Fealty

By Celeste Hall

A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel

Caristaphel Anne is the only child of a barbaric king, kidnapped and sentenced to death for her father's sins against the people. As the king casts a blanket of death over the land, the daughter heir is thrown into the filthy bowels of the kingdom's underworld, eventually passing into the care of their most ruthless and brutal mercenary. Yet her strength of spirit will not be broken, earning more than just the respect of her murderous warder.

WARNING: This is a full length medieval fantasy adventure with some explicit sex and language intended for adult readers! The hero is a bit of a bad boy and the heroine is a virgin brat. You get the picture. If you enjoy reading erotica about medieval heroes rescuing the damsel in danger, you'll probably love this romantic fantasy adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celeste Hall
• Release date: May 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458004932

Celeste Hall

Celeste Hall is a passionate writer of paranormal and erotic romance with over twenty-five titles to her credit, including Beware of Wolves, the Kitty Coven series, and her ultra-sexy Seduction series. If you're looking for a sizzling escape from the pressures of a long day, her alpha hero incubi will make you purr.Celeste believes that a great book can do more than offer an afternoon's pleasure, it can change your life. She is absolutely addicted to happy endings. Her favorite stories will often include elements of the paranormal or fantastical, but they will always have a romantic heart.When not writing, Celeste enjoys traveling and spending time outdoors. She also enjoys photography, graphic design, a variety of artistic mediums, gardening, horseback riding and geeking out online - especially on Facebook.You can find a full list of her books by visiting: CelesteHall.com.

Book preview

FEALTY

Savage Throne

Book 1

By Celeste Hall

Fealty

Savage Throne Book 1

Copyright © 2011 by Celeste Hall

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Please purchase only authorized editions.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this book are 18 years of age or older.

For KJ: Your strong and passionate spirit inspires me.

Also by Celeste Hall

~ Seduction Series ~

A paranormal erotic romance series, best read in the following order…

Ethan

Kye

Rico

Gavin

All The Queen’s Men

The Brothers Sin – Coming Soon!

~ Kitty Coven Series ~

A new adult romance series, best read in the following order…

Something Wicca This Way Comes

The Bare Witch Project

Love’s a Witch

A Yowling Yuletide

Cheaper By The Coven – Coming Soon!

~ Savage Throne Series ~

A historical romance series, best read in the following order…

Fealty

Fidelity – Coming Soon!

For a full list of books by Celeste Hall, including standalone novels, short stories and anthologies, please visit her website at www.CelesteHall.com.

Prologue

My queen?

The small man stood uncomfortably in the doorway, his expression a mixture of great admiration with a touch of dread.

Before him was the most powerful woman in the kingdom, and easily the most beautiful he’d ever met, despite the soft lines that creased the corners of her eyes and mouth from age.

Queen Czarina had her mother’s thick pale hair, now shimmering like liquid gold in the firelight, a sharp contrast to the rich burgundy and black of her gown.

Her figure was gently rounded with maturity, yet wonderfully feminine.

As she turned from the fire to welcome him the little man quickly lowered his forehead to the floor. Although he knew she would not request such strict obeisance from him, his great respect for her would permit no less.

You bring me news of the Dark Lord? She queried gently, motioning for him to rise with the delicate lift of her hand.

The queen was petite in height, yet still a full head taller than the dwarf.

Her emerald green eyes bored into him with a sharp intelligence that could not be hidden by her great magnificence, yet she did not look upon him as an inferior, but as a confidante and guardian.

Despite his diminutive size, she considered the small man one of her most cunning and ruthless assassins.

Yes my queen. I followed his Riders into Nolm, but I was seen and forced to withdraw. They have not changed direction in three weeks. If they continue, their course will bring them to the very walls of the castle.

You are certain it is the man we seek?

I swear on my life, it is he.

Chapter One

Pain! Oh, but her head hurt!

Caristaphel Anne reached up to press a palm to her temple and paused in confusion as she realized that her arm was not responding. It took another moment before she understood that her wrists were actually tied behind her back.

She froze as memories flooded back into her mind.

It had been growing dark and Byram had voiced his growing concern over the time.

The horses were weary from the long ride, but she could sense from her companion an undercurrent of anxiety that was not a familiar emotion from the war hardened knight. Byram was considered one of her father’s fiercest warriors.

She grimaced. His battle experience was admittedly the very reason why he had been her constant escort over the past months.

Carista was the last surviving heir to the throne. The only child of seven babes borne to King Cederic and Queen Czarina which had survived the Horde Wars and lived to reach maturity. A position which her father claimed made her vulnerable to plots against the kingdom, and earned her the annoyance of a full time bodyguard.

Yet Carista had refused to be contained within her chambers. She felt like a prisoner there, no matter how many entertainers her father hired to keep her company.

