Hey everyone, before you start reading this if you haven't completed book one, Calm Before The Storm you should. Crimes Against The Crown is a trilogy and this is book 2. I know not all of book one is available on wattpad but I have had a lot of readers who have gotten the entire book through ebook providers who have asked about book two. In preperation for the release of Eye Of The Storm I have promised to post the intro for Eye Of The Storm.

Enjoy.

Love
NJ Kuhr
XOXO

PS. Due to someone hacking my computer and losing everything the release of book 2 has been postponed. As an apology, I've posted a short sample for those who are forced to wait. It's not enough but hopefully it will ease the suffering. Enjoy.

Note: This is not my picture. I don't know who's picture it is but I love it. It is not the official cover for Eye OF The Storm but we are working on getting something similar.

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Eye Of The Storm

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The sailor knew my face.

How could he not? After all, sailors love a good story, especially one of their own. They're known for their songs and love nothing more than a good tale. Mine is most definitely a good tale, if not a strange one. They've shared my story, telling it again and again over drinks in a pub or during long nights away from home.

Animlyre, they called me.

It is what they whisper in the streets when they think I can't hear them. It is harder to ignore than those who skitter out of my shadow or throw up hand gestures to ward off spirits least I invoke bad luck upon them for crossing my path. I understand the lore though it's not accurate. Not in the least. Sailors are a superstitious lot and believe many odd things. Given my history, Animlyre would be an easy connection to make.

Animlyre is born to the sea. Not someone born to a woman and raised near the shore; dependent on the sea, to live their lives based on her whims though I am that as well. Animlyre is birthed by Her, by the spirit of the ocean. A child of our Lady herself, one of her own.

Even nonbelievers call the ocean by name. They call her she even if they don't realize what that entails or that they are even doing so. Believers refer to her as a woman, a goddess or spirit, with renown and even fear. As if the Sea has a consciousness, a self-awareness, intentions, and feelings.

She is fickle and cruel.

I have earned the right to say so. I've been cast into her dark anger and nearly died by her hand. If I say she is cruel it is because I have felt her presence as her waves tumbled over me and in a fit of rage, she nearly tore me asunder. When her temper ceased, she was no less forgiving. Her fury was not one of heat and fire but of ice and wind. One that when it was over, I was both freezing and burning. The sea kept my temperature at dangerously low levels while the sun scorched my face and arms.

To be lost at sea is a horrible way to die. It is a slow death of contradictions that will destroy every ounce of will to live. Laid bare without shelter the ever-present sun cast her gaze upon my skin unyielding and unrelenting. There was nowhere else to hide from that bright blaze but under her surface where I would surely freeze.

Water was a blessing and a curse. She left me near to drowning and yet I was dehydrated to the point of death. I've heard people complain of thirst when I know in my heart they haven't begun to know the meaning of the word. I was floating in immeasurable quantities of water for days, mayhap longer, and knew what real thirst was. My throat so dry I tasted blood and couldn't swallow. And even though it hurt and tore I kept trying in an attempt to moisten my throat.

To drink the water of the Lady would bring death closer. Fevered, sick, and dying I had enough constitution to remember that saltwater was a killer. As dry as my lips were, I would not let myself drink as I floated. It would have been easy, parched as I was, I wouldn't have needed to exert any effort, simply relax my jaw and let my mouth open. But no, I needed to live. I couldn't recall why but there was a desperate desire to live and not for myself. There was a terrible, terrible wrong I had to set right. I locked my jaw and held tight to my own wrist as I clung to the only piece of salvation the Lady would give; a lone piece of driftwood.

They say I am her daughter. The whisperers claim the Lady Ocean carried me in her womb and delivered me in the waves. I can understand why they think so though I try not to be bitter when I catch them at it. That is where they saved me after all.

I was found by a Royal ship out for one last fishing expedition, to report on the borders and ice formations. The straights freeze over in winter but a few brave souls will tempt the storms. They came across my form floating leagues away from shore among debris unconsciousness, near starved to death, dehydrated, and half drowned.

The sailors believed I was dead at first. They pulled me on deck, rescuing me from certain death. One more night in the waves I would have frozen to death if my lack of nutrition didn't kill me first. They came close to capsizing in an effort to get me to safety. When the sailors realized I was alive they rushed me to their capital and into the hands of the Crown.

