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Mistaken
Mistaken
Mistaken
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Mistaken

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Over nine years ago, Princess Dulciana came to terms with losing her beloved husband, Prince Concordance. Faced with a necessity to keep her and her daughters identity hidden, she takes on a new identity and settles into the meager daily tasks of a farm maid/slave. With the death of their protector, the women are sold into slavery by his callous son, Michael. Their lives are thrown into a tailspin that forever changes them as the events of the past come back to transform the womens resolve and their future.

The well-known tyrant, Zenith, purchases the women for a kings ransom; he is not whom he seems to be, as is many of the things Dulciana and her daughter have come to believe. Zenith and his men are frantically endeavoring to pull the women out of the desert country and back into civilization, where they are free from the lies of the past. An attempt that is proving exhilarating with long hot days in the desert and its freak sandstorms blocking their way back. Michaels actions add aggravation to Zeniths plight of returning the women home and to a future befitting royalty. The first Chronicles of M.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 5, 2014
ISBN9781490725758
Mistaken
Author

Skylar Ravenwood

Skylar Ravenwood is an endless romantic who enjoys fantasizing about far-away places with Knights on their faithful steeds coming to rescue the poor damsels in distress. Living in the lower New Mexico desert with her own Knight, her husband and their ever-growing brood of cats, she enjoys spending time reading, writing, and dreaming up elaborate stories to depict her fantastical fantasies.

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    Mistaken - Skylar Ravenwood

    © Copyright 2014 Skylar Ravenwood.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

    ISBN: 978-1-4907-2574-1 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4907-2576-5 (hc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4907-2575-8 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2014901617

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

    and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Trafford rev. 01/31/2014

    33164.png    www.trafford.com

    North America & international

    toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

    fax: 812 355 4082

    Contents

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    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Epilogue

    Character Profiles

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    To those who have provided me with support and given me insightful ideas into my character profiles. It has been a long enough road to get here.

    Thanks for sticking through it with me.

    39245.png

    Chapter 1

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    R emove your burqa and your tunic I want to see what I have purchased. The man’s deep voice dem anded.

    I’m sorry I cannot, the woman responded lowering her head in fear, she was peering out from under the fabric covering her head attempting to gauge the man in front of her.

    He snarled. I am your new master I want to see what I have purchased.

    She jumped at the intensity of his voice and quivered as she beseeched, I must not, I cannot… she took in a sharp breath stopping her plea. She raised her head in defiance, in attempts to quash the fear surging through her body her attempts were with no avail, her body shook uncontrollably despite her determination.

    I SAID NOW! His voice bellowed through the tent causing her and the men around him to jump from its assertiveness.

    The woman flinched with fear; nonetheless, she lifted her head higher in courage. I cannot do as you request, I was told that if I ever removed these items I would bring a curse down upon my daughter and myself. She stated firmly, not showing the anxiety attacking her system with fire.

    The man chuckled at her boldness; surging forward he rocked his body upwards and growled. Such audacity for a slave! As you well know, I AM your new master! You will do as I say or pay the consequences. The choice is yours?

    His face was hard, not showing his inner turmoil. He grunted in frustration at the lack of her response then roared. WELL what is your choice Slave?

    The room broke out into a soft buzz. How dare she question her new master! One man whispered angrily, while the others agreed in murmurs.

    The woman’s hands trembled uncontrollably as she slowly raised them to the fabric which covered her identity.

    Her voice shuttered as she whispered, I… I am sorry my master. I have not removed these items in public for over nine years. I am afraid of what might happen to me when I do. Her body trembled with fear. She sighed attempting to calm her trepidation.

    She could never tell anyone the truth, to do so would endanger her life and the life of her daughter. She would take no chances with her daughter’s life. Her daughter was all she had left . . . since that day . . . the day her beloved husband was killed . . .

    Frowning inwardly as the pain of Cody’s lost reverberated through her searing her nerve endings.

    She squeezed her eyes shut to stop her thoughts. Lowering her head in defeat she conceded, she knew this man would not take no for an answer. She only hoped that Kendrick’s words would ring true, that this man would be disgusted by her looks and turn away, never asking to see her body again. If only! She groaned.

    Angrily the man stalked towards her. What do you want? Do you not trust ME! YOUR new master? Am I to be ignored! his voice thundering with fury.

    The woman jumped at his advancement, she tightened her lips together then whispered out a response in a shaky voice. No… no it’s not that. She paused, gathering her thoughts trying to minimize her exposure to the men in the tent. She raised her head to stare at the man standing feet from her, lifting her head until it was eye level with him.