She would much rather be riding in the countryside, and had lately taken to staying out quite late into the evenings.

She relished the night, the cool crisp breeze on her skin and the transformation of the world from dusty summer fields to mystical moonlit vistas.

When darkness veiled the world, she felt - free. As if the darkness released her from the reality of her miserable existence.

Carista watched Byram from beneath heavy lashes.

The second in command of her father’s armies, Byram had wild good looks that often landed him in trouble with the ladies.

A long, straight nose, a full and shamelessly sensual mouth, and rakish green eyes that dared any woman keep out of the shadows with him.

He had the width and strength of build common to a knight accustomed to wearing heavy armor for what might be days on end. And a pig headed thickness of skull that made it almost impossible for her to get away with any mischief in his presence.

It made no difference what he did in his own life, how often he found his own skin at risk due to outraged husbands or jilted lovers; he protected Carista as if she were a baby sister. It was stifling. But she loved him as a brother, and could only shake her head in amusement as scandals rose and fell around her notorious protector.

Now, despite his often jovial mood during their rides together, he was unusually still tonight.

It was dark, but there was enough moonlight to see his hand resting almost casually on his sword hilt.

The gesture combined with his silence was enough to set her nerves humming and her hand twitched unconsciously towards the tiny bejeweled knife she always carried on her belt.

As she paid closer attention, she began to sense what had stirred her companion’s unusual edginess.

The night was menacingly quiet. Where were the night birds and the insects singing to the end of summer?

It was as if the entire world was listening with her.

The darkness seemed to creep in around her, and she allowed the mare to move slightly closer to Byram’s larger warhorse.

The foul tempered beast laid back its ears at her, but Caristaphel ignored him, and her guardian’s deft hand on the reins prevented any true threat.

The slivered excuse for a moon slipped behind unseen clouds and failed to cast even the most feeble hope of iridescence. It was beautiful and unearthly, yet strangely frightening.

She shivered - and it had nothing to do with the temperature - then quickly straightened in her saddle, casting a cautious glance at Byram to see if he had noticed.

She would not allow her vivid imagination to make her appear a coward or a fool.

Byram appeared completely oblivious of her, yet she knew it for a lie. His eyes were hidden from her by shadows, yet she sensed that he was scouring every tree around them. Seeking any sign of what might be waiting for them ahead.

Carista cast her gaze about, hoping to see what her companion might miss, yet that chilling and absolute silence pressed in about her so fearfully it was as if a heavy blanket of dread pressed through her chilled flesh and forbid her thoughts from considering all else.

Thunk!

The shaft of an arrow abruptly embedded itself in the chest of Byram’s horse, and the animal screamed in pain.

Carista’s own horse squealed in surprise as she yanked the mare around to see where the arrow had come from, but Byram was instantly grabbing the reins out of her hands and urging his wounded stallion forward.

They were running - racing through the trees at a break neck speed.

Any other time she would have felt exhilarated, but now all she could think of was the potential for Byram’s injured horse falling, and taking his rider down with him.

The shaft of the arrow jerked about violently as the stallion struggled to run with it still protruding from his chest.

Blood trickling from the horse’s nostril warned that the animal was already dead on its feet, only adrenaline and fear keeping the poor beast moving forward.

Instinctively Carista reached to take the reins back from Byram and had to jerk her hands back to clutch at the saddle as the black horse abruptly stumbled and fell against her mare.

The arrow snapped off between them, gouging a section of flesh out of the mare’s belly with the jagged end of the shaft before the stallion was able to right itself and attempt to run once more.

She heard a voice screaming and realized it was her own. She was yelling at Byram to stop, to give her back the reins, but he only spurred the horses faster.

Distant thunder rang in her ears.

No.

Not thunder. Hoof beats. At least a dozen horses must be following.

Clutching the saddle with one hand she jerked the tiny belt knife from its sheath. The daughter heir of Karraharn would not go down without a fight!

The glint of steal caught Byram’s gaze. His eyes flashed from the knife, to the pale determination on her face, and then dropped to the arrow still protruding from his horse’s chest.

Carista saw the decision in his eyes and shook her head.

No! Byram!

It was too late.

There was a slick swish of steal against leather as he drew out his sword.

His gaze captured hers - deathly calm staring into panicked green – then he sliced the reins from the mare’s bridle.

No! She screamed at him, but he ignored her.

Slapping the rump of the mare with the flat edge of his sword he spurred a fresh burst of speed out of her even as he gathered the reins to turn his own flagging mount back towards their pursuers.

Byram!

But he was gone - her jovial companion, her teasing big brother - and there was nothing she could do to stop the mare’s headlong flight without reins.

The bastard had effectively taken her right out of the fight, buying her escape with his own life.

There was a shout from behind her, but she could not be sure if it was one of surprise or pain.

