapter Eight – Return to Rendlaesham
Chapter Nine – The King’s Will
Excerpt from
Dark Under the Cover of Night
Here is my secret. It is very simple:
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is
invisible to the eye.
Antoine
de Saint Exupéry
Prologue
The
Proposal
The
village of Went, the Kingdom of the East Angles – Britannia
Spring
609 AD
The squeals of children playing in the dirt in
front of the hall, echoed through the warm air. A glorious spring day was
coming to a close. The sun cast a honeyed light across the village of Went,
staining the timber and thatch of the surrounding houses a deep gold. The
children – three boys and a girl – raced each other excitedly around the wide
space in the center of the village, shouting with delight.
Cynewyn paused from scattering grain for the geese
that clustered at her feet, and watched the children with a smile, enjoying
their enthusiasm and joy. Not so long ago, she had been one of those children;
now she had left that carefree life behind.
Cynewyn
stood before her father’s hall, lingering at her task. She glanced up at the
wide amber-streaked sky. The sun was a balm on her skin after weeks of rain and
cold. Emptying her pot of grain, Cynewyn was about to retreat inside, when she
spied a well-built young man with short, light-brown hair striding across the
yard toward her. His face was set with purpose.
Wilfrid was of the same age as her – eighteen
winters – and he was staring at Cynewyn with unnerving intensity. Other men
laughed and flirted, but not Wilfrid. He took everything, including himself,
seriously. He appeared to be making directly for her, and Cynewyn had little
choice but to await his arrival.
Judging from the intensity of his gaze, the tense
set of his shoulders and the resolute determination of his stride – Wilfrid of
Went was preparing himself for a confrontation.
“Good evening, Cynewyn,” he greeted her. His voice,
a low rumble for a man of his age, always took Cynewyn by surprise. She had
never heard him raise his voice, and when he spoke, it was always with
unwavering purpose. Unlike the men in her family, who were garrulous and loud,
Wilfrid used words sparingly.
“Evening, Wil,” she replied pleasantly, meeting his
stare. She noticed that his hazel eyes looked almost green in this light. “‘Tis
a while since I saw you last.”
“I’ve been away,” Wilfrid replied simply, his gaze
becoming even more penetrating.
Cynewyn felt her body grow hot and uncomfortable
under his stare. He looked at her like he was about to devour her; the hunger
in his eyes made Cynewyn flush. She stepped back from him and gave a
flirtatious smile in an attempt to lighten the mood between them.
“Away? Where?”
“On the border – our neighbors are making trouble
again,” he replied, before glancing down at the ground, his face awkward. “I
missed you.”
Cynewyn hid her embarrassment with another smile.
She was not sure how he expected her to respond. She had not missed him at
all. Why would she? Still, his infatuation made her feel beautiful and
desirable, and she found herself enjoying the attention.
“How gallant of you,” she returned his gaze through
her lashes, noticing the way his gaze traveled from her eyes down to her mouth.
“Why did you miss me?”
Wilfrid reddened slightly at the question. He was
obviously not used to flirting, and was not sure how to respond.
“I missed seeing you,” he eventually managed. Then,
he blurted. “I want to ask your father’s permission for us to wed. If he says
‘yes’, will you marry me, Cynewyn?”
She stared back at him, taken aback by the
proposal. He really was no fun at all. She had been enjoying the attention
until he ruined things.
In truth, she had no interest in Wilfrid. Not only
was he of a low rank, but he was too quiet, intense and humorless for her
tastes. He always wore an expression as if he bore the weight of the world upon
his shoulders. Besides, Cynewyn had already been promised to Aldwulf, the
charismatic son of an ealdorman who lived in the neighboring village. Blond,
handsome and charming, Aldwulf never failed to make her laugh. She had been
delighted when her father suggested the match.
Silence stretched between Cynewyn and Wil, before
he stepped closer still and gently took her hand. It was the first time he had
ever touched her. His hand was warm, dry and strong. The sensation of their
skin touching gave Cynewyn a jolt in the pit of her belly – it was an oddly
stirring sensation. Nonetheless, Cynewyn had to resist the urge to jerk her
hand from his.
“Will you?” he repeated.
Cynewyn gave Wil a sweet smile and extracted her
hand from his. She took two steps back, almost treading on a goose in her
haste. The bird gave an enraged hiss and flapped at her.
“You will have to ask my father,” she replied,
lowering her eyes demurely, for she knew exactly what her father’s response
would be. “If he agrees, I will marry you.”
