Author's Note: Okay, this book is FAR from finished. I actually finished writing about 90 percent of the book over two weeks ago...and then decided that I didn't like any of the characters (except for Keiran) and had to go back and change just about everything. For now, I will probably only post a chapter either a day, or every other day. We'll see. And just so you know...this prologue was actually based on real life. My mom's doctor told her that I was going to be a boy, and when I was born, he had to check--and recheck--to convince himself that I was a girl because he was SO convinced from my ultrasound that I was going to be a boy. Of course, I had three older brothers and ended up being a total tomboy anyway...but that's beside the point. Anyway, for the record, Book 5 is still--as the author--my favorite. But that doesn't mean I don't like this one, too. And there might be a seventh (short) story after this one, because there's one character who is going to be left without a satisfying ending.

Prologue

King Harolde of Dmondia had always wanted a son.

Brynna knew this, all of Meyjia knew this, because one of the biggest gossips in the country happened to be present at the birth of the King’s eldest daughter. A woman of rather loose morals, Layla Henrickson had been best of friends with the Queen. Amandria had insisted on having her nearby for the birth of what she expected to be the future heir to the kingdom of Meyjia.

Imagine her disappointment when the midwife announced that the squalling infant for whom she had ruined her figure was a little girl.

Nothing could compare to the King’s reaction, however. While the Queen sighed and rolled her eyes and muttered about having to go through it all over again, the King refused to believe the midwife’s declaration. In fact, he insisted on inspecting the child’s genitals himself. When no evidence of masculinity was found, he demanded to know if it was possible his son’s winky simply hadn’t grown in yet, for surely it was not a girl that he held in his arms!

A week later, the King was finally convinced that little Ariella was a girl.

A month later, when he went to his wife’s chambers to start the long and laborious process of siring his son all over again, he found her in bed with one of his footmen.

Two years later, when he realized that his wife was not going to allow him back into her bed, he broke down and slept with a fiery-haired temptress who was daughter to the shaman of The Wilds.

Two years after that, he had another daughter.

The King was not enthused. In fact, he did is best to ignore the fact that he had two daughters for the first few years or so of their lives. Little Ariella thrived with her tutors and lessons, docilely allowing herself to be molded into the perfect princess.

Brynna, conversely, refused to be ignored. If her father was in the Glass Palace—as he often was—she would find him. Every day she had some new talent to show him, no matter how inappropriate those talents might be. For a girl, anyway.

The thing was, Brynna knew that her father had wanted a boy. She’d heard all of the gossip, and she knew it must have been doubly disappointing for him to find out nearly a year after the death of his wife that even his attempts to sire a son out of wedlock had gone awry. So she had determined that she would be his son. Perhaps she lacked the necessary body parts—and was in possession of a few extra—to make her a man, but that did not mean she could not do everything a man could do.

Poor Harolde nearly suffered an apoplectic fit when his daughter decided to exhibit, at the tender age of six, her ability to curse as well as his guards. In front of his council of Officiates.

What disturbed him the most, however, for reasons Brynna could not have possibly fathomed at the time she made her decision, was when she cut her hair. After learning how to ride and shoot a bow and wield a short sword, her father still did his best to ignore her. So, when she was eight, Brynna cut her hair. All of it. Because of course her father could not think of her as the son he never had when she looked so much like a girl.

When she snuck into his room later that night as he prepared for bed, her father’s eyes had fallen upon his daughter with stark dismay. Brynna felt as though her heart were breaking at the sight of his tears as he took in the destruction she’d wrought on her thick, auburn locks.

“Oh, my dear girl,” he’d whispered. “What have you done?”

“I cut my hair. You don’t like it?” It was obvious, of course, that he did not like it, but Brynna had been so sure that her father would be elated to see that his youngest child could even look like the little boy he’d never had.

“You must never cut your hair again. I forbid it!” he’d ordered so loudly that one of his guards had peeked into the room to make sure that everything was all right. After assuring the guard that all was well, that he was simply talking to his daughter, Brynna had started to cry. “What is wrong, dearest?”