She twisted around to look back, and as she did a branch struck the side of her head so hard that it knocked her completely out of the saddle.

She was blanketed in darkness before she ever hit the ground.

And now, here she was, trussed up like a hog for market and wrapped in what smelled like a soured horse blanket. Fighting against the pain in her head, she managed to open her eyes.

Wherever she was it was dark, too dark for it to be outdoors. Too dark to even see the earth pressed against her cheek.

For a moment she fought to swallow the fear which threatened to consume her.

She was the royal offspring of King Cederic the Fierce and Queen Czarina the Wise, to give in to her fears would be a betrayal of her birthright. Whatever came of her situation she would face it fearlessly and die in a manner that would make her parent’s proud.

She struggled to wiggle her face out from under the blanket before the stench of it could turn her stomach, and heard a soft skittering of sound behind her in the darkness.

Rats?

No. She was certain that she could now hear a whisper of breath nearby.

She was not alone, and the realization made her skin prickle.

Drawing very still she forced herself to close her eyes and concentrate on her surroundings, straining to hear past the drumming of her own heartbeat.

There, she was certain now, it was behind her. She judged that the watcher was only a few feet away, no more. Close enough that he could easily plant a sword into her breast if he realized that she had awakened, although he must surely have heard her efforts to remove the blanket from her face.

A watch guard perhaps? She must assume so until she was able to better judge his countenance.

As if her thoughts had drawn his attention she heard a faint rasp of cloth and instantly knew that his eyes were on her position in the darkness, though surely he must be as blinded by the night as she was.

Still, she felt a chill creep of dread along her spine as her muscles tensed in preparation for the pain she knew was coming. She would not flinch as the blade pierced her flesh. She would not cry out or beg for mercy.

Every fiber of her being ached as time seemed to stretch out into eternity and her killer never moved to end her life.

She would never even see his face.

Stabbed in the back – the victim of a coward.

Suddenly she was angry.

How dare the son of a spavined pig treat her this way? She should be allowed to face her demise as the royal heir that she was! Looking death in the eye, with her head held high and a proud sneer on her face.

Righteous anger pushed the last of the fear from her body and gave her the strength to move again. Her long tensed muscles aching in protest as she struggled against the ropes which bound her wrists and ankles.

Oh yes, she was mad now. She was furious!

Foul epithets broke the silence as she cursed the ropes, the darkness and the unknown man behind her.

The ropes bit into her flesh and only spurred her temper to greater heights.

How dare they treat her like this?

If she escaped she would have every festering, plague pocked, mongrel wretch of them gutted and quartered before the entire kingdom for such insult!

Abruptly the world seemed to tilt and spin haphazardly, sending her rolling across the floor to rest against a cold earthen wall.

Shocked, it took a moment for Carista to realize that it was not the earth which had moved, but her.

The sharp ache in her ribs explained the reason.

He’d kicked her!

Coward! She snarled, and was pleased to hear not a trace of fear or pain in her voice, though her lungs still gasped for breath and made the word a menacing whisper instead of the fierce roar she’d intended.

Release me this moment or I will have you gutted like the pig you are and fed back to the rot-womb whore that whelped you!

Oh hell! So much for not begging for her freedom.

She mentally flagged herself for such a slip and the shame of it added heat to her temper.

Are you so great a coward that you will hide your face from me, to kick me from the protection of the darkness? Are you afraid that I will see your pock riddled face and your shriveled lack of ballocks? Are you a woman than, between your legs? Your manhood so withered that you haven’t the courage to face even a helpless female child? Will you scurry like rat in the shadows and bite at my ankles, woman? Answer me, you pocked whore! You diseased slut!

She cast every obscenity she could muster into the darkness. Such vile curses that her father would have quartered any man that spoke them in her presence and might have dropped her queen mother into a faint if she heard them uttered from her only daughter’s lips.

Abruptly a square of light appeared in the darkness. A door being opened.

Carista’s furious gaze swept from the opening door to the form of the man she knew would be loaming over her in the shadows, and abruptly the heat of her temper was subjected to a dampening chill.

The man was hideous!

Scars crisscrossed his face so many times he resembled one of her nanny’s scrap material patchwork quilts.

Parts of his face simply no longer managed to line up properly. Eyes, nose, mouth and eyebrows all were seemingly pieced together in a haphazard way that made the whole mess of him look terribly wrong.

The figure before her was so repulsive she instinctively drew back in disgust.

Gerard, there is no need for that here.

The commanding voice from the doorway could not distract Carista’s attention from the grotesque creature before her, however it did expand the picture so that she was suddenly aware of the wicked looking dagger clenched in the man’s fist.

His piggish eyes were locked on her face, his deformed jaw tight with rage.

Only then did she realize how close she had come to having that blade slipped between her ribs in the darkness.