I spent well over a month lost in fever. The Kings own Chirurgeon had no hope that I would survive the fever-sleep and did his best to make my passing comfortable. Survive I did, against all odds. I awoke with no memory of who I was, where I came from or how I ended up floating on a destroyed piece of timber so far from the nearest landfall. A young lady barely of age without a single memory to comfort her.

Animlyre indeed.

Is it any wonder then, that the sailor knew my face?

I was a mystery, a tragic damsel saved from the bosom of the sea and unofficially adopted into the Monarchy of Cynthera. The King and Queen took me in and dedicated every resource they had into finding my identity. A lovely tale for certain; one that spread like wildfire even in the depths of winter.

Slowly pieces came back to me; impressions, feelings mostly. Colette, they called me; another name not my own. It was supposed to be temporary though it quickly turned more real than anything I'd ever known. I became Colette and had a new family, a new home. King Theodrid and Queen Emmeline took to the role of parents and in many ways they were. Prince Warin positioned himself as my brother before I even woke to his unfamiliar face.

Prince Emory... Well.

He became something altogether different.

We were attracted to one another from the beginning. An attraction that became harsh and bitter when we chose our duties over our desires. And when our animosity boiled into a frenzied confrontation, we somehow emerged lovers. A blistering collision of unresolved tension exploded and what had once been sharp hatred turned into a hot consuming love.

I gave him everything without reservations; my heart and soul. I would give him anything he asked. Emory is not the kind of man to ask.

The people of Cynthera pulled their own weight, everyone did their part. The King and Queen didn't laze about ordering their people to wait on them hand and foot. King Theodrid and his sons awoke before most of the city and tended to the upkeep of their home and their country themselves. As the reigning monarchs, Theodrid and Emory held their positions as servants to the people. As such, it was their duty to train the army, to protect and provide for Cynthera. They took on the bulk of the responsibilities and the people followed their example.

Don't think that I dallied about Bryndury like a spoiled court darling, wasting away the days with petty gossip and frivolous tasks. I earned my keep. What I didn't know I learned quickly. My skills and talents were valuable. I proved myself to be clever, educated and resourceful. With each passing day, I discovered details and clues about the person I was, every revelation into my previous knowledge and instruction brought us closer to the truth.

We knew when my identity was discovered we may not be able to prevent my departure. I prayed to any God that would listen that my true life would not tear us apart. I felt guilty for not wanting to know who I really was and made a child's bargain. I wouldn't resent the people who mourned and missed me if the God's would ensure I wouldn't be separated from the Bryn family, from Emory.

Be careful what you wish for.

A saying people have used as a warning for years. No one knew its origins. It was just something people said. I have reason to hate it. My prayer, my wish; it became the most painful lesson I have ever had to learn. If I thought the guilt I felt before was torture, the guilt I felt after was living hell.

Animlyre would have been a welcomed alternative. I thought it a simple wives' tale. On parliament day I begged the heavens to make it the truth. I wanted nothing more than to stay Colette child of the Sea. Not a child ripped from her family. Not a seafarer bereft of her people. I begged for anything but that.

Seafarer I've been called, just one more title; another name carelessly given.

I have...

I had a real mother; a wonderful, beautiful human mother. I had a father, a man strong in flesh and blood. I had a brother, protective and determined, my closest friend. I had many friends. People whom I'd cared deeply for and they had cared for me, looked to me for guidance, for strength. I was a perfectly normal, happy girl. Well, not completely normal. I was a perfectly happy princess; loved by her people and on my way to becoming a great ruler.

All of that was gone. Any potential I had, any my people had, was gone.

I prayed that I would have no responsibilities that would take me away from Cynthera. I got exactly what I wanted and I got it in the worst way possible.

A tragic story, yes? One of legend. To think I scoffed when the city folk whispered Animlyre and handed me flowers, honey bread or seashell necklaces. Emory and his family disregarded it and supported me nonetheless.

That day, the day of parliament was no exception. We stood in front of their people at a Royal assembly and I couldn't look in their direction. It was too much for any of us to bear. Perhaps I got that wish as well. I got all the gravity of Animlyre without any of the anonymity.

The sailor knew my face.

"I have word from Eskeria."

"Were there any survivors?"

"One."

One. What a sad and lonely word.