Illuminated: Book One of the White Road Chronicles

Chapter 1

The rake's weathered handle left splinters despite the many callouses covering her palms. The girl stopped her work a moment to dig one of the larger ones out. Once her hands were soft and adorned with jewels, her clothing made of the finest silks and satins. Now she wore stained linen skirts that allowed winter's biting cold to chill her bones.

Her choice to walk away from her royal position, and she'd not allow herself to regret making that choice. Even if she missed her fur coats and soft bed on days such as this. Oh, and the stunning view of the sun setting behind the mountain ranges. Her stomach rumbled. She'd not think about the delectable dishes she and King Darnel, her so-called, not-real-father, used to share.

"Stop right now." She banged the rake's prongs against the stone floor. Even thinking his despicable name sent worse chills down her back than the cold did. No, she'd not think about what she no longer had. She'd only consider of the possibility of one day making an escape. Somehow, somewhere, someway, there was a means to get down the mountain.

She refocused on the task at hand. If Ben, the dungeon master, walked in on her simply standing around, he might use the switch on her again. The girl chewed on her bottom lip, forcing her thoughts to not wander. She had to get back on Ol' Ben's good side. Had to.

A beam of morning sunlight filtered in through one of the high windows in the holding room of the prison. Yes, she had to keep her thoughts on the good. For now, she was free of her cruel step-father. Or as free as she could get at the moment. Until she found a way to escape.

At least here, despite the musty odor and dusty air of the abandoned-stables-turned-prison-cells, she had much more freedom than when she lived in the lush rooms of the castle. With him.

She continued to sweep out what were once stalls for horses and other livestock. Now the area was used to hold new slaves captured from the neighboring towns Darnel's forces had overtaken.

Ben insisted she get every last one cleaned out and ready for the fresh batch of "guests" as he liked to call them. Just a play on words, far as she was concerned. They were slaves and nothing less. Poor souls snatched from their homes and dragged here to help Darnel build his mountain fortress that towered over the city called Racah.

A fresh breeze blasted in, ruffling her skirts and sending another freezing chill through her. A shadow fell across the newly swept floor.

"Hey, love."

She spun toward the voice. Tarek, the pesky huntsmen, stood in the doorway. Two pheasants hung by their legs from a strip of leather tied around his belt. Her eyes narrowed on him as she wondered if he'd been poaching again. She hadn't seen him around in the past few weeks. After their last row, she had begun to think he'd finally taken her advice to leave her alone.

Guess she was wrong.

He wore the brown trousers and gray shirt of the hunters' uniform. His unfathomable green eyes studied her as he took in the work she had done. Long, wheat-colored hair fell across his pinched brows and over the collar of his tunic. She absolutely hated how her heart always gave a bit of a lurch when she saw him. As if he should matter to her somehow. Especially when he called her by those infuriating pet names.

"Go away, hunter, I'm working."

Like her, he was a captured slave. Unlike her, he liked living in Racah compared to the poor town he came from. At least he knew, not only where he came from, but his name and that he was nineteen summers in age.

Somehow, all her memories of where she came from, of her home and family, and most annoying, her name, were completely gone. She guessed her own age to be around seventeen summers by reasoning that she came to Racah when she was but a very young girl. For ten years, she'd been called Princess, the only name she had to go by, even now. According to the marks she made on her cell wall, she'd been working in the dungeon for almost a year.