His Reluctant Bride

Prologue

Prologue

The boy in the cupboard was young; barely seven, and completely frightened. He had been locked up by his three elder brothers, a few hours before and had been left. No one had noticed his absence.

It was a very dark night, with the grey clouds rolling in heavy with thunder and rain, but the small cupboard was even darker, with no cracks or holes, and very cold. The boy was all alone, curled in the corner, by a pile of folded blankets, and pressed laundry, his hopes for being discovered by one of the royal staff, long diminished.

The inhabitants of the castle had all retired to bed hours ago, and even the guards outside, who were standing guard, were on the verge of dozing off. It was a quiet night so far. Except for the fearful whimpers of the young prince no one could hear, lost in the open space of the cupboard.

The cupboard itself was made of hard oak wood, styled elaborately to fit in the large castle that belonged to a very wealthy royal pair. There was no breaking it or cracking – he had already tried and failed, and now his small shoulder was bruised. The wood, on the other hand, was smooth without any scratches or dents.

It was going to be a long night. The clouds were beginning to grumble, disturbing the fragile peace and causing the drowsy guards to stir and run for shelter. The attack of heavy rain was lost on the frightened prince, but the first flash of thunder was not. It crackled as it lit up the night sky, splitting sections of it between it forked shapes.

The Prince’s scream was drowned in the loud rumbling that rolled after the loud cackles. He shivered, curling deeper, his thin arms wrapped around his small legs. There was no one awake or around to witness his terror. No one to wonder why he was not tucked in his bed and crying for his nanny. He was all alone.

The second flash had him jumping in panic, and pressing himself to the even inner walls of the cupboard. He wondered if anyone would wake up and realize he was trapped. But the thought vanished as another crackle of thunder reached his sensitively aware ears.

Hot, large tears dripped from his honey coloured eyes, some getting trapped in his damp lashes, most rolling down his cold cheeks and sliding close to the curve of his lips. The salty taste of his tears spread in his dry mouth.

Something stirred in his stomach as he rolled back into a ball, his tiny fingers clutching the fabric of his breeches, pulling his shaky legs closer. His small form was a bundle of frightened quivers, and his lips were slightly parted, the sound of trapped fear escaping through every now and then. The idea of sleep was lost under the layers of fear.

It was the third flash of thunder that brought with it the knowledge that he was not the only inhabitant of the cupboard. A small noise reached his ears, a tinkling squeak that had no resemblance to small shrill sound of a mouse squeak. It caught his attention and distracted his young mind.

It was then he felt the small shiver run up the pile of clothes. Even his young mind found it strange that a harmless pile of clothes was trembling. It was a completely unintentional move that knocked over the pile, but he had just found another thing that scared him.

His feet knocked over the neatly pressed clothes as he hastily shuffled away. A strange thing happened as the pile was disrupted. The cupboard lit up slightly with a dull golden glow. It caused the prince to squint, even though the light of the glow was weak – almost fading to white.

Fascination caused him to lean over the heaps of clothes, no doubt his father or his brothers riding tunics for the hunt tomorrow, and peer at the small light that was glowing under a thin strip of fabric. Without a moment’s hesitation he removed it and gasped in wonder.