Cover Text:

Daphne is set to become Queen of Sithich. Her father, Jovin, the current King of Sithich therefore gives her the choice of three different Princes to choose her husband from. Daphne is not at all satisfied with the three princes. Amino is too vain, Galeno is too feeble, and Samir is not to be read at all. Furthermore, the choice left to her is slimmer than anticipated. She had imagined her future as Queen since her childhood. She aspired to free her folk from the tyrannical rule of her father, but this dream depends on who was to become her husband. All the while Daphne’s life is in great danger. Someone has hired the Cike, a group of nomadic assassins, to kill the Princess. The burden of Daphne’s assassination falls on Yun. He struggles with his conscience, for all that is known about the Princess is that she is a proud yet compassionate woman, that has never done wrong in her life. Besides, no one could deny her enchanting fairy-like beauty.

Extract:

Yun’s POV:

It was dark. The whole castle lay in silence, and no light was to be found burning in any of the windows. It must have been somewhere between two and three in the morning, and all that was to be heard was the occasional clatter of armor, as the guards moved about on their lookout for danger. So too lay the room of the Princess in utter silence and darkness, while she was sound asleep, unaware of the shadowy figure that had climbed up the castle walls to her open window, through which not only the warm summer air drifted.

Dragging himself up upon the windowsill, he climbed through the window and found to his left the wooden bed on which the sleeping beauty lay. His victim. The one he was after. He unsheathed his knife from the belt upon his hips and slowly drew closer to the bed and to his unknowing prey. He now stood above her. His hand holding the knife held high, his eyes darting down on her. There she was. Her features he knew well. They had burned themselves into his head the moment he had first beheld her. How could he have forgotten her long, luscious blonde curls that framed her well-rounded face, making her rosy cheeks stand out?

In his mind he saw exactly what must be done. He would have to let the knife come down upon her with enough force to make it glide smoothly through her fair skin. The surest chance of killing her quickly, without causing a scene, would be to pierce the skin lying above her heart, where the light blanket that covered the rest of her body ended. Her sleeping position was perfect to execute this dreadful plan. She lay on her back, her face turned to the ceiling, her hands thrown up above her head, tangled in her curls. But then suddenly she started to stir. Her until now relaxed face twisted into a grimace, as though in pain and she lightly kicked her feet as if fending off an attacker. Was she about to wake up? Was she about to discover him standing above her?

No, she was merely dreaming. He had only to execute his order quickly, and the ghastly business would be over. Her dream seemed to be of an intense nature, for she had begun to murmur as well. One could scarcely describe it as talking, rather an incomprehensible mumbling. Yet she seemed distressed, as if even in her slumber she could sense the danger. Her restlessness might rouse a maid to come and check upon her, which would be more than just a mere nuisance to his task. Why, then, could he not bring himself to fulfill this simple order, which had been bestowed upon him now for the second time? He could sense that her dream brought her near to arousing herself, for her mumbling grew louder and louder. And just as she was about to open her mouth to release a scream, one that would undoubtedly have alarmed someone within the castle, he threw himself upon her. One hand covered her mouth, the other pressed her arms, still spread out above her head, down into her cushioned bed. She opened her eyes. In the darkness they appeared black, and he could see the horror in them. When she noticed the knife clutched in the hand restraining hers, a little squeak escaped her lips. Her gaze travelled back to his eyes, which hovered above her own and stared at her with unrelenting intensity.

What was he to do now? Reveal himself to her? Attempt to kill her? Or risk everything by bolting through the open window?

Daphne’s POV:

She had woken terrified, both by her dream and the weight she suddenly felt pressing upon her. The dream itself had been of a violent nature. She had been pursued by men dressed all in black, their faces covered with silken cloths, only their eyes revealed. In those eyes there had been bloodlust, which had terrified her to the very core and sent her into a state of panic.

When she looked at the figure now hovering above her, he resembled those men from her dreams, yet she was almost certain she knew who he was, the one who had her pinned to her own bed. His bright green eyes, gleaming even through the darkness of the night, betrayed him, though the rest of his face remained hidden by the black fabric. To be absolutely certain it was him, however, she needed to see his whole face. Seizing the brief moment when his grip upon her arms slackened, she quickly withdrew her left arm and pulled away the silken covering that had hence concealed the lower part of his countenance.