    He was a tall man, towering over her by almost six inches. She had to lean her head back onto her shoulders to view his face. Staring at him for a moment, she hardened her resolve but her voice shuttered in fear. When… When I was sold into slavery nine years ago I was told never to remove these items when I am in public, if I did my daughter would pay for it with her life.

    He guffawed, swishing his hand palms up around the room, looking at every man there. That is Rubbish, I have paid handsomely for you woman. I want to see what belongs to me. Disrobe! Do it this instant or would you like my men to do so.

    Several men chuckled, the woman flinched, pulling her hands up and gripping her shoulders in horror.

    He stalked closer, noticing a soft tremor shake through her body. Damn it! He cursed himself inwardly, he hadn’t meant to cause her fretfulness. He frowned as he watched her body twitch with fear. He hardened his face to hide his emotions; stopping inches away from her he lifted his hands to his hips in an act of frustration as she shrank back against the tent fabric.

    The woman stood hugging herself shaking her head indicating she did not want to be touched. Yet she stood firm not removing her protective items.

    The man grunted again.

    Others in the tent started murmuring their rumbles of disapproval to her defiance. Several men hissed infuriated by her impudence. A soft buzzing of men’s voices started its way around the tent. Each man curious to what made this woman so valuable to their master that he would pay a year’s wages for her and her daughter. The men started whispering their opinions.

    Maybe she is a prized whore one man whispered.

    No! Maybe she is a goddess in human form, whispered another.

    More men started to offer their opinions; their whispers increased in volume echoing around the tent sounding like a horde of bees buzzing wildly in their ears.

    An older man near the door cleared his throat and the men shushed their whispers.

    The leader grunted as he looked around the room seething with anger, he paused as he made eye contact with each of them. The men standing along the walls shrank back and kept quiet.

    NOW, he boomed. The woman jumped shriveling back in fear from his outburst.

    She cleared the anxiety from her throat and looked around the room at the men, there were too many of them not to figure out who she was, she needed to clear the room. Stuttering out her response.

    I… I will, if you have everyone leave the room. I am ashamed of how I look, please make them leave. She raised her head to meet his gaze and whispered Please? then lowered her head despairingly.

    Knowing what he knew about this woman and how determined she was to hide her identity. He knew this would happen, Had hoped it would. He smiled inwardly and sighed. Thank God, she asked for privacy he did not want anyone to see what he was going to see in a moment, he was very sure she did not either.

    A soft smile formed on his lips as he looked down on the woman in front of him.

    He exhaled a harsh breath as if mad then turned to the men standing in the tent surrounding him. He snorted and instructed them to leave. Many of the men tried to argue with him, his temperament would not allow it; they humbly lowered their heads and slowly started filing out of the tent.

    Inhaling deeply, his lips curved slightly as he looked up at the two men still in the tent, they were standing by the flap. Both of the men had placid looks on their faces. He raised his eyebrows at them and could see just a hint of happiness form along their lips. Making an angry grunt, he approached the men leaning in to whisper something to each of them. They spoke for several seconds. Both men looked up at the woman then nodded to Zenith and left.

    One of the men was a young man with dark brown hair and the other was an older man with a long white beard. They almost looked happy to leave him alone with her.

    Was that her imagination?

    Still unsure of what this man’s intentions were, the woman shivered with the possibilities of the unknown. She watched the men exit the tent closing the flap behind them. She could see their shadows lining the doorframe as if they were Royal Guards guarding the tent. She chuckled, Royal Guards. Where did that come from?

    Zenith hardened his resolve turning back to face her, he affirmed his request of her to remove the items.

    Sighing heavily in defeat, the woman turned her back to him and slowly raised the tunic upwards. As she raised the fabric up her back, an image of a bright blue dragon appeared across her ivory white skin. The dragon had a tail that looped around her waist to the right, hugging her hips, and heading to her belly. She raised the tunic up over her head, removing it completely before slowly allowing it to fall to the ground as she let out a heavy sigh of defeat.

    The woman’s tattoo took up most of her back. The colors on the dragon tattoo were exquisite. Each scale had been painstakingly outlined in a deep black onyx ink that shimmered as she shifted positions. The dragon’s image had a bright red eye with a piercing fiery orange pupil, looking back at the man with forewarning. The intensity in the dragon’s stare gave the man chills. The look in the dragon’s eyes was one of aggression and warning, as if voicing the danger that lurked to those who touched this woman’s body.

    Zenith winced as a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

    Drawing a deep breath he requested, Now remove your burqa, and turn around to face me!

