The Secret Heritage: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #11
By Joy Ohagwu
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About this ebook
A CHRISTIAN SUSPENS
A slave or a princess, which will he choose?
Shipwrecked and stranded at sea, Christian missionary Sierra Fernando had no choice other than to surrender her freedom. But when she arrives at the beautiful island of Lanzarote as a slave and stumbles into the king, she finds that slavery threatens more than her freedom—it threatens her life.
One year ago, King Peralta was sure his destiny as king of Lanzarote was fixed for him according to Lanzarote custom. He would marry the lady chosen for him by the council. Until he met Sierra and his choices shifted. With only twenty-four hours left, he must decide who to marry—a princess or a slave.
One choice will lead to a life of misery. The other will end his reign—and possibly his life—and set off the dangerous Hunter after him forever.
When time runs out, which bride will he choose?
Read The Secret Heritage today to find out.
The Secret Heritage happened more than 100 years before Pete Zendel was born. It is book 11 in The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series by USA Today Bestselling & Award winning Author Joy Ohagwu.
Joy Ohagwu
By God's grace, USA Today Bestselling Author Joy Ohagwu is an award-winning author of Christian Suspense and Romance & Christian Inspirational Fiction. Named by Book Riot in August 2019 as one of the 17 best Christian Fiction authors, she writes heartwarming stories with a healthy dose of suspense, divine inspiration, and happy endings. She credits Jesus with having turned her life around, averted multiple life derailments for her, and she's grateful to be writing stories that embody grace, hope, love, and second (and multiple) chances. She earned a Masters' degree in International Affairs, a Bachelors' degree in Political Science and has been honored with fourteen individual academic awards for excellence by her alma mater and her peers. She lives in the Washington DC capital region.
Read more from Joy Ohagwu
The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series
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Vanished: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #4 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSnowy Peaks: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRed: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Wedding: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #3 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Rescued: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFreedom: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #7 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSunshine: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #9 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRest: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #8 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDelivered: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #6 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Secret Heritage: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #11 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHunter: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #12 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWhisper: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #10 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCourageous: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #14 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Hunted: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #13 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDefended: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #15 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWarrior: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #16 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5
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The Secret Heritage - Joy Ohagwu
Chapter One
Click here and get book 12 - HUNTER!
"B ut if the spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit Who dwells in you." Romans 8:11
In the last year of the times when Lanzarote was still ruled by kings.…
Someone nudged Sierra Fernando’s shoulder, shook her awake, and pressed a note into her hand. She blinked, still half asleep, and looked up at Mary, her fellow slave—a forced slave, but she wouldn’t go there just yet—peering down.
Shhh.
Mary raised a finger to her lips. It’s a note for you. Read it.
Angling herself to catch a wave of the flickering oil lantern at the end of the female servants’ quarters—an old rectangular wooden barn—she tilted the note, smoothing crumpled edges in her struggle to read it with sleepy eyes. Then the name scrawled at the edge chased sleep from her eyes.
The day was finally here. It was time to choose, and the man was involving her in his decision? Goodness.
She swallowed as Mary was turning to leave while Sierra still rubbed her eyes. Wait, who gave this note to you?
Ache.
The lone answer confirmed her fears. It was truly from the king.
Sierra’s eyes widened, and she stifled a yawn. What? Ache is here?
How did he get past the security guard who kept the slaves from running away? Unless the guard was in a drunken stupor.
He is here. And he’s waiting outside the door. He said for you to hurry.
Mary nodded toward the note. What did it say?
Sierra couldn’t tell Mary what it really meant, but she could mention what it literally said. King Peralta has sent for me immediately. It says he has a…request to make.
Mary observed her from a distance, obviously expecting more information, but Sierra wasn’t saying any more. Not until she spoke to the king face-to-face. Not until she was sure he meant his words to her yesterday afternoon in the palace garden under the blooming lilies. And not until she knew he wouldn’t proceed to marry the lady-in-waiting as scheduled in twenty-four hours—a woman whom he clearly didn’t love but was betrothed to, right before they met accidentally—in order to keep his throne. Until then, her answers would be as vague as the circumstances surrounding them. That’s it?
Mary probed.
For now, yes. But please gather the others to pray for me while I’m gone. Things may change when I return. Have everyone be alert. I may ask him for our freedom. And in case the king helps us gain our freedom, somehow, I need you and everyone to be ready for our possible return to Spain.
A flicker of excitement glinted in Mary’s gaze as a wide smile stretched her thin lips into sallow cheeks. Okay, sister. And may God grant you favor in the king’s sight.
