Born to Run

Prologue

Morton Mansfield stared in my direction. “You look lovely this evening, Your Highness,” he said charmingly. The nerve! To flirt with a married woman, pregnant with her husband’s child—outrageous!

I sat up taller in my chair. “Thank you, Advisor Mansfield,” I said coolly, putting him in his place. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to hear from my husband. It has been eight months since I last heard from him, and I have missed him dreadfully.” I paused, looking straight into his eyes. “If you will?”

“Yes, your Highness, right away,” he nodded with a bow. Slowly, but surely, the advisor opened the letter marked with the Broderick seal. “To my advisor, Morton Mansfield,” he read aloud in a slow manner, testing my patience with each breath.

I could take no more. I stood quickly, and snatched the letter from his long, claw-like fingers. His expression was priceless. The guards moved forward, unsure who to find fault with. “Excuse me,” I said quickly, feeling the deep red well up in my cheeks. I hurried towards the bedchamber that Edward, my husband and I shared. I sat down on the bed, and took in the words hungrily.

To my advisor, Sir Mansfield: 

I hope that this letter finds everyone in the palace in excellent health, especially Her Royal Highness, Queen Fiona Lander Broderick.

Not much can be said about the state that everyone is in where I am. We are in war, of course, and I have seen many things that should not be seen by any human being. The plague is taking many lives, probably even more than the war has stolen. I worry for the men who are with me on the frontlines. We are losing soldiers quickly, and it seems as though this war cannot be won. I am not one to admit to surrender, but it seems as though it is our only option.

Fear that my beloved could get hurt tore into my soul. No. Please no. He has to see

his baby!

Thus, we have submitted to surrender. Many of our men have been kept as hostages, and I pray that no more lives are taken. I am lucky to have escaped at the last minute. I am now at a loss of what to do. Please tell Her Highness that I am trying to stay safe, but it looks as though I might never come home. 

The three words rattled 

loudly in my ears. Never come home. Not to see the baby, not to see me.

Sincerely,

His Royal Highness

King Edward Broderick

I stared at the thin piece of paper that I held tightly in my grasp, still trying to comprehend the facts that were written neatly on the yellow page. My hand flew to my abdomen as the baby kicked softly, instantly reminding me of what was now. Not what was in the past. Eventually, even a queen has to move on.

“Tragic news, milady,” Morton said softly from the doorway.

He had known—even before he had read the letter. He had known, and avoided telling me.

“Why?” I whispered, the word escaping suddenly from my lips.

“His Highness did not want you to worry, milady,” Morton said gently, stepping into the room.

I rose from the bed, feeling the fire burn within me. “Worry?” I screamed. “Have I not worried enough? Is there no end to this?” I was shaking violently now. Why, Edward? Why now? When I need you the most?

Morton slid his arm around my waist. “Your Highness, please…”

I saw the fire in his eyes. He had always loved me. Ever since I moved into the palace, Morton Mansfield had fought to be by my side, whether or not my husband approved. “Pay no mind, dearest,” Edward had said when I told him about the advisor. “A flower can be admired by many from afar, but only one gardener will ever be able to pick it.”