Sarah is a beautiful redhead who works for a special agency that fixes broken timelines and rescues historically significant people who are in trouble. She has a special set of skills that allow her to 'tap' someone out of a dangerous situation. Her present assignment is to find and rescue a prince whose son eliminates hunger and disease on his island nation.
Some comments from recent reviews:
5.0 out of 5 stars
An enjoyable read
March 11, 2018
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
This is a fun easy, fast read. When science meets fantasy involving time travel is where the storyline lives and shines. The characters: Sarah a lovely redhead and a prince. The story starts out with Sarah approaching an apparent lifeless figure on the floor of a dark dungeon. She has come to help the Crown Prince Lucas of the Mist Kingdom in the highland of LaMere. The prince corrects her by saying he’s not the Crown Prince but his brother and if she saves him, he has nothing to offer here. She does return the next night with food. As conversation ensues the reader discovers that the prince’s father, King Theodore of the House of Walker is close-minded, stubborn, vicious, and brutal per the prince and per Sarah a beast. The prince was out riding on his horse and woke up in the dungeon. He was apparently falsely accused of attacking and killing two men per Sarah but he protests he attacked no one. As it turns out he is in fact the Crown Prince and learns that his two other brothers have been murdered. Here the story conflict has been set and the storyline moves along at a rapid clip. Without retelling the whole story suffice it to say it was an easy, sit down in a couple of hours by the fireplace fast read. It’s worth picking it up to find out if Sarah manifested the courage necessary to ultimately be the heroine she set out to be. No spoilers. I enjoyed the read right down to the poignant dedication after the story.
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Read an excerpt here:
Look What I Found in the Dungeon
Sarah approached the lifeless figure huddled on the floor. The prisoner was shackled to the wall in the small, dark, damp cell. She reached down toward his throat to make sure he was still alive.
“No,” he growled as he pulled away from her.
“Shh,” whispered Sarah. “I come to help you, not to hurt you. But you must be quiet. I cannot be detected in here.”
“They will kill you - or worse,” he whispered, “for trying to help me. I am not some poor unfortunate soul. Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Yes, I do. You are Crown Prince Lucas of the Mist Kingdom in the highland of LaMere. Let me touch your neck.”
He moved toward her as much as he could.
She gently touched his bearded neck. “You are very warm, Prince Lucas. I fear you have the fever.”
“I am Prince Lucas, yes, but not the Crown Prince. My eldest brother Marcus is the Crown Prince and heir to the throne of the Mist Kingdom. I wield no power, here or in the highland. If you help me, I can do nothing for you in return. Leave this rotten stink hole at once. You only put yourself in extreme danger. There is nothing you can do for me.”
“Oh, really?” Sarah laughed as she put a small flask to his lips. He sipped, then swallowed and sighed.
“Ahh, good. Thank you,” he whispered. “What is that?”
“Herb and honey infused whiskey. It will induce a deep and heavy sleep. If you are chained to the wall in here, you may as well get some rest.” Sarah gave him more of the strong, sweet liquid. “Sleep now, Prince Lucas. I will return tomorrow night, when the guards are fast asleep. I will bring you bread and cheese. Is there something else you crave?”
“Freedom from these bloody chains. A bath. Warmth. Clothing. Sunshine. Strawberries.”
“Strawberries, I can do. Maybe something for the fever.”
“Why? Why do you chance danger to bring me real food and medicine?” Lucas eyed her warily.
“Because you need to regain your strength if I am to help you escape.”
“Escape?” squealed Lucas with a surprisingly hearty laugh for a man in his depleted condition. “Are you daft?”
“Shh,” whispered Sarah. “Be quiet.”
“You have quite the sense of humor, lovely one,” whispered Lucas. “I am chained to the wall in a filthy dungeon in the miserable, hellish depths of Marlow Castle. There is no escape for me. Where would I go? I am too weak to even make it to the drawbridge, let alone up the rugged terrain of the mountainside. I am alone. My people have abandoned me. And, in case you did not notice, this cell is locked.”
“So then… how did I get in here?” Sarah smiled.
The prince looked around in confusion.
“Now, close your eyes.”
Lucas closed his eyes.
The next night, Sarah appeared in the locked cell once again. “Is there anyone in here who is hungry for real food?” she whispered to the sleepy prince.
“Ahh, there you are!” He smiled at her. “When I awoke refreshed from my deep and restful sleep, I was not sure if you were real or simply a lovely vision of my imagination.”
“I assure you, I am real. Here,” she handed him a small cloth pouch with berries and pieces of bread and cheese and a flask of water.
“I am most grateful,” said Lucas, “although I do not know why you do this.” Lucas lifted the cloth pouch to his nose and inhaled. “Smells wonderful.” He picked a strawberry from the pouch and ate it. “This is the best thing I have tasted since, since…”
“How long have you been a prisoner?”
“I do not know,” he said as he broke off pieces of cheese and bread into a smaller bite size, nibbling in a regal manner. “One sunny day I set out for a ride alone in the wooded countryside outside the castle walls to clear my mind. I needed to get away to think. I had yet another argument with my father, King Theodore of the House of Walker. Have you ever heard of him?”
“Yes. He is a beast.”
“Yes. He is closed-minded and stubborn, as well as vicious and brutal. Anyway, I was knocked off my horse. I woke up in here.”
“I heard you attacked the Marlowe hunting party while they were out gathering food. Two men were killed in the attack. The penalty here for murder is death.”
