The Lefko Trilogy

Prologue

Questyn tightly gripped the candelabra as its light broke the cold darkness in front of her. The soles of her bare feet padded against the thick carpet that spread down the hallway. Slowly, she crept across the castle, pausing if there was even the slightest sound in the dark. Her black hair fell into her silver eyes, as the dim ring of light emitting from her candle shone upon the solid wall at the end of the corridor. Questyn slowed and pressed her weight against the wooden panel in the corner. It slid open soundlessly, revealing an old servant's staircase. She held the candle out in front of herself to shed light on the narrow stairs. Quietly, she took the first step.

Her thin nightgown billowed around her ankles as she closed the makeshift door behind her and hurried down the dusty stairs. As far as she knew, no one used this staircase any more, but Questyn didn't want to take a chance. The castle had been in a state of chaos all day and Queen Krystia had been furious. She had recently dismissed the palace's head cook for bringing white wine instead of red to dinner. However, the man who had stepped in as a replacement was inadequate at creating even the simplest of meals. Anditan, as he was called, simply could not cook. Queen Krystia was a bitter and angry woman; the absence of substantial meals had put her in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

Questyn slipped through the door at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen. Despite the events that had transpired, the room was nearly spotless. She placed the candelabra on the large wooden table in the center of the space and went to search for food. The meals of the day had barely been edible. Fatigued, Questyn opened the icebox.

All I want is a small meal, she reasoned with herself as she placed a hunk of cheese and loaf of bread next to the shrinking candle. In her hand, she held a gleaming knife. As she greedily cut her first slice of cheese, Questyn heard a noise behind her. She froze instantly. Loud footsteps sounded in the darkness. Dropping the knife and cheese, she rushed back to the hidden staircase.

Questyn heard a deep voice behind her back before she could slip away. "What are you doing here?" The words were slurred. A sense of relief settled into her mind. It wasn't the Queen. Calmly, the girl turned around to face the source of the voice. He was a tall, thick man with scraggly black hair and bloodshot eyes. Questyn faltered slightly at the sight. A night of drinking had washed away his day. Words stuck in her throat; Antitan's face became crimson.

"What are you doing in my kitchen?" he bellowed.

"I was hungry," Questyn squeaked. She shrunk back toward the door, hoping she could still escape up the servant's staircase.

"You didn't like my food?" Anditan took a threatening step forward.

Questyn flinched back further. "It wasn't that-"

Anditan's red eyes flickered to the bread and cheese on the table. He slammed his fist down onto the thick oak table as rage built up in his face. "You didn't like my food!"

Questyn let out a scream as his meaty fist gripped her arm and pulled her close to him. His other hand slapped her across the jaw, stinging when it connected with her skin. She tasted blood in her mouth and terror flooded through her veins as he growled, "Shut up. I'm going to give you something any whore like you would love." His mouth was hot against her cheek, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. She struggled against his grip, but his fingers only squeezed her arm tighter.

"Let me go," Questyn whimpered as Anditan ran his tongue down her neck. "Please!" she begged.

"I said shut up!" He shoved her back against the table. She kicked him away and scrambled across the wooden slab. He caught the hem of her nightgown with fire in his eyes. He yanked her back, tearing the weak fabric in his grasp. Tears coursed down her face as he harshly pulled her back to him.