Angel Song

  Angel Song

  Sara Shanning

  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

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Breeon had not fallen, but she had lost her way. The path that would take her back to everything she knew was forgotten. Nor could she remember the things she knew that she should, no matter how hard she tried. It was an odd place to be, wandering with no direction, knowing you should have one.

  A melody without words played in her head as the cold of the earth began to touch her, a whisper over her skin that caused a curious tremble to flow through her body. A twinge began in her stomach she realized might be hunger and there were scents making the air seem alive in a way she was unfamiliar with.

  Breeon walked over the tangled web of the forest floor and through the towering rise of pines, snow mashing between her toes. Deep within her, something told her things were changing quickly and it would not be long before she could no longer continue as she was. If she could only remember where she had been going before she had forgotten...

  A flutter surfaced in her mind, then was quickly drawn back before she could quite grasp what the meaning of it was. She tried to understand where she was and for what purpose as she navigated the foliage that covered the forest floor.

  The longer she walked, the more the light that hovered around her dimmed, the deeper the shadows became in her mind, and the hazier her memory became until finally, there was nothing more than the forest and the cold, and a heavy silence that frightened her. The melody too, had quieted to only a faint hum in the far recesses of her mind.

  Shaking, clutching at her bare arms, Breeon stepped free of a gathering of trees and stared ahead at a log cabin with smoke drifting from the chimney. She watched the sky welcome the smoke, understanding dawning that smoke meant fire, and fire meant warmth.

  Pinecones pricked at the bottoms of her cold feet. If she had looked, she would have seen that the hem of her dress was torn and wet.

  The numbness was still there in her mind, shielding her from most of the pain. Still, the pain was enough to propel her forward to the cabin, up the steps and to the door.

  Here, she paused. Anyone watching would have noticed the last of the light around her fade, seen the shiny flecks of gold glimmering in her hair and on her skin wink out, and the majestic sheen of her already out-of-place dress become nothing more than a beautiful tattered gown, worn by a woman who had obviously lost her mind, wandering around in the woods without the proper attire.

  For Breeon, it was the end of who she had been and the beginning of who she was now.

  If one had asked, she would have been unable to answer whether she had knocked or not, or if the man who opened the door to her somehow had sensed she stood there, waiting for the light and warmth inside to breathe over her with the sweeping motion of the door.

  His eyes were startled, his gaze curious and a bit alarmed as they took in the long, tangled fall of hair and the cascading skirt of her dress, her only shield against the last days of the winter that enveloped everything beyond the stretch of his porch.

  Looking past her, he tried to determine where she could have come from. There was no horse. Footprints were clearly visible in the clinging snow leading back into the dense forest.

  He could not, of course, leave her standing there, and so he curled his hand around the cold skin of her upper arm and guided her inside to stand before the fire, leaving her to retrieve a blanket from the back of the settee to drape over her shoulders.

  The seam of her dress ran across the middle of her back and was low enough to reveal strange bruising and healed cuts near her shoulder blades.

  The bareness of her feet had not gone unnoticed over the short walk. There was no one to call for help and none of her injuries seemed to require immediate attention. The solitude was why he had sought his cabin and there would be no one to turn to.

  So instead he brewed hot water, watching as she sank down before the shifting shimmer of the fire and huddled into the blanket. Where she could possibly have come from was a mystery. There were no other homes for miles, no matter the direction one took. Therefore, he concluded that somehow whatever unit she had been with had perhaps come across trouble and he would question her when color was back in her cheeks.

  He brought her tea, kneeling between her and the flames. Her eyes when she lifted them were the same color as the lighter topaz of the fire and he was unsure at first if it was the reflection, or if her eyes were flecked with gold.

  “The tea will warm you,” he urged as he held it out.

  She was hesitant in taking it, her hand emerging from the blanket slowly to touch the side of the mug as though she were unsure of what it was.

  The heat against her fingers was like bringing the fire closer to her and Breeon curled both of her hands around the cup, peering down into the liquid.

  She had seen people drink, and those images surfaced and told her what to do. There was honey in the vapor that she found pleasant and oddly familiar. Unable to recall why that whispered as gently as the steam from the tea, she sipped with a soft sigh, finding the struggle to remember exhausting.

  Like the blanket around her shoulders and the flames before her, the tea soothed the cold of the winter wrapped around her and made her weary.

  She was hardly aware of the man near her as she drank.

  He was busy moving the settee closer to the fire and spreading another blanket over the cushions. She seemed half asleep to him when he took the almost empty mug from her, and she did not argue when he suggested she lie down to sleep. Not knowing what to do about the wetness of her hem, he watched her as she curled into the blanket and settled her cheek on a pillow.

