An Unwanted Protector: Book Three of the Romalo Legacy Series

By Emily Hamsher

The youngest of the Eastern European royals, Princess Elisabeta has led a sheltered life, happily growing up amongst the townspeople and nobility alike, but the war changed all that. When a powerful secret is unveiled, Elisa strives to make sense of her father’s death and uncovers a traitor within. Crippled beneath the weight of fear and hopelessness, she has no idea that she is the missing piece to the mystery surrounding her people.

Tavian Kovachi has been summoned back home with the singular mission of guarding the princess. However, he soon finds that this is no simple task, as he and the ever-elusive Elisa are quickly caught up in something bigger than themselves, not to mention his deepening attraction to her.

With the help of an ancient society of protectors, the princess must learn to have courage and put her hope in the God of Brasov. Meanwhile, as he fights to stop the plot against the royal family, Tavian finds himself torn between the lovely princess and an even greater loyalty: his nation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Jan 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781489733030

Emily Hamsher

Emily Hamsher is a woman after God’s own heart who loves to read and write. With a Master’s in Education, she is also an ordained minister and is pursuing a career in ministry as an associate pastor in Florida. At twenty-six years old, she is only beginning her author’s journey and seeks to open minds, inspire hearts, and create new worlds with her writing.

Book preview

Prologue

Elisabeta stepped towards the window, her mind already telling her there was nothing to be seen. Still, her eyes heralded the empty courtyard. It had only been a couple of hours since Katya had departed with her brother, the two of them and their small troupe headed straight for Doga Hill. The very same place her father, the king, was fighting head to head with their enemy.

Hmph! Her sigh of frustration must have carried across the room. Queen Melita looked up from the desk where she sat mindlessly flipping through pages of a book. It seemed they were both trying, and failing, to keep themselves occupied.

"Did you say something, fată?"

"Nu, Mamă." Her eyes went back to the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friend returning home safely.

When Katya had first told her that she was going alongside Gabriel to the battle front, she was shocked. Adventure was her great love, with its thrills and schemes. The stuff of infamous novellas. Yet in truth, she often wondered if she were brave enough to endure the sort of escapades that Adelina and Katya had undergone. In her short life, she had known her share of trouble, but never beyond the walls of the castle. Cloistered and secure, its arms had kept her blissfuly ignorant of the villains beyond. This was how she prefered it. Until now. Now she felt as though she were mising out, and this was not something she did well.

Perhaps I shall go and check on Tusta. She may need an extra hand helping with all those wounded men in the infirmary. She said this more to herself than to anyone else, but still her mother responded in that knowing way of hers. A fine idea, dear. Only be on your guard, and try to remain within sight of the patrol.

As you say, ‘one can never be too careful’… She smiled brilliantly at her mother and turned toward the door adding, Unless of course, in being careful, the same one forfeits the chance to experience life in its fullest glory.

Having been so used to the constant movement of soldiers and aritsocrats over the past several months, the empty halls now made her home feel as though it were a formidable ghost town. The quiet lurked around every corner. It poked fun at her for having been left behind. For this reason alone, she was able to pick up on the murming whispers that echoed up the main stair case. Whatever have we here? Elisa stilled her steps and inched towards the edge of the banister. She then carefully sank to her knees and leaned forward, so as to peek through the wooden bars. All she could make out was two pairs of boot-clad legs.

As she listened to the men’s conversation, she disctinly recognized one of the gentleman’s voices, though she couldn’t place his name. The other man was a stranger to her. A stranger with a very smooth french accent. Another one of the dignitaries perhaps? She quickly thought through the list of men that her father had invited to the castle, but most of them had already returned back to their home countries, or had ridden with him into battle. If not a dignitary, then who?

But that was not part of the plan. We had a deal.

"Qui, but now the plan has changed. Tell me where they keep it…"

The men had begun to move further away, taking their conspiring words with them. She wondered what they were up to but knew she would have to get closer to find out. She shrugged. Might as well make myself useful around here. With a smile at her own jest, she carefully rose and began her descent. Her back remained pressed tightly against the wall. Her slippers treading carefully upon the marbled stairs.