Amen.
With that, Sierra swung her feet off the bunk bed, put on the best clothing she had, which was distant from what the ladies of the court wore, and slipped out of the servants’ quarters. If the king’s note tonight, one night before his arranged marriage, and his words to her yesterday were anything to go by, King Peralta might be facing the toughest personal choice he would make—the choice of who to marry—and she was caught up in it by accident. An accident that started in the king’s garden six months ago and led to love. But…would the king choose a slave over a princess?
Six months earlier…
The heat beat down on her head while dirt jammed deep beneath her fingernails. Hoe in hand, Sierra worked hard in the king’s garden. The sight of the large, earthen water trough sitting on a rough-cut stone near the center of the garden tugged at her heart. But it was too far from her now. A sigh slipped through her chapped lips. If only she could scoop a cup to splash over her head and wet her tongue. It would’ve cooled her skin, if only for a moment. But her work couldn’t be delayed if she would finish on time to leave with the others.
As the sun crested overhead an hour later, she wiped beads of sweat off her brow and, while singing a Hallelujah chorus under her breath, Sierra bent to dig up those stubborn weeds still hugging the roots of a turnip plant. She’d labored all day around the west side of King Peralta’s garden, weeding through the flowers and had almost finished with her daily tasks. If she was lucky, the bruise sustained at the back of her hand when she’d pushed her hoe away from a blooming flower would be the only hurt she’d tend this evening.
Work faster!
their master, keeper of the palace grounds, a man of very few words and an evil heart bellowed above her, jerking her eyes from the turnip to the weeds looming beyond the seemingly endless weeds.
She bent deep over them, hoe uprooting stubborn grass held down by caked earth. Then a scream resounded near the rose garden. She jumped to her feet before thinking through it, dropped her tools, turned left, and ran over there.
Her heart pounded as she wiped sandy hands on her apron while she ran. Was one of her friends in trouble?
Only after she saw King Peralta leaning over a figure did she remember—she was no longer a nurse in a small village in Spain, a village whose people were decimated by war. She was a missionary, caught in a shipwreck, and captured and forced into slavery on this island. Before she could beat a retreat, the king spun, and his eyes met hers with a plea, a look her nursing eyes readily recognized.
She’d heard that he daily came to the garden to walk among the circle of rose trees while ruminating in thought. But she didn’t work on this side of the garden. Looking at him now, she saw a tall man with broad shoulders and a chiseled face who carried himself with dignity. He beckoned her with a wave, and gold bracelets jingled beyond the extended sleeve of his regal purple, gold-embroidered garment. Can you help him?
Sierra didn’t answer, still wishing not to incur her master’s wrath. Surely, she’d be punished with half a ration of meal for leaving her designated workplace simply because someone gave a scream for help. Obliging the king, she reached the fallen man, squatting as the king hunkered next to her. A musky scent of white lily, jasmine, and rose with a base of lavender floated into her nostrils from him—nothing like the sweaty smell she surely emitted. What a way to meet the king! Schooling her thoughts, she focused on the fallen man. What happened?
He collapsed and fell.
As the king supplied details, her nurse’s training kicked in. She visually scanned the man for injuries and, seeing none, exhaled in relief. Then she tilted the man’s chin and listened for breathing. She pressed a hand to his wrist.
He has a weak pulse, but we must revive him. Please, send someone to fetch some cool water, a medicine kit, and a towel.
As the king did so, she eased the man sideways and guided a hand to the back of his head, feeling for injuries. Did his head hit the ground?
She didn’t see a bruise of any kind.
The king shook his head. I caught him before he did.
No wonder the king had some mud on his shoes and sand splashed on his royal apparel. But he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes were on the fallen man. Please, what kind of knowledge do you have?
Since he didn’t hit his head on the ground, he should be all right. Let’s pray he comes around once I give him first-aid treatment.
She folded the skirt of her long dress between her thighs and considered his question while she checked the man for any other injuries. How much could she reveal to the man who could speak one word and change her situation?
Or should she bring up her situation? Twice now, she and the other missionaries had petitioned the king’s council for their freedom, narrating how they were traveling missionaries, forced into slavery by an agreement to save their lives after a shipwreck, but twice she was told their petition didn’t meet the requirements to be presented to the king’s council. But here, the man who could change all that squatted right next to her, and her stomach tightened, words pushing up from it, clogging her throat, her will alone scarcely holding back her need to scream her request. "I was a nurse in a