Wilfrid smiled then. The expression transformed his
face, making him look handsome.
“I will ask him then,” he told her, his discomfort
dissolving. “I will do it now.”
Then, without another word, Wilfrid turned and
strode into her father’s hall.
Cynewyn watched him go, incredulous. The man’s
presumption stunned her. He was low-born. Did he really think he could wed an
ealdorman’s daughter? How could he have mistaken her light-hearted flirting for
real interest?
Picking up her skirts, for she did not wish to miss
a moment of what was about to unfold under her father’s roof, Cynewyn followed
her suitor inside.
Eomer of Went was sitting at a long table with his
men. He was playing
Hnefatafl,
‘King’s Table’; a game where two players
moved wooden pieces across a board with twenty-six squares in an attempt to
capture the king of the opposing player. He was exchanging good-natured threats
with the warrior playing him, when Cynewyn entered the hall at Wilfrid’s heels.
Skirting the shadows, Cynewyn made her way over to
where her mother was sitting near the fire pit, weaving a tapestry at a huge
loom. Silently, Cynewyn took a seat beside her and picked up her distaff. She
then resumed the task she had spent the afternoon at before escaping outside to
feed the geese and enjoy the sunset – winding wool onto the wooden spindle.
“Wilfrid!” Eomer boomed, his gaze resting on the
young man who had stopped before the table. “Fancy a game, eh?”
“M’lord,” Wilfrid began. His voice cracked
slightly, betraying his nerves. “No, this evening. I have come to ask your
permission.”
Eomer of Went inclined his head, his blond eyebrows
raising. “For what, lad?”
The hall went still then; all gazes fastening on
Wilfrid. Suddenly, Cynewyn felt an unexpected pang of pity for the youth. He
might be arrogant, but she did not envy him his impending humiliation.
“I wish to wed your daughter.”
Wilfrid’s voice, although quiet, echoed in the
shocked silence. Cynewyn stared at her father and felt a brief surge of panic
at the blank expression she saw there.
What if he agreed? She had not paused to consider
that possibility.
A moment passed and then Eomer’s face creased into
a smile, a pitying one. Relief flooded through Cynewyn and she breathed once
more.
“You would not be the first lad who has taken a
shine to my comely daughter,” he said, shaking his head. “Yet she is promised
to another. Did she not tell you?”
The look on Wilfrid’s face caused some of the other
warriors present to snigger.
“Who?” Wilfrid finally managed when he had recovered
from the shock.
“Aldwulf of Blackhill,” Eomer replied, giving
Wilfrid a patronizing smile. “He’s an ealdorman’s son – you’re a free man with
a spear like your father before you. I can’t wed my only daughter to a man of
such a low rank. You understand?”
“No,” Wilfrid replied, his voice flat and harsh, “I
don’t.” His gaze shifted to Cynewyn then. Their gazes met and for an instant,
Cynewyn saw his naked anger and humiliation.
You knew
, that gaze
accused her.
You knew and didn’t warn me
.
“I may not be high-born,” Wilfrid turned his
attention back to the ealdorman, “but I am one of your warriors. I have served
you loyally and will continue to do so. I would protect your daughter with my
life.”
Eomer roared with laughter at that. His warriors
joined him; and the sound echoed mockingly through the hall.
“I’m sure you would,” Eomer straightened up, still
holding his belly, although his tone held a warning that he was tiring of this
conversation, “but the answer still is no. You are not worthy of her.”
Wilfrid’s breath hissed between his clenched teeth.
His face was flushed and his eyes glittered with rage.
“I’m as worthy of her as any man!” he snarled.
“Careful, lad,” the ealdorman warned, the amusement
draining from his face. “You’re over-stepping the mark. Now, off you go. Let me
get back to my game.”
“If I’m not worthy of Cynewyn, then I’m not worthy
to serve you!” Wilfrid replied, not moving.
A deathly hush settled over the hall. All gazes
were upon Wilfrid as the young man removed the two bronze arm rings he wore on
his right bicep and hurled them to the rush-matting at his feet. They were
rings that the ealdorman had gifted him for his loyalty and valor.
“As you reminded me – I am a free man,” Wilfrid
ground out. Eomer stared back at him, momentarily struck speechless. “I serve
whom I choose. From this moment on, I no longer follow you.”
With that, Wilfrid turned and, not sparing another
glance in Cynewyn’s direction, stalked from the hall and out of their lives.
