Jenna discerned that it was not her father who held her--such a thing was impossible, her father had departed this life two years ago. Who gave her such a loving embrace? Wiping her tears away with a determined fierceness, Jenna pushed herself away from the man who had held her for over five minutes. She looked up into the inquiring eyes, burning down on her.

"Oh!" she cried, after a deep indrawn breath. "Your Majesty! I... did not know... it was you." Other words did not come, she was speechless. Embarrassment flooded her and she remembered that she should curtsy. Bowing her head, she sank into a low curtsy.

"You thought I was someone else?" he asked, his deep voice issuing a sarcastic tone to cover the pain he felt at her reaction, "You thought I was Kind Heart?"

Pulling herself to her full height, Jenna looked up into his face, saying, "As a matter of fact, Your Majesty, I did think you were Kind Heart... your leather vest is the same... as his... as his... was..."

"Where is he then?" he interrupted, demanding, "Why is he not here to comfort you?"

Edited by: Leslie Hodges

Copy Edited by: Elizabeth Struble

Senior Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Chrissie Poe

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

http://www.wings-press.com

Copyright © 2003 by Carolyn Ann Aish

ISBN 1-59088-206-7

Published In the United States Of America

September 2003

To those fans who have grown from childhood into adults.

May you all enjoy KIND HEART as much,

or more, and read it as many times...

Shrouded in mist, the Royal Palace seemed far away, as if it were encircled with disintegrating threads of giant cobweb. Yellow candle flames bravely struggled to bring substitute sunlight inside the arched windows.

Orange flares spaced evenly along the wide, spike-topped wall intensified deep shadows of the night. Guards beneath flares seemed as lifeless as the wall itself, not even as animated as the flickering flames.

Closer and closer came the sound of hoofbeats, slowing to a trot, now walking. Closer. The horses halted a distance from the gates. Guards nearest the back gate of the Royal Palace heard two horses breathing heavily. One horse stamped impatiently then snorted. No one moved. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening--yet.

A youth released a small boy from the saddle front, gently lowering him to stand on his boot-clad feet on the frosty cobblestones. The boy walked boldly to a guard who stood to attention at the gate.

"Open the gate. Take me to King Cyranius!" Prince Edward’s boyish voice trembled with uncertainty as he voiced these commands. His shrill tone disappeared quickly into the yawning midnight.

The two closest guards did not move nor did they look down at the child. However, several pairs of eyes traveled now, in interest, to the large black stallion from which the boy had dismounted, then across to the other magnificent animal upon which sat a well-dressed nobleman, wearing a feather-plumed gentleman’s hat.

"Please. I’ve been rescued..." Prince Edward stepped closer, looking up at the guard. Backing away, he sidestepped across to the other, peering up at the clay-like face. His tired eyes lit with recognition and he stepped closer, saying, eagerly, "Take me to King Cyranius. My brother." Prince Edward looked back at his rescuers. He called, "Captain Frayne will not look at me..." his voice was questioning--what should he do next?

Captain Frayne started at the sound of his name. He stared down at the boy, wondering if such a thing were possible. The child wore the prince’s clothes and he looked like Prince Edward-- travel-stained, dirty-faced, his hair tousled--was this possible?

"You... are... Prince Edward?" the other guard asked, his voice disbelieving, his eyes also confirming the answer as they took in the boy’s resemblance to the prince. Calls came from other guards, "The prince? Is it the prince?"

The captain stepped toward the horses, shouting, "You two, identify yourselves!"

"Show them your ring, Boy!" the larger rider called. With a swift pull of the reins, he turned his horse, making it rise to pivot on strong back legs. The other horse did not turn. The young rider sought assurance that the boy would be accepted for whom he really was.

"He is Prince Edward. Take him to the king!" the younger rider called and copying the other, urged the horse around as guards hurried from their posts.

"Halt! I command! Halt! In the name of King Cyranius, halt!" Captain Frayne shouted as he ran towards the disappearing horses. Darkness swallowed both animals and riders and the hoofbeats diminished into the night, fading quickly as they left the city perimeter.

"Who are they?" a guard spoke to his comrades, not expecting anyone to answer.

