Taken by Darkness

The night he’d been taken from the loving arms of his mother had been nearly a decade ago. Much to his dismay and sorrow, Ashley’d never seen her again after that night, his last memory of her being one of her kneeling on the parlor floor, sobbing as he was taken away. Word had arrived at the palace within days that she’d been found dead in their home, a bullet hole in her skull. He was still unsure if she’d taken her own life, or if someone else had, and now that he was older, he meant to find out.

Even still, he supposed his life within the palace walls wasn’t too terrible. Once they found out about his love for wearing dresses, Ashley was raised as a little girl by a Lady of the Court. Instead of being called Sir Ashley, he was addressed as Lady Ashley, and curtsied rather than bowed. Only the royal ruling family and his adoptive one knew the truth of his gender.

However, no one but His Majesty, King of Silverstone, knew what plans he had for the future of the young, cross-dressing man. Not even the Queen knew, and it was said that she knew more than even his closest personal adviser. Mayhap it was because he didn’t want the kingdom finding out, should it have something to do with politics, mayhap it was for a different reason altogether. Either way, he didn’t really give a fig, provided he wasn’t married off against his will to someone he wasn’t attracted to.

KNOCK KNOCK! “Ashley, my dear! ’Tis time for us to leave, lest we make a late arrival at the palace!”

Startled from his daydream of a handsome young man he’d seen in the town square the other day, he took a moment to regain his composure before responding. “Just allow me to don my slippers, madam!”

“Oh, Ashley,” the middle-aged woman said when he got to the bottom of the stairs moments later. “When are you ever going to call me Mother?”

“Please forgive any disrespect since you have always acted thus, but never,” Ashley answered. “My mother has long since joined my father in Heaven, and in my heart, I feel it would dishonor both their memories to refer to anyone but them as Mother and Father.”

The woman who’d adopted him, Trista, pursed her lips in displeasure, but he noted the spark of anger and hatred in his eyes.

Ashley dutifully walked ahead of her to the carriage waiting to take them to the palace. However, his spine was more rigid, his steps a bit quicker than normal, as if he were being marched off to have a Death sentence fulfilled. Mayhap it was that spark of negative emotion in her eyes that made his instincts bade him not turn his back to Trista, not that he’d ever trusted her. Mayhap it was that those same instincts bade him beware this meeting with His Majesty, that it was fraught with naught but evil. He honestly didn’t know, but somehow he got the feeling he wasn’t going to like the ultimate outcome, nor go along with it willingly.



In the private study at the palace, Trista paced back and forth before His Majesty. After ten long years of Ashley’s ungratefulness, she was more than ready to be rid of him. She’d once been the best friend of his natural mother, but after Sirena practically stole her intended, she’d essentially snapped. Never had she actually loved the man she’d ultimately married, and during those years, she’d wanted her friend-turned-rival dead.

The King, Christopher Biersack, watched the woman pacing before him. He had his own plans for young Ashley, based on something he’d known was passed from generation to generation on Sirena Purdy’s side of his family. Every first-born son for the last two centuries was born with what could only be described as an ability borne of witchcraft. However, knowing his own son, Prince Andrew, was more interested in his own gender than the opposite, he didn’t rightly care if it was natural or witchcraft. His gift and upbringing as a little girl would suit his needs, whether he arranged a marriage between his son and the cross-dressing adolescent or not.

“I want him out of my manor, Your Majesty,” Trista hissed, hatred blazing in her eyes.

“Whatever for, Lady Trista?” the King asked curiously.

“He has always been naught but a thorn in my side!” she growled. “I took him in when no one else would after he was orphaned, been naught but a mother to him, but he refuses to acknowledge my caring selflessness!”

He knew that wasn’t completely true, but he made no move to call her out on it.

“He could at least call me Mama Trista if he didn’t call me Mama, but he insists upon calling me Ma’am or Miss Trista!” the scorned, enraged woman seethed.

“At least he shows some amount of respect where respect is due,” King Christopher said gently.

“But of course you would not understand!” She turned a scathing gaze on him.

“As unnatural as it may seem, Prince Andrew has shown an interest in him. I may be able to arrange a marriage by special license within the next two or three days.”

“I do not care if he weds your son, by choice or by force!” Trista took a deep breath. “I want him out of my manor today!”

“Watch your tone with me, Lady Trista.”

“My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty.”

“At any rate, we have more than enough empty rooms here at the palace.” The King met her icy gaze. “Take your leave now, while he is distracted, and I shall tell him an ill relation sent urgent word for you and you left him here so he would not be alone in the absence of yourself and your husband.”

“Oh, many thanks, Your Majesty!” She dropped into a deep curtsy. “He has never seemed bright enough to see past such a believable falsehood.”

King Christopher merely hummed as she followed his order, glad he was getting the adolescent, whom he already knew was more intelligent than he looked, away from that hateful, envious woman.

Notes