The Thirteenth Knight

By Tricia Andersen

Life is simple in the village when Thatcher and Miranda realize that their lifelong friendship has turned to love. Their world is turned upside down when Miranda's true identity is revealed – she is the niece of the kingdom and the next heir to the throne. She is swept away to the palace giving Thatcher the only solution available to him. He will become one of the King's knights and therefore worthy of Miranda's hand.
When dark magic strikes the kingdom, it is Thatcher's bravery that saves the King and the kingdom. Yet being a knight is not enough nobility to marry the woman he loves. When the source of the dark magic captures the palace and vows to make Miranda his bride, both Miranda and Thatcher work to overthrow him. Will it be enough to bring them together – or will dark magic and the King himself keep them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tricia Andersen
• Release date: Jun 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201257033

Tricia Andersen

Tricia Andersen lives in Iowa with her husband and her three children.  She graduated from the University of Iowa with a Bachelor of Arts in English and from Kirkwood Community College with an Associate of Arts degree in Communications Media/Public Relations.   For the past five years, Tricia has been a member of Hard Drive Performance Center in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, an affiliate of Roufusport in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She has experience in kickboxing and currently trains in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Even though she has never competed in an MMA cage, she’s witnessed and been a part of a fighter’s journey from fight camp to their walk to the cage. She also has competed in jiu jitsu. Learn more about Tricia Andersen and her books at www.triciaandersen.com.

Book preview

Dedication

To Jean Joachim and everyone at Tuesday Tales.  Thank you for your support and encouragement.  I love being part of the group and am honored to be among such talented authors.

Chapter One

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Miranda watched the rays of sunlight twinkle off the clear water in the stream. The large oak tree she sat beneath shaded her from the summer sun. She hoped that she could sit beside this creek all day.

Miranda glanced back to her village. The king’s nobles had returned once again. Their presence had terrified her. Almost viciously, they had thanked her father for his service to the king, but indicated that his duty was now over. One had spoken the words, We will soon return for the maiden.

Ever since their first visit, Miranda’s father would no longer look her in the eye. He found every excuse to be absent from their cottage.

She wiped the tears that suddenly sprang into her emerald green eyes. Could it be true? Could the man who raised me, loved me as his own, not be my real father?

As Miranda lifted her eyes to watch the stream ripple past, a scream erupted from her throat. Her gaze had locked on a spider, its thin, spindly legs rappelling down from its silk web. She scuttled backward, colliding with a very solid object. Her stare traced from the arachnid to the stick it was fixed on.

Thatcher met her terrified expression with a mischievous grin. Hello, Miranda, he crooned.

She scrambled from beneath his arm holding the spider and rose to her feet. Thatcher was Miranda’s other heartbreak. He had been part of Miranda’s life ever since she could remember. His father was a farmer, and hers was the town miller. The two men were business partners and best friends.

As small children, Thatcher had been as close to Miranda as a brother. They had spent their days gathering color-filled stones from the creek. They had spent the evenings singing songs around the campfire and chasing fireflies.

But as they matured, Thatcher had become so much more to Miranda. He had grown from a lanky teenager to a tall, sensual man. His body was chiseled, every muscle rippling and strong. He kept his black hair cropped short. His eyes burned a beautiful, sapphire blue.

Yet, she was sure he didn’t feel the same about her. I’ll always be like a sister to him.

Thatcher balanced the tiny spider on his arm, allowing the creature to climb across the fabric of his tunic. Settle, Miranda. It is just a spider, he laughed.

It was not funny, Thatcher, she chided.

Yes, it was.

Miranda took a deep breath. I see the king’s army has made their camp nearby. Have you gone to talk to the commander?

Yes.

And?

They leave in two weeks. I will leave with them.

She felt her heart break to pieces. And your father is all right with this?

Yes. He is proud that I will become a knight of the king’s army. Thatcher cocked his head to the side, his mouth still turned up in his devilish grin. How does my Miranda feel about it?

I do not believe I have an option, do I?

Of course, you do. I value your opinion.

She bit her lower lip nervously. I do not approve.

Why not?

It was not our plans.

What were our plans? I had none in this village.

Oh, Miranda squeaked. She glanced back to the hamlet then to the paths and brush. Despite the king’s nobles, she needed to make an escape back to her cottage. Soon.

Thatcher gently brushed the spider to the ground then slowly strode toward her. Miranda, what were your plans of me? he demanded.

Miranda gazed up to him as her face flushed red. That you and I would be...wed, she whispered.

Wed? You and I?

Yes. She braced herself for his laughter, feeling tears rush into her eyes again, this time of humiliation.

Then, she gasped in surprise as Thatcher swept her into his arms. The noise was smothered by his deep, soft, delicious kiss. Miranda wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as the embrace deepened.

As their lips parted, he rasped, Are you certain you wish to be my wife?

Yes, she breathed.

Then, I will go speak to the commander of the army tomorrow. I will also speak to your father.

But your desire to be a knight, she protested.

He kissed her once more. This is my true desire. I want nothing more than you as my bride, Miranda. I love you with all my heart.

Miranda’s heart thundered in her chest at his words. I love you also, Thatcher. Her thoughts of the village, her father, and the king’s nobles disappeared as she melted against his hard, warm body and lost herself in his kisses.

For hours, the two lovers talked and laughed as they wandered along the sandy bank of the stream, dreaming the plans for their wedding. But Miranda felt Thatcher’s hand tense beneath her fingers as they ascended the path to their village. She watched the euphoria drain from his eyes, the sapphire blue becoming cold.

You have changed your mind, she whimpered. You will not marry me now.

He gazed down to her. The warmth returned to his eyes. I had planned on waiting until I spoke to the commander of the king’s army before I spoke to your father. However, I cannot wait that long. I will speak to your father now.

But you are tense.

Thatcher cocked a half smile at her. "It is not a simple task, Miranda. I am asking your father for you, the