    His voice not as harsh as before but hard enough to send a chill through her body.

    The woman shook in nervousness. But I… I… cannot She whined, knowing she needed to keep her identity hidden, her voice trailed off into a soft hiss.

    Sighing Zenith growled abhorrently. NOW!

    He watched her take in a heavy breath releasing it in a long huff along with her determination. She dropped her head in anguish and started dejectedly removing the burqa’s fabric allowing it to fall open. The mesh screen was removed by loosening the button on the inside of the fabric folds. She sighed as she let it fall to the ground.

    Standing with her shoulders hunched over she breathed in deeply once again before reaching up and loosing the string that held her hair close to her body, shaking her long auburn brown hair out allowing it to drape down around her back. She shifted her shoulders in attempts to hide some of her tattoo.

    Her hair held a soft wave from being held in position for a long period, she shifted her shoulders again allowing her hair to swish down to the center of her back. It rested just inches above the slight indentions at the bottom of her spine and the clothes that hid her modesty. One soft curl curled around looping tight against her skin directly in the center of her pelvic bone.

    Inhaling Zenith whispered softly trying not to scare her; he could feel the anxiety thick in the air. Now turn around.

    He could see, a soft tremor of fear run across the woman’s body, watching her carefully he saw her huffed breath as she lowered her hands dejectedly giving up her fight.

    Ever so slowly, she turned to face the man this man who had purchased her off the black market earlier that day. She lowered her head to hide her identity for as long as possible.

    Look up at me! He asked softly in an attempt to calm her.

    The woman gradually raised her head waiting to see a recollection on his face to who she was, never seeing it she inwardly smiled.

    As she looked up her deep green eyes pierced him to his spot. Her eyes held both anger and hope. Her beauty took him aback, but of course, Zenith recognized her immediately.

    Lowering his eyes to her tattoo, he studied the dragon’s tail that made its way up to her belly and looped around her left breast, curling around it carefully as if holding her breast in thin air. He remarked mentally, Absolutely beautiful!

    Hardening his face to strengthen his resolve he lifted his eyes to meet hers, staring at her for a moment before lowering his eyebrows in an angery manner.

    He frowned stating sedately, I see why you were told to cover your whole body, now get dressed again. Inhaling sharply as if dissatisfied with her appearance, he sighed then abruptly turned around and marched to the tent entrance.

    Shocked by his statement yet relieved that her embarrassment was over she felt a tear run down her face, reaching up she wiped it away as she watched the man’s movement from the corner of her eye. The woman was shocked at his lack of attention to her.

    After all, she was still a very beautiful woman, or at least she thought she was.

    Groaning silently, she lowered her eyes looking down at the pile of clothing gathered at her feet. Shyly she grabbed her items and quickly got dressed, ashamed of her appearance and afraid of what might happen next. She mumbled softly as she reattached her mesh screen to her burqa and straightened her clothing.

    The man paused for a moment by the entrance gathering his thoughts before calling the woman’s daughter into the tent.

    A young petite woman of no more than nineteen appeared slowly inside the tent door accompanied by the two sentries from before. The girl looked around to find her mother then rushed over and hugged her tightly, holding on for dear life.

    Zenith could see a hesitant stance of the younger man standing beside him. He could see the tension building up in the young man’s body. Turning to look at the young man, he watched the emotions wash across his face; Remy frowned, lowering his eyes despondently. Zenith shot him a knowing look then grunted and nodded towards the door.

    Remy felt his rebuke, dropping his head in respect, nodding in agreement. The sentries left the tent without a word.

    Zenith took in a soft breath then hardened his face turning to the women.

    Make sure neither of you uncover your bodies for any reason until we reach my homeland. I will not have my men seeing the disgraceful things that have been done to your bodies. He frowned secretly then turned leaving the tent.

    Samara nodded in fear and gripped her daughter tightly, lowering her head. She pulled her daughter into the shadows and rested against the tent side.

    Simony released her mesh screen to pear into the eyes of her mother.

    Samara frowned and hugged her tightly, the women sat with their backs to the tent side facing forward watching the entrance in expectancy as they whispered softly to each other.

    Zenith walked past the sentries at the entrance into the hot open desert in front of him, inhaling sharply he allowed a smile to form on his lips, looking upwards at the cloudless sky heaving a sigh of relief.

    We have finally found them Sire! Smiling to himself, he remembered his mission.

    Z, I entrust you to find my family. I received news that they are alive and well in Mercia. It has been way too long without them at home hurry, the man said with a stern sad look.

    Yes Sire, I will. Zenith responded lowering his

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