The Unknown: A love story to remember

By Dawn Solis

When sweet Evangeline is stolen from her abusive father's castle, she thought she was saved. But when a savior king turns into a corrupt one, and a villain isn't who she seems to be, Evangeline's already rocky life turns upside down. 

A traitor, a murderer, a King and a victim. All bound to fall in love. All bound to die. What could p

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Solis
• Release date: Aug 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088257012

Dawn Solis

Dawn Solis was born in 2005 to a loving, crazy family, but through trials and heartbreak she found her love of dark writing. She spends a majority of her time writing poetry and novels.

Book preview

1

Prologue: The Tower

Evangeline

I am cold, so cold.

I pulled my knees closer to my chest, trying to warm myself. Winter was finally here, creeping through the cracks in the cobblestones, sapping the warmth from my small room.

I fight off another shiver as it racks through me, clutching my arms tighter around my own chest. 

I would give anything for a blanket or a bed. I do not think the chill would seep through my bones as easily if I was off the hard, cobblestone ground.

I do not know if I will make it this year. My hands were already breaking, bleeding with the freeze. The thought pushed a sob through my chattering teeth.

Once the first cry broke through I couldn’t hold back the rest. My body is shaking, with fear and cold.

My body gets weaker and weaker every year. My bones peak through my  skin now, my body slowly breaking. 

I clench my hands tighter and feel the skin breakaway underneath my fingertips.

My brain and my body are two different entities, fighting against each other to stay alive trying to keep itself alive. 

Blood is running down my arms. The warmth of it is a welcome reprieve to the cold air coasting over my skin.

I resist the urge to peel at my skin to get more of that warmth.I know it will only end badly for me. Soon the blood will cool, and all I have left is the shaking of my body.

I cry harder as the realization that the likelihood that I will make it through the night is slim. Is my torment finally over? Perhaps I broke too much to be fixed, the shattered pieces of myself so ruined that they couldn't be put back together again.

 I know that the guards can hear me falling deeper into the pit of despair that resides in my stoned cell. I cannot help but hold out for the hope someone will hear my cries and show mercy on me. I know that I will be in trouble, but maybe they will bring me a blanket too, if only so it will shut me up.

Surely mother and father won’t let me die, right? Even in my brokenness I have to better than the disgrace of losing a daughter to wickedness. Surely, even in their hate for me they must know that the gossip that would follow would be worse than any sin I could commit.

My vision was blurry, I prayed for a second chance, a chance to go back and rewrite my narrative, take away my own innocence and replace it with the hate and bitterness I have come to understand is the language of the world that I live in. 

 Relief flows through me at the sight of my nursemaid. Despite my age she stayed, became a constant in my life. I like to think she stayed because she loved me, that she cared for me because she saw me as more than a helpless child. I know now it was because she was paid, that no one else would take up the job once I came of age. That the kindness she showed me wasn't really kindness at all, but was hate hidden behind a facade of love. 

You need to hush. she says. The guards can hear you outside. Her voice is clipped, as it always is.  She was kinder than my father, more genuine than my mother but I learned early on that when all the fruit is rotten you learn to bite around the dark bits.

It is so…cold. I gasped out, as every breath I took ran fire through my lungs. If only it was not so painful the fire might hopefully soothe me to sleep.

Cama sighs, laying her hands on her hips. What do you expect me to do about it, child?

I say nothing as I think about her words. All I wish for is the warmth of her body, for her to hold me like an infant until the shivering and shaking and bleeding stops.

But I cannot ask, for it would not happen. I cannot ask for a fire, as I have never been allowed to have a fire near my person. They are two afraid I would throw myself into it. Which is strange, since I am a coward as much as they are.  All I can do is hope that I lose my consciousness before I lose my life tonight. Cama leaves, letting the door slam behind her. The noise made me flinch, and the flinching makes my aching muscles scream.

Go to sleep. I chant to myself.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

Go to—

2

Council Meeting

Mansa

This meeting was going to rot my brain from the inside out. War is coming to Buso soon, obviously, so why do we have to do all of this insanity? Kral was getting out of hand. I had been content to let the evil stay in its borders for the time being, but they were getting on my last nerve. The disease that was their insanity was spreading quicker by the day. The disgusting creatures that held their swords were getting closer to our borders, and their cruelties were gaining creativity that was making even me shudder. . Andre informed me of their new law yesterday, and I immediately scheduled a meeting. They legalized this thing called a Bride price. A disgusting fucking thing. A barbaric act of sexism, I was by no means a feminist, but even I know the importance of consent in a marriage.

