The Indentured Queen
The Indentured Queen
CAROL MONCADO
Copyright © 2018 Carol Moncado
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 — for example, electronic, photocopy, recording, for personal or commercial purposes — without written permission of the author(s). The only exception is for brief quotations in printed or electronic reviews.
This is a work of fiction set in a fictionalized southwest Missouri and a redrawn, fictionalized Europe & Atlantic Ocean. Any resemblance to real events or to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Any reference to historical figures, places, or events, whether fictional or actual, is a fictional representation.
Tamara Schmanski (writing as Tamara Leigh), holds all rights to the Wulfen Castle, the Wulfrith family, and the Wulfrith dagger of the Age of Faith series referenced in this novel and are used with the author’s permission.
Crown Prince Theodore of Valdoria and Princess Alexandra of Litiania are property of Julia Keanini and used with permission.
Cover photos: Copyright: Sonyachny/DepositPhotos
Author photo: Captivating by Keli, 2010
First edition, CANDID Publications, 2018
For Allen
The original Wheelchair Preacher
My second cousin
No matter how distant the relationship, we are family.
I am so incredibly thankful for the invention of Facebook and the connection we made over the last few years. I am eternally grateful for the family reunion in Baton Rouge and for the hours we spent together in Tyler, even if you were in the hospital.
I loved every minute of getting to know you and your exuberant spirit.
Your love for your friends, your family, and, most importantly, your Savior
was infectious and inspiring.
I wanted to do you justice and know I didn’t even come close.
10/22/85-1/25/18
They say it’s all about how you live your dash.
You lived yours to the fullest.
We miss you but rejoice that you’ve been made whole.
You ran your race.
You finished your course.
I can only imagine the joy on your face when you heard
“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
I love you, cuz. Now and always.
This one’s for you.
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
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Letter to Readers
Acknowledgments
Her Undercover Prince Preview
Love for the Ages Preview
About the Author
Other Books by Carol Moncado
1
In forty-eight hours, King Benjamin James Timothy would be in complete control of his household for the first time.
He strode through the wide hallways of the Eyjanian palace toward his uncle’s quarters.
The quarters that Isaiah should be in the process of vacating.
It had only been a few hours since he’d stood up to his uncle for the first time at the Mevendian Founders’ Ball held at the Eyjanian home of Prince William and Princess Margaret of Mevendia. Benjamin’s security team knew the instructions he’d given Isaiah. Benjamin also knew Isaiah likely wouldn’t follow them without force.
A maid he didn’t recognize scurried down the hall, stopping just long enough for a quick curtsy. Benjamin barely noticed. Staff members, outside of senior staff members, were to be seen and not heard, and not seen whenever possible.
Someone else, just out of Benjamin’s line of sight, ducked through an open door. Good. He didn’t like to be disturbed. Most of the staff knew to get of the way before he was close enough to see them.
“Is he packing?” One of Benjamin’s most trusted guards stood outside the door.
“Unlikely, sir.” Thor bowed slightly at the waist. “I haven’t heard any noise coming from inside his quarters.”
“And the tunnels are sealed off?”
“I have a man inside each of the tunnels leading from these quarters, and another at the exits. They report in every fifteen minutes. He won’t be able to get anything out of here those ways.” Thor knew Benjamin would hold him personally responsible if Isaiah did make off with anything.
“Good.” Benjamin stared at the door and wondered about going in. No. Not now. Tomorrow, if there were no indications of movement, he would enter and remove his uncle from the premises. Rather, he would have Isaiah removed. He had people to do that.
He retraced his steps until he reached the Rainbow Reception Room. Across the room, in front of a wall between the floor-to-ceiling windows, a dagger sat encased in a glass cube.
The knight’s dagger belonging to King Alfred the First.
Sent to train at Wulfen Castle in England, Alfred had obtained what many aspired to, but few ever achieved - knighthood from the Wulfriths, the most esteemed family to ever bestow knighthood. The story had been handed down for nearly a millennia in the form of legend. The ruby at the cross between the hilt and the guard, winked in the dim lighting. His ancestor was the stuff of legend himself, but even he didn’t compare to those who trained him.
Would Benjamin have been found worthy of such a dagger?
He’d known this dagger existed, was in this room, for as long as he could remember, but it wasn’t until after Christmas that he started to come stare at it. Not until King Edward of San Majoria had lectured him at Christmas had Benjamin spent time wondering if he would be worthy.
