Shahin: Escape from Persia

By Jennifer McKeithen

A prince on the run …
A girl with a terrible secret …
A sorceress hungry for power …
An unforgettable journey.

Sixteen-year-old Shahin’s father is dead. Now he must flee the wrath of his wicked aunt and leave behind everything he knows. But he can’t do it alone.

His guide is Amrita, a beautiful girl who hides a terrible secret. With her help, they elude the palace guards and navigate the treacherous mountain pass out of Persia. As they near Amrita’s homeland, Shahin develops strange, thrilling feelings for her. But can he risk trusting her with his heart as well as his life?

The past youth of Atlantis’ most enigmatic resident revealed at last! Following the traditions of classic young adult fantasy and pulp fiction, Jennifer McKeithen weaves a new tale of danger, first love, and betrayal in this coming of age adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer McKeithen
• Release date: Dec 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386247135

Jennifer McKeithen

Jennifer grew up in beautiful south Louisiana. Her earliest memories were in New Orleans. Living in “America's first melting pot” taught her to appreciate culture, cuisine, and music from a young age. Her lifelong fascination with Ancient mythology and Medieval folklore remains another influence on her writing. She and her dashing husband, Japheth, live in Kansas City, Missouri.

Book preview

Chapter One

Persia, 279 B.C.

Tajvar Raanji, a mighty Prince of Persia, was dead.

Shahin stood a short distance from his father’s funeral tower. The entire household watched attendants carry the prince’s body to the top. While many mourned at the passing Tajvar, his concubine’s son suspected he was one of the few who would miss him.

His half-brother sniffed beside him. At fifteen, Kalisada was a year younger, and still struggled to control his emotions. He likewise loved their father.

In contrast, Kalisada’s mother did not have that same look of distress. Lavanya had long waited for this day. She did not even pretend to weep with the other concubines. Impassively, she observed the ritual procession.

Closer to the dakhma, the tower of silence, Tajvar’s wife and heir trembled in the morning wind. How much Darya and Arash cared for Tajvar, Shahin did not know. He was the son of a concubine, and seldom interacted with the royal family. Now that his father was dead, he expected he’d never meet them again.

Lavanya intended to see more of them—of that, Shahin was certain. His aunt held lofty ambitions. She projected a stronger confidence than the prince’s widow. Darya would turn to Lavanya for guidance in raising Arash as the next ruler. And his aunt would take full advantage of her new position, intending to put her own son on the throne instead. Darya and Arash wouldn’t even recognize the threat.

Darya was fortunate Tajvar was not a Hindu, like Shahin’s and Kalisada’s mothers. Tradition would dictate his cremation—and that she join the honored dead on the pyre. His late mother, Rana, who’d loved her master dearly, might have considered that an honor. Shahin felt relieved she died a few years before. Death by poison, horrible as it had been, seemed preferable than watching her burn alive.

Sickening! Shahin thought. Almost as sickening as scavenger birds ripping his father’s corpse to pieces.

A lump swelled in his throat. He reined it in with a subtle breath. He would not allow Lavanya to witness any weakness on his part. His childhood would be devoured by the vultures along with his father. He must become a man now.

He placed a reassuring hand on Kalisada’s shoulder to comfort his younger brother. In doing so, he caught Lavanya’s eye. Hatred smoldered in her gaze.

She never forgave her sister for stealing her place as Tajvar’s favorite, nor the prince for giving Rana a son first. Although Shahin loathed attaching weight to her threats, prudence suggested it the best course of action, lest she guess his bold plan.

Shahin turned away from her. He looked at the pinnacle of the tower, where vultures swooped toward the waiting carrion. They would break it down within days, perhaps hours. Thus, the birds fulfilled the Zoroastrian requirement of separating an unclean body from the sacred elements of earth and fire. Farewell, father. With his goodbye, he committed every scene to his memory.

I must escape tonight, he decided. Or I will not live to see the sun rise tomorrow.

SHAHIN LAY IN THE DARKNESS of his bedchamber. The scent of moonflowers drifted through the open window on the summer night’s breeze. A few tears he would not shed earlier that day rolled down his cheek while he turned over the remaining components of his plan.

Kalisada, in contrast, sobbed like a girl in the other bed. Shahin didn’t hold it against him. He might have done the same if he’d been alone in the room.

When his brother first appeared in the doorway, Shahin mistook the visitor for one of Lavanya’s assassins. Relief washed over him. Kalisada, too, enjoyed Rana’s kindness. While Lavanya pored over spell books and performed secret rituals, Shahin’s mother devoted her time to raising the two boys. It was she who taught them the value of gentleness and love.

Kalisada’s presence ensured his safety—at least for the night. It was a stroke of luck—unexpected—but he’d take it.

His stomach grumbled.

Concerned Lavanya had laced his food with poison from her garden, he pretended to