Men are paying these girls’ fathers to marry them. Some women do not even get a choice in the matter. Not only that, but they lowered the age of legal marriage to twelve—twelve! Children were being forced into these marriages.

They have absolutely no consent laws. The thought made me sick.

I slouched down in my chair, letting my thoughts cloud over while the council bickered with each other on the why and the when. People thought that being King meant being in power, but being King just means learning to put up with people's bullshit.

All I cared about was the slashing of swords. I was not the brains of the operation; I was the muscle. The very thought of getting that dreadful King out of power warms my heart, even if I am a King myself. The fact that it is the last island on the continent that is not under my reign sweetens the deal.

They circle back to Kral’s cruelty and my stomach continues to knot itself. Women in Buso are respected and taken care of.. They are treated with civility. At the maximum, treated like goddesses. I would be surprised that men in Buso knew what respect was.

I listen as my spies justify my proposal. A poorly trained army with the generals barely being able to keep their recruits in line.

We make our plan, and I am confident it will go on without a hitch. It always does. Three kings and twenty years later, and we have never lost a battle.

Our victory has spanned through my rein, my father’s rein and his father’s rein. Our family name, Cadell, is stained with the blood of our neighboring countries, our treasury filled with their crowns. 

I refuse to be the first king that fails a siege, and so I turn over the battle strategies and plans in my head like candy in my mouth. 

I stand with the council as we dismiss and shake their hands as they leave. However, as they leave, I stay, readying my mind for what is going to happen tomorrow. If I do not do it now, I will do it while I am trying to sleep. And as my father taught me, a tired king makes a terrible warrior.

So I stayed. My gut told me that this would be an easy battle but the fear of the unknown kept me at my desk, restlessly turning the papers over and over in my head. I'm racking my brain for anyway this battle could possibly go wrong

I flicked open the large velvet curtains, their purple hue casting a dark aura in the room, and looked down at my city. At my kingdom. The sprawling landscape was covered in tall houses, lights illuminating the streets below. I traced the narrow streets with my eyes as they perfectly guard my castle from siege, I watched the orphans being hurried inside; watching as they grudgingly shuffled into the doors of their home. I wonder if they know they live next to a whore house? Do they care? 

I know merging Kral’s people with mine would be a hard transition, after all their laws are so much different than mine. I want to save the future generations from Kral’s terrible practices but I cannot help but regret not wiping out the entire population  for acting like abominations.

Finally giving in to the harsh glare of the night sky, I stalk through the dark passageway, having to take the lesser corridors in order to dodge my subjects. I appreciate the people in my kingdom but I know that I would kill the first person I saw. The night before a battle is the hardest, not because of the fear of tomorrow but because of the need to sink my sword into any tiny annoyance. 

I’m ready to teach those Kral scoundrels some respect. I lay down to sleep, dreaming of war. 

***

All of the warriors awake at dawn. We saddle the war horses and load the extra swords and shields to the beasts. 

I pat my horse's hindquarters, hoping that I can name him after this battle. Unfortunately, not all men will make it to tomorrow, and the same falls for the horses. A horse can only be in two battles if they are in the fray. It is a good way to make sure that we can keep the bloodlines strong, and keep our horses capable of maintaining us during battle. 

The air is crisp, and I take deep breaths of it as my hands fasten the leather holding it into place.

I meet Andre at the border of the wall before we leave the castle. The look he gives me is not anything less than feral.

There is my favorite Hand! I shout, clapping him on the back. 

His dusty brown hair is ruffled, no doubt by his lover. The lover of which is walking out behind him. I look closely, seeing a hickey on Tormund’s neck. I’m sure if we all make it out the men will no doubt give him crap for it later. 

 Andre rolls his brown eyes, stating, I’m your only Hand. 

I snorted, looking at him one last time. I could feel his nerves, his adrenaline. I could feel it too. The adrenaline in my bones is amplified by the fact that the men have already started singing our war song.

Their low baritone voices rolled through the makeshift camp right on the inside the castle walls. The echoing of the bloodthirsty men made me shiver. 

Is my King ready to become an Emperor? Andre prods. I throw my head back with a laugh. Andre knows the answer already.

