Believe

By Shereen Vedam

She believed in her destiny, then fate tore up their pact.

Princess Samara, daughter of the Sorcerer King, is unimpressed with the current turn of her fortune. Her father's chosen another successor, after promising that she would one day be Sorceress Queen. Then, he begs her to go fetch the very boy who is to usurp her place on his throne. When a reluctant knight, who only thinks of bedding women or hunting dragons, is assigned as their escort, she's ready to flame them all into ash.

Yet, she loves her father. And her beloved late mother's spirit has condoned this abominable turn of fate.

Now Samara is headed back home with a child who doesn't want the role she's been forced to surrender, with a knight who doesn't want to be with either of them. When a dragon then interferes with her plans to safeguard the boy, Samara must decide.

Is she a formidable sorceress who can handle this latest crisis, or was fate right to replace her as heir to her kingdom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shereen Vedam
• Release date: Sep 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781989036266

Shereen Vedam

Once upon a time, USA Today bestselling author Shereen Vedam read fantasy and romance novels to entertain herself. Now she writes heartwarming tales braided with threads of magic and love and mystery elements woven in for good measure. Shereen's a fan of resourceful women, intriguing men, and happily-ever-after endings. If her stories whisk you away to a different realm for a few hours, then Shereen will have achieved one of her life goals. Please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased this book.

Book preview

Chapter One

Late at night, in the upstairs bedroom of her father’s castle, Princess Samara sat up with a start. A sense of foreboding permeated her bedchamber.

She flicked her fingers, mentally calling for light and the room glowed brighter, sending shadows scurrying.

She was alone. The door to the corridor remained shut. No shouts of alarm from the guards stationed in the corridors or downstairs; nothing to worry about. Just a night-time jitter that had disturbed her sleep.

With a sigh of relief, her tensions subsided. She extinguished the room’s glow and lay back.

All was well.

Her father was the King of Bernada, a land of sorcerers. Their kingdom even had a university for magical scholars. Best of all, she was inside his spell-fortified castle. No place in this whole world was safer than here. Silly to worry.

Still, the feeling had been so palpable...

A brisk summer breeze blew in through the iron grill barrier of the room’s lone window, rattling its open shutters and swiping across her warm face. A glance out that domed opening showed a pitch-black sky outside, outlining the edges of an old oak.

She squinted until the canopy resembled the shape of the outstretched wings of a dragon. Her mother’s favorite pets. One hadn’t been seen in Bernada since the queen passed away years ago. In her absence, Samara’s father had become not only her caretaker but her best friend.

She used to love hiding in the branches of that old oak to spy on him training his apprentices to cast spells in the courtyard below. Until one day, she was old enough to be taught herself.

Another breeze blew in. This time, a branch struck the grill with an urgent rat-tat-tat, as if in disagreement with Samara’s earlier assessment that all was well. Silly old tree.

She yawned and stretched, and within a tired blink, she was asleep again.

AT THE BARE EDGE OF dawn, while the rumble of a storm’s thunder shook the beds of the castle’s sleeping inhabitants, three witches drifted into the king’s audience chamber in Bernada. As they approached His Majesty, an odd breeze stirred within the closed chamber, billowing their crimson cloaks.

Still in his nightwear, the king gave the three crones a long-suffering glance as he climbed to sit on his throne. He then straightened his nightcap and asked, Why have you summoned me?

They bowed low and then rose together to intone in perfect harmony, "Great and Mighty Sorcerer King, we have come to make known to you an unexpected turn of the great wheel of fate. On your death, a boy from the mortal kingdom of Glinnia will rule in your place."

AT BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning, Samara’s father shared the witches’ delivery of the disagreeable prophecy. So, there had been a disturbance last night. She should have listened to her instincts and checked outside her room.

How can this be? she asked, frowning at her father who was slathering jam on a thick slice of freshly baked bread. The sight made her mouth water.

I’m the strongest magic user in the realm, Samara continued in a reasonable tone. That fact has not altered since I was tested when I turned ten. She took a bite of her jam-layered bread and sighed with pleasure at the sweet warm taste. Do not fret, Papa. I will be the one to succeed you and I promise to take great care of our kingdom.

I’m sorry, Samara, but this changes all our plans. He sounded...excited?

He couldn’t be contemplating giving this Glinnian boy her rightful place. Could he? I’m more capable of ruling than a child, she scoffed, but a sliver of doubt crept up her back. He wouldn’t safeguard our people as I would. Who is this lad? A prince? A street urchin?

According to the oracles, his name is Jack, he’s eight years old, and the son of a knight named Sir Ivan. If Jack is to successfully rule my kingdom one day, he must be taught our ways, so he will understand how to govern a land of sorcerers. The boy must be properly educated to ensure that, once I’m gone, Bernada continues to be ruled by a strong and just hand.

His words were a knife jammed between her shoulder blades. Her father sounded as if he’d accepted this flimsy prophecy as an unchangeable fact. Samara dropped her half-eaten bread, her hunger vanishing, and a sense of horror surging to take its place. You cannot be serious.

Her father loved her. More so than any boy he had yet to meet, no matter how powerful this prophecy deemed the child would one day become.

This has been foretold, he replied in a resolute tone.

FOR THE NEXT THREE days, Samara and her father circled the same insidious argument. The boy must be protected. Taught. Groomed to become a sorcerer-king.

Unable to change his mind, a deep depression settled into the pit of her stomach.

Then, he called her into his study. She ran in, hope spurring her steps. Had he come to his senses?

He waved her inside. I want you to fetch him.

What? No! Blood fled from her extremities, leaving her body cool and her head woozy at that callous order.

Samara, you’ve had enough time to become accustomed to this new circumstance. I understand it’s hard to take in, but I also know my daughter. You can and will put aside your pain and think of the good of Bernada.

She showed him her stiff back, unable to gaze any longer at his entreating face. How could he expect her to so easily put aside a lifetime of believing she would one day govern their cherished kingdom? She wanted to serve her people but not as a vassal to an outsider. The very idea was