Protector of the Crown

Chapter One

Chapter One

Thirteen Years Later...

My eyes shot open as the rising sun broke through the small window above my bed. Every year at the time of their deaths, my dreams were only of the day I'd lost my whole family. It had happened thirteen years ago but in every dream it was as clear and vivid as the day it happened. I still smelled their blood, the blood of the family I loved, the family who all were joined together in eternal sleep, leaving me behind.

I looked around my small quarters to settle my mind and bring me back to the present. My assigned quarters were no bigger than a prison cell. My bed was small, but long enough to hold my 5'9" frame perfectly. I was lucky that way, being one of the only women among the Protectors. The men, all usually 6' or taller, ended up having their feet dangling over the edge. Slowly I moved my eyes around the room, taking in the familiar cool stone walls, plain wooden desk, and my trunk of measly possessions.

With a sigh, I stretched my body in preparation for the day. It was my final test day, if I passed; I would officially become a Protector and be assigned to either the elite task force for our military or assigned to protect the wealthy and powerful of the kingdom.

Many, many years ago, long before my grandfather's life, the world fell. Darkness crept across the lands as resources ran low as people wanted more. There were uprisings, greed, and death. There was only war until one man stepped up to unite the remaining people who had survived the horrors of constant battle, starvation, and exposure. In the midst of all the darkness, a young man named Michael of the House of Armstrong, stood and vowed to unite the people. Michael, along with a group of trusted advisors, including my ancestor, Leon Luther, created a new kingdom called Arlington, where all men were equal and no one would ever be left to starve while the rich feasted ever again. The people, desperate for hope, followed him. In time, peace had returned to the land. With peace, the people focused on rebuilding and creating sustainable resources so we would never fall into a time of despair again. Not long after, the people called for a king. The greatest king, King Michael the Great of the House of Armstrong, was crowned and all was well for one hundred years...until it wasn't. Many years later, shortly before I was born, a new King and Queen were crowned.

The Princess Louisa, a distant descendant of King Michael the Great, wed a wealthy man with an exuberant amount of power, David of the House of Thorn. The day Louisa's father died was the day our kingdom fell once again.

The newly crowned King David ripped through the kingdom, taking as much power as he could, then demanding more. The Queen became a figurehead; she never once stepped out with a smile after her coronation. The rumor was that King David abused and tormented his wife, wanting all the power in the kingdom and in his personal life. He fed off her fear. The Queen bore two sons, Prince Marcus and Prince Jackson before her death. It was reported that she died of illness, but there was the belief that the King finally drove his Queen to her death after years of abuse.

After his son's birth, the King decided it was time to take more and create more restrictions from the people. My father, a member of the King's advisors, a title the entire line of the first born children in my family possessed, fought the King alongside other longstanding advisors. They paid the price. King David, the ruthless and heartless man he was, killed them all and their families...all but me.

Jonah saved me and raised me as a Protector. The mission of the Protectors was a simple one: serve, protect, and defend the kingdom. The Protectors were created by King Michael to keep us safe from other kingdoms who would not join his cause to unite and protect the people. It was once a noble and exceptional life, but it had turned down a dark path with the new King. Our mission was to service the kingdom, and the King was the head of the kingdom.

My training was lethal...in my years training I'd seen many prospects die from our lessons. The Protectors physically and mentally drain you and break you down to nothing and then build you back up into the perfect warrior. Nearly all the Protectors were men, but there were a few women, most orphans like me. We were never treated any differently as women; we were held to the same high standard as all Protectors and given the same respect as the men.

I was lucky to have Jonah, he told me stories of my parents and sister. Thanks to him I didn't lose myself entirely to the demands of becoming a Protector. I was made into a ruthless, elite warrior, but I kept my heart. Jonah said this would make me the greatest warrior, for the most remarkable warriors had something more to fight for.

"Mia," Jonah's deep and steady voice boomed across my small room, "Are you ready?"

I slept in my clothes for my test. After months of written tests, psychological tests, and tests of our wills, the final test to become a Protector was to fight a seasoned Protector. It was brutal. Most didn't pass and had to go through the last two years of training again. Some died. I planned on succeeding. My goal was to join my kingdom's military as an elite squad member; I had no interest in protecting the King or his heirs after what he did to my father.

I hopped out of bed and turned to Jonah, "I'm ready."

Jonah smiled, "You look just like your mother."

I turned to my tiny mirror and took in what he said. His comment filled my heart with some warmth after the chill I had following my dream. I was tall for a woman, something I received from my father. Like my mother, I had a warm olive skin tone, delicate features, and carried my lean form with grace. I remembered my mother dancing in the kitchen, her movements full of grace and elegance. I had more muscle than she did and quite a few more scars, thanks to my years of physical training to become a Protector, but the similarity was unmistakable.

I pulled my long, auburn brown, hair into a bun. The other women kept their hair short for training as it was easier with our timed showers, but my mother had the most beautiful waist length auburn hair, keeping it long was my way to honor her. The only difference between my mother and I, besides my height, was my eyes. Hers were a rich, beautiful brown while mine were the exact emerald green color as my fathers. Whenever I looked into a mirror, my eyes glowed back, reminding me of my father and my family.

"Thank you," I said, smiling at my father figure. He rarely reminded me of how much I looked like my mother; I think it hurt him to see her in me after her death. And my eyes, he said, reminded them of his darkest and most painful memory of seeing my father shot.

"I've put in a good word for you to join the military, Mia. As our top recruit they would be insane not to put you in the elite squad," Jonah said, reaching down and handing me my utility boots.

I sat down and completed my uniform. It was made of specially designed all black fabric to look professional but also functional enough to fight in. I wore fitted pants and a matching black long sleeve shirt. I slid my boots on and stood up. I was ready to finish my training.

"Jonah, you've done everything for me. I can't thank you enough," I said smiling, "Thank you for taking care of me."

Jonah smiled sadly, "It's been my greatest pleasure to be a part of your life, though I wish you hadn't needed me at all," the guilt of my family ate him up inside. Initially I hated him. I hated him for turning on my family, but after a few years training to be a Protector, I knew he had no choice.

I stepped up and gave him a small hug, "Wish me luck," I murmured. He hugged me tight and then stepped back.

Jonah grasped my forearm with his hand and I returned the gesture: a Protector's shake. My olive skin glowed against his dark skin, "Go knock them on their asses."

"Yes sir."