Only time will tell, I smile, Now tell the men to ready their horses!. I say doing so myself. Andre calls for the men to be ready and we line up before the doors open.

I turn my steed around, staring at my finest warriors. They all shift impatiently. I knew the war song was humming in their veins as much as it was in mine. My father used to tell stories of these moments as did all the kings and warriors of my family, they used to say the ground would almost hum along with he men with how much tension was in the air. These men were killers, warriors picked from the finest armies, most of them were covered in scars of war,; decked head to toe in armor built to show off the sheer power these men carried. I have no feelings for these men, when they die they will just be bodies for the survivors to carry home. However, in these moments I cannot help but feel pride in the Kingdom I've created. 

Be fast. Be smart. We all know that our training far exceeds theirs, and we have the advantage. But never, I say it louder to get my point across, "never underestimate your enemy." I could paint them a picture of victory but I knew they would rather die than disappoint me.

 I take one last breath to steady myself as I look over the faces of my fellow warriors.

I give the palace guards the signal to open the gates. And realize the people have lined the roads leading out of the city. This was supposed to be an ambush. How do the civilians know about it? The King side of my brain races about traitors and spies.

I snap my head to Andre who brings his horse closer to mine. The wives of the soldiers sir.

I stay quiet, the hunch of my shoulders tells Andre all he needs to know, the battle must already be getting to my head.

You’ll be buried in a bloody casket with the noose of those you killed wrapped around your neck, a voice whispered, sounding suspiciously like the phrase my Mother used to say to my father when he went off to war. I brush it away, in battle there is no time for fear of damnation there is only the fear of failure.

It was usual for the citizens to throw parades when we left the city. Throwing flowers and handing bundles of food to the passing soldiers.

It was for good luck. Warm feet and full bellies are one of the best ways to win a war, so it was practical too. 

This is the first surprise attack in a while, so I guess the wives wanted to continue that tradition with heavy hearts. Their faces hold nothing but grief. Even though I knew this would be a simple battle compared to most, there would still be losses. I dip my chin in respect and usher my horse forward.

It was time for war.

3

Broken Girl

Mansa

I storm through the line, forcing my way through the men in front of me. They are all smaller than us, obviously from a weaker and poorer country. It would surprise me if the king had enough money to feed them all last night. 

The castle sits at the top of the hill. The small, squatty walls painted green with algae and mistreatment. Messengers ran back and forth, small boys not yet old enough to hold a sword, but old enough for violence. They are nameless, and many. Walls are breached your Majesty! One would yell at me, before darting away, only staying long enough to get my nod of acknowledgement. "Whispers are rolling through the lines that the guards in charge of the watch tower were asleep." Another screeches, his prepubescent voice slicing my ears with his fear. 

I take down another soldier and slash at his arm. A shallow cut but still he screams as if I gutted him.

Pathetic.

We were making it through the walls quickly. Not because we were killing them, no. It was because they were surrendering.

Rookies and cowards.

This was by far the fastest battle we had ever won. I flick my wrist again, disabling two more men. 

My body felt light. Strong. I was upset that this was going so fast. I would have appreciated some type of fight. Before I even notice, I’m at the front door of the castle, the old wood door splintered underneath my feet. 

I take a moment to orientate myself, slightly disappointed at the lack of ornamentation on the walls. Instead, the only thing on the off-white walls is the blood from the dead soldiers littered at my feet. 

The Council told me that this was a poor country, but I am still amazed. How did he manage to feed his people? 

Sir. This way. Andre pokes his head out from behind the door, his musty blond head stuck together with blood and gore. I say nothing, just follow him as he leads the way. His muscular frame makes quick work of maneuvering past the corpses and fallen blades on the ground. 

Finally, I get to the last door. Two guards stand there, piss wetting their pants. 

Andre and I raise our swords, and the men—if you could even call them that—guarding the royal family hurriedly open the door. 

The balding king was already crying, his poor wife hovering in embarrassment behind him. They looked alike-blonde hair and blue eyes- and I’m sure that they are distant cousins. Most poorer countries do that-their way of feeling superior to the peasants below them. 

I could not even say a word before the King of Kral—who was also called Kral for some insipid reason—was on his knees.

A deal! Please! I’m begging you! Spare me! He is thin, and frail, and if I saw him in the street I’m sure I would