If he was a worthy successor to both King Alfred the First and King Alfred the Second.
Benjamin’s father.
The first note of music didn’t surprise him. Neither did the second. Or the crescendo that built. By turns, the sounds of excitement, danger, happiness, anger, despair, and finally joy filled not only the room but Benjamin’s soul.
King Alfred’s Overture had been written by an Eyjanian composer several hundred years earlier.
Eventually, the resolution trailed away to nothing.
This time Benjamin heard the scraping of the piano bench and footsteps walking away.
“Halt!”
The gasp from the pianist, whoever it was, said his suspicions were correct. His presence had been undetected.
He turned to see a young woman across the room. Her back was to him, but based on her uniform, she worked in one of the industrial kitchens. “Turn around.”
She did, but didn’t raise her head.
A few steps brought him closer to her. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir.” She dropped into a deep curtsy. “My apologies for disturbing your time, sir.”
“Do you have permission to play in here?” He already knew the a
nswer. No one did outside of rare special events.
“No, sir.”
“Is this the first time?”
Her hesitation told him the answer before her word. “No.”
“You work in the kitchen?”
“Yes, sir.”
Something about her drew him closer, and he took a step into her personal space. “Look at me,” he commanded.
She finally raised her chin and met his gaze. Her eyes, the color of chocolate, were guarded.
“What’s your name?”
“Katrín.”
“Do you know where my office is, Katrín?”
Her face tilted downward. “Yes, sir.” Her voice sounded resigned.
To what?
Crooking his finger under her chin, he tipped her face back up. “I have some business to take care of. Be waiting for me when I return, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
Before she could say anything, he kissed her, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck as his other arm slipped around her waist. Her hands clutched his jacket, holding him to her as much as he held her to him.
He’d long been told that, as king, he could request this kind of thing from his female staff members and expect their acquiescence, but he’d never availed himself of it before. Something about this girl drew him, though, differently than any one before.
Benjamin pulled her more tightly against him before letting his lips leave hers, brushing kisses lightly along her jawline toward her ear.
“Come to my office in an hour. We’ll forget all about this.”
He felt her fingers tighten on the sides of his jacket. Unsure what it meant, he loosened his hold.
“No.”
“Pardon?”
She pushed him away. “My terms of indenture do not extend to that.”
Benjamin straightened his jacket. “Then I will have to speak with Mr. Bond and see that your services are terminated.”
The look in her eyes changed to icy flames, as she laughed, dousing any attraction he might have felt. “I’m afraid not. Short of attempting to kill your royal self, I cannot be terminated for at least a decade.”
He crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes narrowed. “Why is that?”
“My family owes yours a debt. My services fulfill our end of the deal until the debt is paid.” She spun on her heel. “But I don’t have to acquiesce to those kinds of demands.”
He watched her leave, then went to Mr. Bond’s office. The head of kitchen staff confirmed what the girl said.
“Demote her as far as you can,” Benjamin ordered.
“I cannot, sir. I would, but she’s already the lowest member of my staff, likely the lowest member of all staff in the palace. The only way she could not be would be someone else with an indenture greater than hers.”
“And a transfer somewhere else? The stables? Mucking out stalls?” Even he’d done that a time or two when he’d gotten in trouble before he became king.
“A promotion. Caring for the royal horses is an honor.”
It irritated Benjamin, but it didn’t appear he could do anything about it.
He left the kitchen offices and went to the executive wing. Though he’d spent the evening at the Mevendian Founders’ Ball, he did have work to do, especially to make sure Isaiah didn’t have access to anything he shouldn’t.
It was not the time to dwell on the embers long stoked but fanned by that kiss. His ability to compartmentalize was learned, but necessary. It would be more difficult than ever.
Time to work.
Katrín sank against the door of her room as she locked it behind her.
She’d seen the king from a distance before, but had never actually spoken with him. Certainly she’d never kissed him. Or turned down his advances. She’d never heard of anyone else who had.
If she thought long enough, she’d never heard stories of other female members of the staff being summoned to his office for anything other than actual business, and that rarely enough. But Katrín was mostly an outcast, even among the lowest of the kitchen staff. Seldom did anyone speak to her when they didn’t have to.
