Man Who Should be King

Mlyn Hurn

Syranna is a princess without a country of loyal followers.
When she was a child, her father sent her away to live with her maternal
grandfather for protection while he waged a war. Now the war is over, and one
of the king’s former knights tricks her into returning to the realm with a
message for the new ruler. Once there, she discovers the new ruler doesn’t want
to let her go.

She’s not a woman to be dictated to and escapes to the
moon-world that had been her mother’s home. Here she lives in the mist-laden,
myth-shrouded land known as Mystonia. When Lord Marcus comes in search of his
queen, he soon discovers that two of the most common myths just might be true.
The little gray-haired man with the knee-length beard really is a wizard. And
Syranna’s pets blow flame if you don’t handle them carefully.

Publishe’s Note: Originally appeared in the
Crown
Jewels
anthology.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica
Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Man Who Should be King

ISBN 9781419925740

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Man Who Should be King Copyright 2004 Mlyn Hurn

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication 2004

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The
characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

The world was so different since Syranna had last been home.
It looked the same, basically, on the surface. The distant mountain range was
rocky, steep and treacherous to climbers who refused to listen to the warnings
issued yearly. In the far distance, high in the sky, the two companion planets,
which had often been known as moons in ancient recorded histories, circled the
planet, signaling day and night every day as they always had the last ten
millennia of recorded history. Across the lush, flat farmlands that composed
much of this world, life was good and rich, and provided abundantly for those
who lived there. For the mountain people, life was much harder, harsher and
more deadly to just survive another day.

The wars had ended over a year ago, and many people were
finally moving on with their lives, repairing their homes, their bodies, and
what remained of their former livelihood. All of that took time and money.
Money was a commodity the new leader had in abundance, or so she’d heard. He
was also a fair ruler, as the majority of inhabitants would agree. Some would
not, but they were a very small, basically quiet minority.

Sir Marcus, the new liege lord, was busy instituting many
changes on all three worlds that were making life better for nearly everyone.
Why, even the mountain people were benefiting, which truly was a first. Sir
Marcus the Bold was by far the most popular liege lord ever. He had come up
from the ranks, and when the uprising had been defeated and the old liege lord
had been killed in the final battle, it had seemed the most natural thing for
Sir Marcus to ascend to his throne, and to now be known as Lord Marcus of
Vikalla. There were murmurings about having the official coronation, so he
could be crowned king.

Following the war, his entire legion of captains and
lieutenants, all of whom had supported him wholeheartedly, had been rewarded
with land entitlements. Some received royal titles or were offered
opportunities to continue with the newly formed peace-keeping forces.

Syranna turned away from the castle in the distance. It had
been a long, long time since she had last seen the mottled, golden-colored
stone edifice where she’d spent her earliest years. It didn’t help that she was
here against her will. She had not wanted to return to her home world even now
that peace had returned. It was her father, the former king, who had sent her
away when the first uprisings had begun over ten years ago. She had gone with a
small entourage of loyal servants and a few older soldiers to guard her.

Her life had been very quiet on the planet that circled her
home world. Her father had known that none of his enemies would ever think to
look for his only heir, Princess Syranna, on the moon-world of Kalledane. The
planet of Kalledane was a world covered mostly in lush green forests, rivers
and springs. It was a world of beauty, near-perfect climate, and for the most
part people on the sparsely populated planet were very happy.

It was common knowledge that people on the world of Vikalla
wondered and talked about the mysterious moon called Kalledane. With the war
going for so many years, travel had decreased and this had naturally increased
the mystique of Kalledane. Of course, the other moon planet, which circled
Vikalla the same as Kalledane, was a different story entirely. Kallas strongly
resembled Vikalla in appearance topographically, was larger than its sister
moon, and people traveled quite freely between those two planets. Still, since
the war’s end, vacation travel was slowly reestablishing itself between Vikalla
and Kalledane.

So, as far as King Thomas had been concerned, Kalledane
would be the perfect place to hide his daughter and only true heir to his
throne. He had told no one, not even his most trusted officers, where his
daughter had gone. Many assumed she had possibly died during one of the many
onslaughts on the castle, and the news had been hidden to protect the aging
king’s power. Of course, with his death, the questions had stopped and Sir
Marcus had easily ascended to the position of power and affluence, which among
the League of Planets was truly an enviable one.