The young voice of the prince sounded out again, "That was Kind Heart and his son... it was Kind Heart’s son who rescued me from those evil men."

An argument raged in the throne room. Three barons disputed loudly among themselves. Consumed in their heated debate, they forgot where they were.

King Cyranius raised his dark eyebrows very slightly, his eyes locking with those of his Royal Adjudicator. With a prompt that was imperceptible to most, the Adjudicator signaled the Royal Orders Controller who nodded at the herald to strike the large brass gong with the huge clanger held at the ready.

"B-O-N-G-G-G-G-G-g-g-g-g-g-g -g -g-g--"

The sound reverberated ominously around the throne room causing the three barons to fall to their knees before the king.

"Yes! His Majesty should have your heads! You dare to argue in front of your king? You dishonor the throne. It’s a capital offence!" the Royal Orders Controller denounced when the echoes had faded. He himself knelt with his face turned toward the throne.

The three men bowed their faces to the cold floor, as was expected. King Cyranius had the right to end their lives for this transgression, known as ‘Contempt of the Throne.’ The deep silence caused dread to rise, choking the minds of the guilty trio.

Young Prince Edward, seated on a footstool to the left of his brother’s throne, smirked broadly at the three grown men who groveled on the floor. He was here to learn and had certainly seen his brother’s eyebrows twitch and the chain-response of the king’s officials.

"Rise all," King Cyranius commanded. The men stood, waiting, their heads bowed.

"You’ve come to us complaining about this lady, Jennifer Gifford, whom almost a year ago, we believe, and justly, we repeat, justly, inherited her father’s extensive lands. As the lady is sole heiress, she may run the estates as she wishes so long as the taxes are paid and she does not break our laws. There’s been no breach of law from the Gifford domain for decades.

"You’re all suffering from a chronic case of covetousness, or simply greed." The king waited until all three barons looked up at him.

"Yes, greed," he said severely before surrendering to his personal presuppositions. "However, we cannot but fail to agree that a woman, in sole charge of the largest domain in Cyran, is a recipe containing the rudimentary ingredient for disorder and disaster." The king paused, his eyes roving across the three.

Baron Sidney was the most handsome baron, impeccably dressed in the latest fashion and well manicured. Perhaps a little short of stature for a baron, but nevertheless very much a nobleman, the king mused.

Baron Zerka is the tallest but he’s not been furnished with many facial rewards. He certainly does not decorate what he has to the best advantage, the king thought. Zerka’s dark brown, ill-trimmed hair was plastered to his small head. A thin moustache was longer on one side than the other. He wore a very heavy earring in one ear, causing the lobe to hang down, giving him an overall lopsided appearance. One eye had a squint, making it smaller than the other, but the king was not so unkindly as to criticize nature’s misfortunes.

Some things cannot be remedied, he reminded himself.

Baron Ferrah was the oldest baron of the three. Short, stocky and fat, he obviously enjoyed both eating and drinking to the bursting point--his clothes were so full that the seams suffered nervous breakdowns all over his irregular form.

The king turned to the prince. "Prince Edward. We invite you, on our behalf, to offer advice to our kingdom’s three most ambitious barons." The king spoke his brother’s name with love, but the rest of the sentence was well groomed with cynicism toward the three.

The prince stood and the barons, as one, bowed to him. They waited, red-faced, wondering that the king would ask a nine-year-old boy to give advice on an adult matter.

In the stillness of the great chamber, Prince Edward’s youthful voice sounded out, clear and precise, "Greed, like hunger, can be satisfied if the supply is constant." The prince then asked, "Is any of Your Graces unmarried?" His question surprised everyone, including King Cyranius. The King frowned at the men, awaiting their answers. The expression on His Majesty’s face warned the men that this child’s question was his own.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Baron Zerka replied, "I’m unmarried."

"No, Your Majesty," Baron Sidney replied.

"No, Your Majesty," Baron Ferrah said, bowing again.

Red-faced, the barons felt like children in the nursery standing before a juvenile nanny.