  He could not recall when he had ever seen a woman so beautiful. A story from his youth came to mind, about creatures of light that appeared for a short time. He smiled, knowing the tale was for what it was and aware that she was nothing more than a woman graced with exceptional features.

  There were many questions to be answered, of course, but he reminded himself she did not seem to be hurt and there was little he could do at such a late hour.

  He added more wood to the fire and left her for his own bed. Tomorrow he would worry about her appearance and what he would have to do about it.

  Her arrival was placing him in a precarious position. Few knew of his whereabouts, but always he had to think about his reputation. Morally, he would turn away no one in need, male or female, but the lack of a chaperone put him at a disadvantage.

  If anyone else was present, there would be no need for his concern, but on his own with her, even the arrival of one of his men would mean consequences neither he nor the mysterious woman were prepared for, no matter what the explanation for how she had come to be in his cabin.

  He had been gone mere days. It seemed now he would have to make the choice to leave, to discover where she
had come from and return her there, and then return to his own home and forget she had ever knocked on his door at all.

  Chapter Two

  Enlin tossed the pieces of split wood in his hands toward the pile on the ground, frowning at the two approaching horses on the path, bearing his men. This was exactly what he had been afraid of.

  Rylan alone would have made things easier, but Telphee was adamant about duty and would have zero regard for the circumstances.

  Bending to gather wood, Enlin filled his arms and climbed the stairs to the door. The woman had been sleeping when he had exited the cabin. The sound of the axe may have awakened her. Either way, he hoped to have time to warn her of what was coming next.

  She was awake, her topaz eyes cloudy with sleep and confusion. Her cheeks were no longer as pale as silk sheets, but were rosy. Her long hair was messy, but not in an unappealing way.

  If things had been different, Enlin might have felt himself drawn to her if they had met under normal circumstances. As things were, he had defied convention for many years already, and a pretty face was not enough to sway him.

  Crossing to the fireplace, he tumbled the split logs in his arms onto the pile and turned to her. Outside the door, boots thudded against wood and one of the horses snuffled.

  “I should warn you...” Enlin began, but her head had turned at the sound of the horse and a look of delight had come over her. She tossed the blanket aside to rise and was at the door and opening it before Enlin realized her intent.

  The look of surprise on Rylan’s face was comical, but Enlin could find no mirth to chuckle, for beside Rylan, Telphee’s face had morphed from a fierce frown, to confusion, to triumph.

  Without a single word being spoken, Enlin knew that a victory would not be his. Telphee would have his way. Still, he steeled himself for a fight and moved to stand behind the woman.

  “Sir?” Rylan, of course, would give him the grace to offer an explanation.

  Telphee lifted a hand, shaking his head with narrowed eyes. “Her appearance is enough on its own to condemn you. You needn’t bother with an explanation.”

  Enlin addressed Rylan. “She came to the door last night, dressed as she is. No shoes, no covering. I haven’t any idea where she has come from. She was still sleeping... on the settee... when I left the cabin this morning.”

  “It matters not,” Telphee stated firmly. “Milady, please sit. We have much to discuss.” Telphee indicated the woman should precede them. Enlin thought she swayed a bit.

  “Are you well?” Rylan asked, leaning forward slightly to peer more closely at the woman. Enlin moved closer to her side, placing a hand around her arm to steady her, fearing she would faint.

  “I do not seem to remember,” she said softly. Her voice was melodic and entrancing. Enlin stared at her profile, wishing that she would continue.

  The impatience was obvious when Telphee spoke, “What is it you do not remember? That you are not well? You realize that makes absolutely no sense at all.” He waved a hand at Enlin. “Take her to a seat.”

  She lifted her eyes to his and Enlin wondered if he had ever looked into eyes so clear or innocent. If his mind had not been quite so focused on the scenario playing out, he may have seen beyond the color of her irises a light that still shone, further setting her apart from any others he had looked into.

  Instead, resigned, Enlin asked her gently if she would sit and she complied, with one more glance toward the door as Rylan shut it before following them to sit as well.

  “Milord, you must know what I am going to say.” Telphee had always relished his position of upholder, the vast bank of knowledge about the rules and propriety of the Kingdom his one gift. There was no one else that rivaled his expansive expertise and so he had long maintained his position.

  Enlin tried to think of something that would be sufficient to persuade Telphee away from his course.

  Telphee addressed the woman. “Milady, do you understand who this man is?”

  “Should I remember him?” she asked curiously.

  A look was exchanged between Rylan and Telphee. Rylan lifted a hand to stop Telphee from speaking. His rank was higher, although he did not often use it to gain the advantage. “Milady, could you please explain to us where you have hailed from?”