Syranna knew that she could delay no longer. She spurred her
magnificent black stallion, and it reared back and began racing toward the
castle before she could change her mind. She was alone now. Her last companion
from her father’s entourage had passed away a little less than a month ago on
Kalledane. He had been a lifelong friend of her father’s. He was a good soldier
and eventually became a friend, not just a loyal subject, to her as well. He
had been a noble man indeed.

Sir Ralus, while he lay on his deathbed, had extracted one
final toll. “You must promise me, milady, that you will return home.”

Syranna recalled how she had barely begun to shake her head
negatively when the old man began speaking once more.

“You cannot deny a dying man his last wish, Princess. I have
dedicated my life to serving your father and keeping you safe.”

Syranna had squinted her eyes at his remark. She had spent
the majority of her life living with people forty to fifty years older than she
and she was no stranger to manipulation through guilt. “My life is here, Ralus.
That old way is no longer mine to claim. I didn’t struggle to make life better.
Instead, I’ve spent my life here, in near solitude, pretty much doing what I
want.”

“You must return to the castle, Princess Syranna. It is your
birthright, your destiny. You deserve to be the rightful ruler.”

“I have no desire for such things, Ralus. That was my
father’s family, and his life. I have chosen to live here, in the traditions of
my mother’s ancestors. Besides, I don’t like to make waves.”

Ralus had choked at her comment, which turned into a
body-racking cough. Quickly Syranna held a glass of water to his lips.

She did not want to go back. But rather than have Ralus
waste his last breaths arguing with her, Syranna reluctantly agreed to return
to the castle. Mentally she soothed her ruffled emotions by reminding herself
that the promise was to return, which didn’t mean she had to stay.

Returning to the present and stuffing her grief away for
later, Syranna concentrated on the final stretch of her journey. Not much
longer now…

People ran out of her way as she raced madly across the open
field that faced the castle. She was aware that many stared at the woman riding
the huge black horse, her blue-black hair trailing behind her in the wind.
Syranna knew that they wondered who would race so madly, when everyone traveled
slowly, unhurriedly, in these days of peace and harmony.

As she neared the lowered bridge that provided entrance to
the castle, her path was suddenly blocked by a row of very imposing soldiers.
Obviously her wild ride had not gone unnoticed from the castle walls. She
pulled her horse up a few feet from the soldiers.

A junior officer stepped forward, his hand resting on the
hilt of his sword, and demanded quite loudly, “Halt and state what business you
have within these castle walls.”

Syranna stared at the young soldier, her deep blue eyes
boring into him. Her voice was sure and strong when she spoke. “I am here with
a message for Sir Marcus.” She paused as the soldiers bristled because she had
not referred to Sir Marcus as her liege lord.

Another officer moved forward. This man was somewhat older
and more assured of his rank and stature. His hair was graying a bit at the
sides but he still possessed a strong, broad chest and appeared quite fit and
stalwart.

“And what kind of message could a slip of a girl such as you
have for our liege lord?” Sir William placed his hands aggressively on his
hips, his legs widespread.

He noted the young woman’s beauty and her voluptuous form as
she sat proudly atop the huge stallion. He didn’t fail to notice her full, firm
breasts, which thrust out proudly against the soft cloth of her dress. Her long
blue-black hair looked like ink-dyed silk. Her skin resembled the purest of
cream. Eyes that mirrored the bluest of skies stared back at him without
flinching. A man could very easily covet such a woman, if he were not already
deeply in love with a distant cousin of the former king. He had fallen in love
with the Lady Stancia from the first time he had met her, at the deathbed of
King Thomas.

He knew that Marcus would have difficulty keeping his hands
off this woman’s horse. Sir Marcus could easily claim the horse as his by liege
right, and it was well known that he was a great admirer of fine horseflesh. As
far as his liege lord keeping his hands off the woman, well, that was even less
likely.

He noted with interest that the young woman did not flinch
under his bold stare. She stiffened her spine, set her jaw and then slowly
withdrew a rolled slip of paper from a leather bag strapped across her chest.
As she passed it to him, he saw something that had not been seen for over a
year. It was the signet of Sir Thomas, the former liege lord and ruler of the
lands, that sealed the missive. How could this girl-child have a message sealed
by the last monarch?