All eyes were upon the prince, who enlightened everyone by proclaiming, "Baron Zerka, who must be well old enough to have a wife, shall gain the Lady Jennifer’s hand in marriage. Then all three will have equal shares in her land. However, the land shall be divided into four. As each of you has a castle, Lady Jennifer’s castle and the corner of land adjoining the king’s land shall belong to the king. We need a castle south of the mountains from which to maintain law and order in the southern domains. When Lady Jennifer and Baron Zerka are married, the remaining land shall be divided into four."

No one dared laugh, least of all the king.

Very seriously, the older brother asked, "Tell us, Prince Edward, why should Baron Sidney and Baron Ferrah, each with a wife and both with satisfactory estates, share in Lady Jennifer’s land?"

Prince Edward almost shrugged, but remembered in time that his brother had censored him twice before for making what the king labeled, ‘that peasant-like gesture.’

"Baron Zerka won’t need the whole estate, one quarter should be enough, and all three barons should be rewarded for bringing their contest to the right place--to the throne. How much better than taking matters into one’s own hands and causing war, domain against domain with unnecessary bloodshed." he raised his eyebrows, copying his brother’s mannerism, and waited.

King Cyranius began his conclusion for this case, making his brother’s words his own, "To delay, and hopefully preclude, the previous-mentioned disorder and disaster, our Royal Command is that Baron Zerka be united in wedlock with Lady Jennifer. When the marriage certificate is in hand, her estates will be divided into four," he paused, allowing the scribe time to record his words. "Gifford Castle and its surrounding estate will belong to Prince Edward."

The king spoke to the barons, saying, "Perhaps the gaining of one quarter of the Gifford Domain will give you good reason to work together for the furtherance and continuance of peace in our kingdom. Your lands will all join each other rather than bordering the said lady’s.

"You will report progress to us in this matter, Baron Zerka. Your king and Prince Edward shall be invited to your wedding and to view the prince’s castle at the same time. You’re dismissed." He performed a theatrical wave using the back of his hand. The gong sounded, declaring that the adjudication session was over for the day.

Bowing to almost touch the white marble floor, the barons left the throne room. All three smirked broadly and their minds seethed with schemes for the future--what they would do with so much more land. Then, frowning, Baron Zerka wondered how he would manage seeking Lady Jennifer’s hand. Every time he had approached the said lady, he had felt like a field mouse challenging a lioness in protection of her cubs and den. He shuddered, then, recalling her youth and beauty of face, he smirked again.

As soon as the doors closed, the prince stepped close to the throne. "I’m looking forward to meeting that lady, Cy. She must be an ogre. You should have seen Zerka’s face. He didn’t look like he wanted marriage. Only the land."

King Cyranius had seen Zerka’s face. It had fallen, at least one side had, when he heard Prince Edward’s advice. But then the king had perceived what his brother had missed. It was the gleam in Zerka’s eyes when he heard the words, "Royal Command." King Cyranius was sure Zerka would use these words in requesting Lady Jennifer’s hand in marriage. The king knew Zerka would use the Royal Command to his own advantage. Royal Commands were not to be ignored! The king’s words would be Zerka’s weapons--his sword, his mace, and also his shield.

"How old is the lady?" Edward asked.

"I’ve no idea," King Cyranius said, wondering himself.

"She must be an ogre," the prince repeated.

"Very likely," the king agreed, remembering their mother. "A woman standing in a place of leadership is most dangerous..."

The prince sighed. He wished he had seen and known their mother. He had heard from rumors and gossip that she was ‘an awesome creature.’ But every painting of her had been destroyed when Cyranius V came to the throne. Like his brother, Edward’s views of the ‘fairer sex,’ were tainted by true reports of their mother’s domineering administration of cold-blooded cruelty.

He sighed again and said, "Thank you for the castle, Cy."

"Edward, if you are to learn from today there are two things: one is the meaning of not counting your chickens before they hatch. Can you explain the analogy?"

Prince Edward’s face wrinkled a little, showing he was deep in thought. Then he replied, "The castle is the chickens and the barons are the eggs..." To the prince’s disconcert his brother laughed loudly, joined by all in the great chamber. When the laughter subsided, Prince Edward’s scowl softened as he tried to redeem himself by adding, "If Lady Jennifer won’t marry Ba