With every step the room opened up to her, revealing the grand oak doors of the castle entryway, the glossy stone floor etched with the Brasov family crest, and the luminous chandelier that gave her a perfect view of the stranger within their walls. His face was animated, and his hands danced in the air with threatening gestures. The other man’s visage was neatly turned away from her. For a moment, she thought the crazed man had glanced in her direction, causing very real fear to flood her whole being, but then the two moved further beyond the foyer. She felt herself breathe again.

Elisabeta knew she must not linger out in the open where either man could return and spot her. Since she hadn’t been able to gather any more information, she decided it best to go and find help. Strange that she had not encountered one of the guards already. Before she could think more about this a voice stopped her.

"Bonjour, Princesse. Leaving so soon?"

She turned slowly. Knowing she had been caught she made an effort to play coy. "Have we met, Monsieur? But of course not, I would remember such a well-dressed man as yourself." She saw a gleam of pride fill his eyes at her compliment, but then their green depths turned cynical.

"I am the charmer, Madam? Non. But come, let us finish our game somewhere more…shall we say private?"

The urge to run surged through her. At the same time as her feet turned to flee, he reached for her arm. His grip tightened until she let out a gasp of pain. She wished for all the world that she had kept hidden behind the banister. Why had she not been content enough to stay with her mother? Elisabeta wracked her brain for a plan of some sort. In an effort to delay him, she stomped on his foot and threw back her elbow.

Ahh! You fowl creature! He shook her, rattling her teeth and giving her an instant headache. Come quietly, or I will have my men kill everyone left within these walls.

She quickly did as he bade her. For now, it would be her best option until she could think of something more clever. When he began to drag her in the direction that the other man had gone, her curiosity overcame her.

Where did your friend go? Surely you cannot navigate this place by yourself.

"You know nothing. Now silencieux!"

She held her tongue but kept a wary eye on her surroundings. He seemed to be taking her deeper within the castle, to paths even she had gone before. Still, she saw no guards about which was more than odd. Surely something evil is afoot, now think Elisa. Think! But no course came to mind.

Once they got into the catacombs, she immediately understood two things. Firstly, this man had been here before, for he steered them through the tiny passageways in the dark without faltering. And secondly, that somehow her father was also here, though she knew not how, nor why.

Tată? She whispered his name, having heard his voice in the distance. Instantly they stepped into an alcove of sorts where torches were burning. Their glow gave light to the truth that this man had indeed captutred the King of Brasov.

Tată!

Her father was held back by two men on either side of him. His lip was bloodied, and his left eye was half closed.

"Elisabeta? Nu! Leave her alone. This is between us, Count!"

She gasped when it became clear that the man next to her was none other than the infamous Count Denla Quiós. But why are they not on the battlefield? What does he want with Father down here? It mattered not, what mattered was helping them escape. Using the skills her brothers had taught her, she wasted no time. Twisting her wrist free of the count, she ducked low in anticipation of his reach. She then used her full weight to propel into him with her shoulder. This knocked him off balance and gave her a chance to flee to her father. The king had already taken advantage of the confusion to overcome one of his captors, and was throwing a fist to the jaw of the other. Having just reached his side she tugged at his arm, but he immediately swept her behind him. Thus putting her out of reach of the now revived Count.

When the Count drew his sword, she screamed at the top of her lungs. It all happened so fast. One moment her father was standing as her protector, the next he was falling backward with a sword protruding from his abdomen. In absolute rage, she rushed at the Count, shoving him as hard as she could. His face was a mask of complete surprise, and then fear, as she watched his malicious figure plummet into the gurgling depths of the underground cistern.

Nuu!

Elisabeta looked up suddenly to see Gabriel standing off in the distance. His horrified face mirrored her own. She turned and dropped to her knees beside her father. He drew her close, so close that she could see the pain in his eyes and the sweat beading on his brow.

"Fetița mea. The endearment pricked her, and she began to choke on her tears. When he reached up to cradle her cheek, she saw that he wanted to tell her something. I need you to listen closely. Not everything is what it seems. Our kingdom holds great secrets."

Father, what are you saying?

The Count knew what we carry. A treasure...