William took the paper from her, studying the wax seal. It
most surely was genuine and did not appear to have been tampered with. He
looked up at the young woman. “Dismount, girl! I will escort you to the main
hall and then arrange a meeting with Lord Marcus.”

Syranna hesitated. Sir William could see the doubt and
distrust in her eyes. “Come along now, girl! We don’t have all day! I’ll make
sure your mount is well-tended while you meet with your liege lord.”

William turned away to speak to one of the soldiers. He
couldn’t swear to it, but it sounded as if the pert young woman muttered under
her breath as she dismounted, “He’s not
my
liege lord!”

As she neared him, William noted that she wasn’t as tall as
he’d thought when she’d been mounted on that big black stallion. As he gestured
for her to follow, she nodded her head, shifted her shoulders and her long
black hair fell to her waist, silken and lush. Turning, he led the way into the
castle grounds. He also noted that she kept up with him easily, in spite of his
being over a foot taller than she.

* * * * *

As Sir William entered the main hall, Lady Stancia saw him
and came racing, quite unladylike, over to him. She stopped abruptly a few feet
away when she noted the somber look on his face and the incredibly beautiful
woman at his side. For a moment, she knew that her jealousy must be quite
apparent on her face. Then she turned and really looked at the younger woman.

Lady Stancia took in the nearly perfect face and her deep,
dark blue eyes. For a moment, she frowned, trying to remember. There was
something about this woman that seemed familiar. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion
Stancia had often felt before. Yet the woman with William was beautiful enough
to make even the most confident of women a little uneasy. Then the younger
woman turned and their eyes met. Stancia couldn’t explain it, but suddenly she
knew there was no reason to be even the least bit jealous. Turning her gaze to
William, she welcomed him.

“Greetings to you, Sir William!” Stancia spoke warmly to her
betrothed.

William nodded, a smile curving his lips. Before he could
return her greeting, though, their presence had been noticed by the men seated
at the long wood table near the fireplace at the far end of the hall.

Lord Marcus was seated at the center of the long, heavy
wooden table, listening to the reports his officers were making of outlying
properties. Marcus stood, and all conversation stopped. Sir William motioned
for Syranna to wait, and he moved over to his friend. He handed the paper to
the other man, who was even taller and broader of chest and shoulder than he.

Marcus froze as he saw the signet seal of the former liege,
King Thomas. The signet ring had been buried with the old man. The paper,
though, looked rather old, and was torn at the edges, faded and worn. Instead
of opening the message, he walked past William and strode over to Syranna. His
voice was loud and demanding as he loomed over her small frame.

“What is the meaning of this? Is this some kind of joke?”

Marcus watched as the beautiful woman glared back, tilting
her chin defiantly. As if she were choosing between two options, she slowly
nodded her head. Marcus frowned, assuming she meant this was a joke. Before he
could speak, the woman answered him.

“No,
Sir
Marcus, I deliver this message to you at the
bequest of an old friend, Sir Ralus.”

Marcus paled. That was a name he had not heard in over ten
years. He and many others had known that Sir Ralus had been the king’s closest
friend, and yet suddenly, one day, he was gone. King Thomas had refused to
answer any questions about the old soldier’s disappearance. Marcus had admired
Sir Ralus, having learned much from that crusty old soldier as a young man. He
had missed the captain sorely himself, when he had suddenly disappeared, and he
could find no answers as to where he had gone.

“Who are you, woman? How do you know of Sir Ralus?”

Many people in the hall quaked at his angry tones, but the
woman in front of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man held firm. Her voice was
soft, still and calm as she answered. “If you will only read the note, all will
be answered.”

Marcus glared into the deep blue eyes of the young woman.
Something about her was so familiar to him, but he couldn’t place what it was.
He knew he had never met her. He would never have forgotten such a beautiful
woman. He started to spin away from her when his gaze was caught by the distant
stained glass that had been made in tribute to King Thomas and the former liege
lord’s wife, Queen Sylvia. He saw the resemblance instantly. Lady Sylvia stood
in his main hall, alive and breathing, except that she had Thomas’ blue eyes.