  “I am sorry, but I do not remember.”

  “You came from the woods,” Enlin pressed. “Surely you were with a group? Did you get separated? Were you overtaken by someone who meant harm?”

  From outside of the cabin, one of the horses made a noise again.

  Her eyes dashed to the door and her hand lifted to touch her mouth. “I do believe I would like to speak to the horses.” A small smile spread beneath her fingers.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Milady,” Telphee scoffed. “One does not speak to horses.”

  The smile faded and her hand fell back to settle in her lap. She looked at Telphee, her eyes blinking, her mouth slightly parted. She contemplated his words, one part of her mind rejecting the possibility as untrue, but if he was saying it was true, why would he lie?

  She had listened to the soft nickers of the horses, feeling a flutter of joy wing to life inside of her each time. She longed to run her hand over one, to feel the power and gentle spirit. Was that also not the truth? Perhaps she knew nothing at all about horses.

  Breeon felt cold suddenly and wished she were closer to the fire or had the softness of the blanket still around her.

  She did not understand the presence of the two new arrivals before her. They seemed quite serious, but she did not know why.

  “Let us skip the pleasantries, shall we?” Telphee stood, clasping his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at the woman. “You and the Prince have been alone in this cabin, without a chaperone. Of course, this puts both of your reputations in a compromised position. There is only one solution.”

  Enlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could not in good conscience allow the woman to be ruined when nothing at all had happened. Nor could he speak in front of Telphee and Rylan the truth about why he had to find another way than what he knew Telphee had already determined would happen. And so, he held his tongue.

  “I believe I knew a Prince once...”

  Opening his eyes, Enlin looked at her in surprise. He knew all of the neighboring Kingdom’s Princes and surrounding aristocracy. If she was of noble birth, he would have come across her at some time in his life.

  There had been peace among the Kingdoms for decades and so it was common to celebrate together. In past years there had been far more intent behind the festivities as the King had become more persistent in his pursuit of a bride for his son.

  Enlin knew he would not have forgotten her if he had met her before. Which meant she was not of noble birth. He snapped his gaze to Telphee. Would this matter? It would leave her in ruin, but would save both of them from a destiny he had done everything he could to avoid.

  Telphee gave him a tight smile, his next words showing he had guessed the direction of Enlin’s thoughts. “Her dress and manner speak of noble birth, Milord. Your hopes have no foundation.” He stood and addressed Rylan. “Let us prepare for the journey back. I will care for the horses. You see to the Prince and the Lady.”

  Enlin rose and went to the kitchen. He put on the kettle and then began to put together some bread, cheese and several thick slices of ham. It was too early for such fare, but he guessed she may not have eaten for awhile, and they had a long journey ahead.

  Rylan had followed him. “Do you know who she is, Milord?” he asked in a low voice.

  Enlin shook his head. “Telphee moves too quickly. We must inquire of the neighboring Kingdoms. Somewhere, she has a home, and her family must be worried about her. There is no need for such drastic consequences at this point.”

  “He will allow you no other choice, Prince.” Rylan poured the tea and followed Enlin with the mugs back to the hearth.

  Enlin set the tray down and sat across from the woman. “Co
uld you tell us your name?”

  He watched her contemplate his question, her brows drawing in for a few moments before her eyes brightened and she smiled.

  “Yes! It is Breeon.”

  Enlin glanced at Rylan, who gave a small shake of his head. It was not a common name, nor was it one he had heard before in any of the surrounding Kingdoms. Could she have come from further away? And how would she have ended up wandering alone in the woods with no escort or procession?

  “I am Rylan, aide and Royal Guard to the Prince.” He indicated the man at his side. “This is, of course, Prince Enlin. Telphee is the man outside caring for the horses. Could you tell us where you hail from, Lady Breeon?” Rylan handed her a mug of the tea.

  Again, the confusion clouded over her face. This time, no light lit her eyes, no smile came to her lips. She shook her head. “I cannot.”

  “You must have family looking for you,” Rylan suggested, pushing the tray a bit closer to her.

  Breeon looked at the contents on the tray in front of her, her mind supplying the names of the offerings even though she had never tasted any of them. She understood that she was to eat and reached for a piece of the thickly sliced cheese.

  It was strange to touch, soft but firm, and the scent and taste were sharp. She liked it immensely. The tea she already knew she liked.

  Content, she finished the small piece she had taken and smiled at both of the men watching her. “It is very good.” She had forgotten the question they had asked.

  “Lady Breeon, please tell me you are comprehending what will soon happen in your future?” Rylan asked, his face serious.