She didn’t have much experience, but that kiss told her he clearly had more - or he was really good at faking confidence at something as intimate as kissing. The desire that had unexpectedly coursed through her had shocked her even as she knew she wouldn’t acquiesce to his demand.
His request.
As infuriated as it was, he hadn’t actually demanded anything of her.
Temptation had been too much. The red grand piano called to her far too often. It really had only been a matter of time before someone found out. She’d gotten too complacent. Before she’d always carefully looked around the room to make sure she was alone. This time, she’d assumed. The king was gone for the evening. Everyone’s attention had been drawn to the other end of the palace for one reason or another. She’d thought it was safe.
Her gaze settled on the keyboard on the other side of the room. Found cheap by her mother at an estate sale, the keys weren’t weighted. They didn’t feel the same as a real piano. The only good thing that could be said for it was that the speakers didn’t work. She could plug a headset in, but she couldn’t accidentally make too much noise and get in trouble for disturbing her neighbors.
Not many people lived down here, though. Mostly, they lived in other parts of the servants’ quarters or in the city. Her mother had lived in the city when she worked for the palace. She still did, along with Katrín’s sister and brother. Her sister had recently taken a job at a new house, for the Crown Prince of Mevendia. Katrín didn’t know what the position was, but knew the job was a good one.
For actual money.
As terms of her indenture, Katrín made little money, but received room and board and two half days off a month. Or was supposed to. She rarely did. When had she had a full day off? Ever?
Five years since she came to the palace to live, hugged her mother goodbye, and walked away without looking back. She hadn’t seen any of them since. They wrote old fashioned letters, mailing them once or twice a week. Katrín tended to get them every few weeks, though she mailed them more often than that. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think someone in the mail room was out to get her and didn’t deliver her mail as soon as it arrived. She rarely ventured to the upper basement where a whole town existed. A post office, ATM, security station manned by both local police and palace security forces, a theater, even a commissary for those who lived on property. Katrín could shop there, but anything she spent was subtracted before her bi-weekly pay was deducted from what her mother owed.
What she owed.
After about ten minutes, she picked herself up and got ready for bed. At least she had a small washroom of her own. The shower fit her, though she wouldn’t fit if her hard work didn’t ensure she remained slender.
The windowless, soulless room had been her refuge, her haven, the last five years, but tonight the walls seemed to close in on her.
Two days went by and the walls didn’t come crumbling down. Mr. Bond didn’t glare at her any more than usual, though he glared constantly so it wasn’t saying much.
Tuesday, four days after she turned down the king’s advances, whispers around the kitchen caught her attention. No one talked to her, though not many people did with any regularity.
“Katrín!”
She looked up from the sink where she was up to her elbows in soap suds. “Yes, sir?”
“Your presence is required in the executive offices.” Mr. Bond’s hard stare told her he likely knew about her piano excursions and wished she could be demoted. Too bad she was already the lowest rung on the totem pole of the palace.
Katrín shook the suds off her hands then wiped them on the apron. They weren’t dry, but they seldom were. With a tug of the strings, she took it off and hung it on the hook reserved for her apron.
A severe looking security guard escorted her from the industrial kitchen toward the stairs. She knew the
layout of most of the palace, but he took the lead. As they reached the top of the first set of stairs, another guard fell in place behind her. Did they think she was going to steal something? Run off?
The next set of stairs were the tallest in the palace - and most intimidating - and led to the royal offices.
The guard in front held the door to the executive office wing open and let her walk in on her own. A severe looking man stood up from behind a desk. Slender with a dark gray mustache to counterbalance his white hair, his eyes were nearly ice blue. “This way, please.” His unexpectedly deep voice caught her off-guard.
A door, one that extended from the floor nearly to the sixteen-foot ceiling, opened when the assistant leaned his entire weight against it, the royal crest splitting in half as it did.
It took all of Katrín’s self-control not to gape at the opulent scene in front of her. Her room could fit inside the office a dozen times, maybe more. The desk, situated a few feet from the center of the wall opposite the door, was bigger than the bed she slept on.
King Benjamin didn’t stand, didn’t even look up, as she walked in. With no other instructions, she just stood and waited for him to notice her arrival.
Katrín looked at the wall of windows to her left, with an impressive view of Akushla beyond. While she waited, she studied the paintings, including one of his parents’ wedding and one of his official coronation after he turned eighteen.
“Are you planning to stand there all day?” He made a note on the piece of paper in front of him.