She gasped, covering her mouth and pulling back from him. Was what he was saying true?

You must find The Keepers, they will help you understand. It is why… He gasped, his breath hitching painfully.

Tată, please, you must save your strength until you can share this with Gabriel.

Nu! He must not know…not yet. The fierceness in his gaze caught her off guard, and when he gripped her hand and made her promise to not tell anyone, she complied.

I promise, Tată. I will not fail you in this.

He then drew something from within the folds of his coat, pressing it firmly into her hands. Without looking at it, she immediately tucked it into her dress. She leaned in closer, as his voice was beginning to crack and his zeal began to wane.

It is why our castel was built as it is, not just to keep others out, but to protect what we keep within.

Gabriel was upon them then, and Elisabeta knew their father would say no more. With tears flowing freely, she placed her hands over her heart and the secret she held there. I’ll make you proud, Tată. I promise.

Chapter 1

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The crowd watched as the pack of young men rode swiftly through the streets. They sat atop large horses dressed in garments similar to the embellished costumes of their riders. Children tugged on the shirts of their fathers, hoping to be hoisted up for a better view. This was not a sight to be missed. Cries of wonder escaped their small lips as the seven groups of horsemen converged in the central square. The Junii festival was about to begin.

Each year the oldest boys in the city participated in the coming of age ceremony. This year would be no different. From where she stood on the castle balcony, Elisabeta could see the painted faces of the Junii, their stern brows and stoic forms belying the sense of anticipation that hung in the air. She had almost not come. Had almost begged off, but her mother had insisted on her attendance. This weeklong festivity would play many roles for their nation. On top of being the annual herald of spring, this year’s fete would be a celebration of victory over the Dark Lord’s onslaught of vengeance, and the coronation of a new king.

As if on cue, her brother Gabriel appeared at the edge of her peripheral. He swept forward to take his place. A hush fell over the crowd below them.

Good people of Brasov, we gather this week to commemorate the traditions of our ancestors, the great Dacian people. Before you are the future of our nation. These young men….

Elisabeta only half listened as her brother explained the proceedings of their week. The endless games that would test the strength and ability of each team. The courtyard picnics where every shopkeeper would turn his booth into an open buffet. And, of course, the dances each night. These were typically her favorite part of the festival. In years past, she would have spent countless hours deciding which of her imported gowns would bring her the most suitors. Her room would be strewn with all varieties of silks, stockings, slippers, and the most glorious jewelry in the land. But not this year. She barely had the heart to attend at all. Hardly had the stomach for such jovial staples.

…and honor our beloved King Andrei.

May he rest in peace!

A chill broke out over her arms at the uniform response of her people. Her father, King Andrei, had been a great leader. To most, his death was a tragedy of war, but to her it was the loss of her life’s brightest light. Over the roar of the people, Elisabeta watched the games begin. The opening ceremony challenged the bravery of each young man.

Each team, noted by their analogous colored bands, offered up their very best to step forward one by one. A group of dancers emerged from the crowd, swirling their skirts and kerchiefs to form a circle around the young man. With spear to the sky, they took turns throwing their pointed staffs upward with great might, their aim to reach higher than those who went before them. When the spear descended the crowd around the young man would scatter for cover. If the young man in the circle’s middle remained standing, showing his tremendous bravery, he would then pass on to the next round.

The exhilaration of the ritual turned her stomach, for with each thrust of the spear, with each clang of its descent, she was swept back into the catacombs. The cheers of the crowd became the shouts of soldiers coming toward her. No longer was the sharpened edge of the spear pointed towards the air above them, instead it was aimed at her and then thrust through her father.

Before she could stop herself, a moan escaped her lips. Her world began to tilt and she reached instinctively for the banister.

Elisa? Are you well?

"Da. Only, I feel overly warm in this heat."

Come, let us fetch you some water.

Thankful for her friend’s discreet ways, Elisabeta allowed herself to be ushered back inside with little notice from the rest of her family, who were otherwise engrossed in the activities below. Rather than head to the kitchens, as she had expected, Katya led her back to her room, and gently tucked her into bed.

"Shall I see that Tusta brings you a light repast as well, or do you suppose you will recover to join us for supper?