Cold fear tickled at her spine, but she quickly shoved it away and summoned back a small vestige of her anger.

It was enough to give the strength she needed to drag her eyes away from the monster before her and face the man back lighted in the doorway.

Because of the light behind him, the man’s face was cast in shadows but there was a commanding manner about him that suggested he was likely a leader, or at least someone dangerous.

So dangerous that even her deformed captor might not defy his wishes.

The knowledge fed her courage.

I cannot see your face, swine, it is hidden by shadows, she chided, or do you fear I will see a likeness of your slattern dray mother on you?

A guttural sound from the creature next to her warned that he was more affected by the insult than the man in the doorway, and she slashed her eyes towards him.

Her initial assessment was correct. The deformed figure was murderously tensed, but made no move to finish what he’d intended.

Carista snapped her attention back towards the door, green eyes flashing forked lightning.

Well? Do you pretend that you are deaf, or are you afraid? Have you no balls either? Have I been kidnapped by a band of cock shriveled cowards?

The lead man’s response was not what she had expected. His shoulders jerked spasmodically and she realized that he was laughing at her!

Fury overwhelmed her at the thought and she immediately cast a rampage of foul language in his direction, which only seemed to fuel his humor.

Caristaphel’s jaw snapped shut and she glowered at him in mute outrage.

Come Gerard. The dark man chuckled softly, The wench is surely recovered from her fall, and you have done well by her. Take your meal in the camp with the others.

Carista scowled at him fit to burn the flesh from his bones, then shifted her fury to include her would be assassin.

The deformed giant sheathed his blade and lifted the blanket she’d been covered with off the floor. She noticed a second blanket draped over a wooden chair nearby, and guessed that had been his position before she’d awakened.

How long had she been laying there, unconscious, and helpless of whatever whims her captors might have taken?

The thought chilled her to the bone.

Gerard offered a last murderous look in her direction, before shuffling towards the door.

From the broken gait of his movement she guessed that the rest of his body might be just as badly mutilated as his face.

The large man in the doorway stepped backwards into the light, allowing the cripple to move past. Then he stepped through the entry and moved towards her.

He moved with the grace of a hunting wolf, silent and deadly. Steel clothed in flesh.

She felt that nagging prickle of nerves along her spine once more.

Would this man finish what the cripple had intended?

Was this how her life was to end?

She braced herself - both inwardly and outwardly - stubbornly glaring up at him with all the courage she could muster.

As he drew closer she found that she had to roll back onto her wrists to keep his gaze. The man was very tall, he might easily stand a full head above her father.

His thickly built shoulders and arms looked strong enough to strangle a bear, and the look in his eyes promised that he was angry enough to attempt just that.

Well, if he intended to strangle her, she was going to give him one hell of a fight first.

As if he had captured a hint of her thoughts his steely gray eyes began a thorough inspection of her body, raking his gaze across her skin without the slightest hint of shame.

For a moment she almost thought she saw a flash of hunger in that look, the glittering intent of something worse than death.

She drew a nervous breath, the motion drawing his gaze to her breasts, and her heart stumbled against her ribs.

Her nanny had warned of such men - men with no honor, worse than even the most frightening murderers.

They would take and savage an innocent woman, than leave her to die of her wounds - or of shame, whichever took her first.

She had not prepared herself for this horrible possibility, and terror quickly threatened to overwhelm her.

As he grew closer, she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Feel her breath coming faster as her lips parted in frightened little gasps, even as she fought to hold her eyes firmly locked on his and keep the expression on her face one of furious challenge.

He was almost upon her now.

A wolf, circling his intended prey. Lips curled into something that resembled a smile, but held more snarl then humor, the threatening sneer of a wolf considering a particularly helpless target.

Eyes pools of ice and silver, cold and predatory, could not be touched by that smile. They glittered with danger.

Heart thundering, Carista prepared herself to fight as best she could with her wrists and ankles still tightly bound.

Her body tensed as he drew within range and she quickly lashed out with her feet, throwing as much of her weight as she could manage into the double footed kick.

Lightning fast reflexes saved him from what might have been a painful connection between her heels and his groin.

Grabbing one ankle, just above the bindings, he jerked her around so that she was lying on her back facing him.

Let go of me! she screeched at him, I’ll kill you for this!

Reaching forward with his free hand he grabbed her elbow and lifted, at the same time dropping her heels back to the floor with a loud thump that jarred her to the very bone.

She had no time to protest before he had dragged her up into a standing position, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face close to his, forcing her to look up at him, although she could not have torn her panicked gaze away if she’d wanted to.

The hard grasp of his fingers bruised her arm as she clenched her jaw in determination and gazed up at him through a storm of unadulterated fury and sheer terror.

She realized she had never really been afraid of anything in her life as she was afraid of this man.

Always she had known that Byram, or one of the many soldiers in service to her father,