Rachel James and her new book
The Forgotten Princess of Elmetia
About the Book (Inspirational Medieval Romance)
It is 616AD, and
one fatal night the ancient Kingdom of Elmetia falls. Saxons kill the Elmetian
King, and capture Princess Teagen. Teagen poses as a slave girl and works for
the Saxons in the Kingdom
of Deira, until she
discovers her brother is alive. She finds a way to escape, and her path crosses
with Ryce the Warrior.
Struggling with
his past, and angry against the tyrant Saxon king, Ryce helps the princess in
pursuit of her brother. But just as the connection between them intensifies,
obstacles get in their way. The Saxon king now wants vengeance, and will stop
at nothing to get it.
E-book $3.99
Here's an Excerpt
616 AD, The
Kingdom of Elmetia
Teagen scrambled
under the table as the first fire-drenched arrow shot through the sky. Within
seconds, thatched rooftops blazed and smoke bellowed throughout the palace.
Frantic screams replaced the joyful music playing moments before.
“Princess,” Teagen’s nurse
hissed from behind a wooden bench. “Are ye injured?”
“Nay.” She cast a wary
glance as the battle unfolded before her. “What’s happening? Is it Saxons?”
Her nurse stretched her
arm over and stroked her hair. “Aye, princess. Seems to be. Now stay put here
while I find yer brother.”
Teagen flinched. “Don’t
leave me Dera, please—Niall will be with Papa, they’ll be safe.”
Dera’s face paled. “I hope
not, lassie, for yer brother’s sake, I pray he’s not.”
What could she mean? Was
Papa in trouble?
She jumped out from her
hiding place. “Then I’ll come with ye—”
Dera pushed her down
firmly. “Nay, ‘tis not safe. Whatever ye do, do not let them capture ye,
understand?”
She nodded, dumbfounded as
Dera disappeared.
Grabbing the bottom of her
long silk dress, she covered her face in an attempt to subdue the nausea that
welled within. She wouldn’t look. She couldn’t. Where was Papa? She needed him right now, to hold her,
and keep her safe.
“Teagen.”
A wave of relief washed
over her. “Papa!” Teagen ran toward him, tears threatening her eyes.
“Shhh, lassie.” Her father
scooped her up and headed for the kitchen just off the Great Hall. He opened a
small stone cupboard and placed her inside.
“Stay in here, do ye
understand? Do not come out until yer brother gets ye.”
“Please don’t leave me,
Papa. Everyone keeps leaving me.” She tasted the salty tears that streamed her
face.
Her father stroked her
cheek. “Oh, lassie, I love ye so much. Ye know this, don’t ye?”
She nodded.
“Now be a brave girl and
stay put.”
She gave her father a
lingering hug and breathed in his comforting musky scent, her eyes averting his
blood stained tunic. As he shut the cupboard door, the sound of the latch
closing sent shivers through her body. The darkness did not mask the coldness
of the damp stone walls, or the stale air which stifled her breathing. A sob
lodged in her throat. I need to
be brave for Papa.
Muffled sounds from
outside grew louder—the clash of iron on iron, the collapse of buildings, and
cries for help.
“King Ceretic is dead!”
Teagen stopped breathing. It could not be true.
“And what of the rest of
the family?”
“Not yet found.”
“We do not leave until
they are dead. Burn everything, and gather the survivors—we’ll take them to the
slave market.”
She squeezed her eyes
together, shutting out the fuzzy sensation that threatened to overtake
her.Please, God. Nay. There surely must be some mistake.
Teagen could wait no
longer. Despite her father’s strict instructions, she pushed open the door and
fell on the kitchen floor. She gasped in a huge breath of air and scrambled to
the doorway. Soldiers littered the outside, and in the centre, stood the Saxon
King—Edwin the Tyrant. Her stomach lurched as she saw the remains of her
father’s body.
Oh, Heavenly Father.
She collapsed to the
ground. If her father was dead, it meant her brother Niall would likely be too.
She studied the hem of her fine tunic and caressed the intricate beading Dera
had sewn on the day before.
She stiffened. If they
discovered her true identity as the king’s daughter, she too would be slain.
She had to get out of these clothes. Her eyes rested on the dead bodies piled
up outside the kitchen entrance and her heart broke as she spotted one of her
friends lying on the ground. She kept low, reached out and pulled her friend
further inside the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Hilda,” she
whispered to the girl, “but I’m going to need yer clothes. Ye won’t have use
for them anymore.” She closed the girl’s eyelids, said a quick prayer, and
removed the simple tunic and redressed her young friend in her own grand
attire.
She ran out of the kitchen
and toward the oak tree at the top of the hill, knowing she would be seen. She
perched under a sloping branch and gazed out—her entire world ablaze. Soldiers
rummaged through the dead bodies looking for valuables to keep for themselves.
Teagen covered her ears as cries penetrated the night. Curling herself into a
ball, she cradled her arms around her knees and rocked herself back and forth
watching her kingdom fall. They were coming for her, it was simply a matter of
time. To survive this night, her identity would have to be forgotten.
About
the Author
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Rachel James grew fascinated with the medieval time period as a
child. Dubbed a bookworm from a young age, Rachel found herself surrounded by
places steeped in history and adventure. She enjoyed trips with her family to
visit nearby derelict castles and Roman ruins, and that coupled with a zealous
imagination and love for stories, sparked her interest in knights, fortresses
and ancient kingdoms.
Born and bred in England, Rachel writes adventure driven
historical romance, she is also a pastor’s wife, and has three beautiful little
princesses. She minored in creative writing at university and strives to
entertain, inspire and encourage others in their own spiritual journey. She’s
also captivated by romantic tales… combine it with a little history and a hot
cup of tea, and she’s smitten! Find her at www.rachelajames.com
for more information.
Connect with Rachel:
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