I think rest is what I need. I have not been sleeping well as of late. Elisabeta ducked her head slightly as she said this, hoping her childhood friend would not question her further.

"Ja, das es gut. And then you will join us for the dancing?" Her friend smiled gaily, perhaps remembering all the times they had frolicked to their heart’s content when they were but children.

Yes. Perhaps I will feel better then.

But she knew she would not recover, nor did she have any intention of joining in the festivities that eve. Just another lie added to the list of secrets I must keep, she thought grimly as she watched her friend retreat out the door. In the weeks since her father had been killed, the weight of his insights had borne heavily upon her. Even as a child, she had been the most terrible liar. Secrets were not long for being kept upon lips such as hers.

Now she must learn to safeguard her tongue from giving away even the most insignificant of clues. If even a fraction of what her father had revealed held truth, then a slip from her would mean grave danger for them all. And she would not be the cause of any more deaths. One life has already cost me so much; I will not fail the rest.

"Iarta ma, Tată." Tears flooded her cheeks, and she immediately pressed her face into her pillow. Perhaps, at least for now, she could end her own misery in a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke, it was already the next Sunday. The week had passed in a dismal blur. Though her eyes had roamed the dancers’ stone covered floor, her feet had remained planted among the onlooking crowd. Her nose had breathed in the wonderful delights of her favorite dishes, but little sustenance had filled her belly.

She rose later than the sun and retired before she could be cornered by the concerned cares of her loved ones. Her new schedule was working well to keep her from betraying anything to her brothers. Indeed, Gabriel didn’t seem at all interested in what had passed between herself and the king. Either that, or he had missed the exchange altogether. Still, her plan seemed best. Unfortunately, her mother did not agree.

Elisabeta, you are still abed? This is the Lord’s Day. You will rise with the rest of us, and join our vigils in the chapel.

Though Queen Melita—soon to be Queen Mother—voice was anything but stern, Elisabeta did detect a rueful note underneath her words. To know she was causing distress brought her out of bed much faster than any rebuke would have. Indeed, she almost wished her mother would yell. The tone of worry only added to Elisabeta’s guilt.

I am much recovered today, Mamă. You must not fret over me.

"But fret I have, fica mea. If your father were here, he would…"

What would he do, Mamă?

Well he would be here, that is what. But come, we are late already. They will be waiting for us.

Yes, Mamă.

With few words, she quickly worked her way into the gown her mother was holding out to her. When she didn’t even try to fuss over the frills or ribbons, her mother quirked a single brow. Elisabeta pretended not to notice. In fact, she no longer found pleasure in the pretentious things she once did. What were flounces, and bows, and shiny shoes when one no longer had the will to wear them?

She was in mourning, so no one had questioned the abrupt change in her attire. Perhaps they were all hoping that with time things would go back to normal. That she would find herself again. But Elisabeta would not go back to that girl. She had been too naive and utterly helpless. Nu, if I am to protect them all from the danger that lies within our castel, then I must never go back.

Rather than follow their usual path to their family’s private chapel, her mother led her along the dirt trail toward the church of St. Nicholas. It was a garish structure, with its jutted dark stones and uneven siding. The bell tower was its best feature, having been constructed by her late father as an act of goodwill toward the townspeople. In stark contrast to the gaudy backdrop, was the wondorous sight of the the people of Brasov themselves.

I am so glad that Gabriel went ahead with the festival. It was my anticipation that this celebration would remind the people of the hope of new life. Katya had found her way up to them and loped her arm through Elisabeta’s. The two of them then walked side by side behind the queen.

I had forgotten how this day felt. Elisabeta quite agreed, Yes, it is good for us to remember who we are. Father would be pleased to see us honoring the Lord together.

The whole city seems to have come out this morn. Will the church be able to hold us all?

Elisabeta then smiled at her friend’s innocence. Katya had only ever spent her summers here in Brasov, having lived with her parents in Germana. She had never had the chance to share in their spring customs. "Nu, but the abbots will have made preparations, putting up extra benches, and opening the balcony to hold more families. For those who cannot be housed within, the windows are propped open so that all can take