“You c-called me your daughter!” she’d wailed.

It was the first time in the six years since she’d arrived at the palace that her father had referred to her as his. It didn’t matter that she was his daughter, just that she was his.

Brynna discovered that evening that her father had never intended to ignore her, it was just that she looked so much like her mother, and though he had not known her long enough to love her, Harolde had always felt that Lilacia might have been his soulmate. Every time he looked at the child they’d created, his heart ached with the loss of what might have been. Even still, he could not help but admire Brynna from afar, and as the years passed, she became more and more like her mother, especially in the way her hair had grown in so thick and wild.

That was why he was upset by the fact that she’d cut her hair. It reminded him so much of Lilacia, and he knew that his daughter’s fierce mother would never have condoned her shearing her locks for anyone’s sake but her own. That was the first lesson King Harolde ever taught his daughter: never compromise who you are for anyone else.

Of course, if he had known then just how seriously Brynna would take that dictate, and just what it might mean for the future of his country, he would have certainly reconsidered offering her that advice.

After that night, Harolde started paying more attention to his youngest daughter. In her, he discovered unconditional love and the delight of fatherhood. Although she persisted in her boyish pursuits, Harolde took pride in his youngest’s accomplishments and delighted in her devotion to him.

Her pain became his pain. When she was thrown from her saddle at the age of twelve and was knocked senseless for three straight days, Harolde did not leave his daughter’s bedside until she had recovered. When she became inexplicably ill at sixteen, he sold his soul to the very devil to find a cure. At eighteen, they argued—briefly, but viciously—and she ran away to try and meet with her aunt, her mother’s twin sister, who was living in Laporia. Harolde had issued a hundred thousand-dmon reward for her safe return.

Then, after causing him such distress, his daughter had dared to show up at the Glass Palace, the entire Wolfe family in tow, demanding that he let a butler/ship captain/bastard son of a Duke marry a fisherman’s daughter/Duchess of Methyisa. As if she had any right to make demands when she had taken nearly ten years off of his life.

Unfortunately, the little vixen knew how much control she had over her father. Not only did he agree to the blasted marriage, but he allowed his daughter to return home with the Duke of Laporia. The Glass Palace had felt so empty, so lifeless without her.

Months later, she returned. His world stopped feeling stilted and muted with only his eldest daughter’s vapid disinterest to keep him company.

Long ago Harolde had discovered that Arellia was a great deal like her mother—immoral and unkind. Unfortunately, because she was his firstborn, he could not, in good conscience, name Brynna as his successor. Even though his dearest daughter had devoted her life to learning Meyjian law and how to defend her country, he could never make her Queen unless she were willing to take a King to rule beside her. Brynna had told him on numerous occasions that, if she were to ever rule Meyjia, she would do so as Queen and would only accept a consort. If she were to let a man rule over her, after all, she would be compromising who she truly was: a powerful woman with a mind of her own. And hadn’t he taught her never to compromise?

Sadly, the people of his country would never accept a woman as their sole ruler. Harolde might know that Brynna was amply qualified, but her sex alone would be a deterrent, and with the unrest in Noxyn, Meyjia would fall into a decline the likes of which it had never known. The only way to keep the situation from further escalating would be to marry one of his daughters to a man with an adequate reputation and rear that man to be the next King.

Brynna absolutely refused that option, and Arellia was resistant to the notion of marriage entirely. With the rebels plotting to kidnap his eldest to force her into marriage, Harolde had to make a decision. Whether they liked it or not, one of his daughters was going to get married, and her husband would be named Harolde’s successor.

Unfortunately, Fate had a different plan.

One morning, he woke up and Arellia was gone. Kidnapped, apparently, by the very rebels he’d been warned to protect her from.

Little more than a week later, before he could even advise her that she would be marrying a man of his choice whether she liked it or not, Brynna had disappeared, too.

Meyjia was entirely without a successor.

His country was doomed.