“I attacked no one. I murdered no one. In fact, I have never taken a life. At home, my reputation is that of a lover, not a fighter. And a planter. I have a fascination with seed growth, plant care, and ways to grow more food for my people.” He smiled up at Sarah. “I was out riding by myself. I saw no one…until I woke up here.
“Have they tortured you for information about the defenses of the Kingdom of the Mist?”
“Four men descended upon me with clubs and straps, wanting information I did not possess. After a while, they gave up. No one has asked me anything since then. I have been locked in here alone. The conditions are deplorable. The food is not fit for livestock. But no one has struck me since, although they do threaten. The guard who brings me rations pushes them under the bottom bar on the floor and carefully backs away from me, as if he is fearful of me.”
“How then did you get the wounds on your neck and wrists…and ankles?”
“Every now and then, I attempt to break free by pulling away from this cold, damp wall with all my might. Illusions of strength, I guess.”
“Please stop it. You are weakening yourself with these self-injuries.”
Lucas nodded. “They do not seem to be working anyway.”
“I must go now,” said Sarah, collecting the cloth pouch and offering Lucas one last drink from the flask.
“What is your name?”
“Will you return, Sarah?”
There was a noise in the corridor. Lucas looked toward the sound. When he looked back, Sarah was gone.
“Dimitri, I found him. He’s locked in a cell in the dungeon, chained to the wall. He’s is bad shape. Injuries, fever, starving. I recommend immediate extraction if we’re to save his life,” Sarah spoke quietly into her mobile unit.
“No, not yet. Something’s gone wrong. The timelines don’t match anymore.”
“What? How can that be? They matched last year. They matched two days ago.”
“I know. But not today. Maybe it’s just a glitch in the system. Maybe not. Are you sure he’s the Crown prince?”
“Keep an eye on him. Keep him alive at all costs. Contact me tomorrow night.”
Dimitri clicked off. Sarah stared on her phone. She was assigned this mission, to save the life of the Crown Prince of the Mist, a year ago. Soon she would ‘tap’ him out of here. The mission would be over. And then what?
The third night Sarah returned with more of the strong, sweet sedative.
“I come bearing bad news. Drink,” she handed him the small flask.
Lucas took a long swig from the flask. “What is it?”
“The date of your public execution has been set. It is soon. Word has been sent to King Theodore.”
“My father does not care. He will not send a rescue team. I am expendable.”
“No, Lucas, you are not. You are the Crown Prince.”
“No, Sarah. I am the king’s third son. He has told me many times I am a major disappointment to him. I lack all the qualities necessary to rule the highland. My eldest brother, Marcus, is the Crown Prince, and my father’s favorite. He is bright and charming. He makes quick decisions. He inspires our people. He is also a good warrior. He has been groomed all his life to assume his rightful place as king. He will be a good one.
“Then there is my older brother, Darius. He is second in line to the throne. He is also well-versed in all the kingly duties. He is also smart and charismatic. He is the high priest of the church of the Kingdom of the Mist. He may not be as open-minded as Marcus, nor as kind and understanding, but he can rally our people with his words of duty and honor and higher purpose. He would also make a good king.
“My father explains it thusly: Marcus is his golden heir. Darius is his silver spare. And I am his ‘I do not care.’ I have had all the privileges and advantages of living a princely life, but none of the responsibilities or expectations. I have lived a rather useless life.
“So, tell me, what is this bad news?”
“You…are the Crown Prince of the Mist Kingdom. Marcus was killed in a fatal fall from his horse. Darius was found dead in his church. They suspect it was poison.”
“No! Marcus. Darius. Both my brothers are dead? That cannot be. When?”
“It is true, Lucas. Within this month, both of your brothers have died.”
“You say Darius may have been poisoned?”
“And Marcus? Was it an accident or was he murdered also?”
“I do not know.”
“Who would do such a horrible thing? The lowland king? King Jason?”
“I do not believe King Jason would have given such an order. He is a good and just king and a good man. He told me he just learned of your incarceration here and your impending execution for the murder of our men. King Jason expects either an attack to rescue you or a Mist bargaining unit to plead for your life. If at all possible, he will negotiate with your people. He will offer your release for land on the mountainside that was once Redland to grow more food for our people.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“You would prefer to stay in this filthy hole chained to the wall?”
“Does that give you some idea of how truly unpleasant things are at home? I could do nothing right in my father’s eyes when Marcus and Darius were alive. I can just imagine his disgust at being left with his weak, stupid, spineless, and deplorable third son, who prefers plants and seeds to swords and guns. And my mother, my only source of love and support, is, I am sure, consumed with grief and sadness over the tremendous loss she bears.”
“I am sorry, Lucas, for the loss of your brothers, that King Theodore is your father, and that you are stuck in this horrible place. We will meet again soon. When we do, pretend we have never spoken. Trust me. I will get you out of here. Please, do as you are bid so you will not be harmed.”
Lucas closed his eyes. He leaned back on the cold, stone wall.
“Sarah, you do not understand. You risk so much to get me out of here and I have no place to go. I do not wish to return home. Sarah?” Lucas looked around.
“Lady Sarah,” said King Jason of Marlowe, “you would be doing me a great service if you would take a look at the Mist prisoner. His guards tell me he is injured and weak. He strains at his chains and shackles, causing his own wounds. No one knows for sure how long he has been kept in the dungeon. Surely, he needs medical care, as well as better accommodations. After all, he is the Crown Prince of Mist. I know how you feel about the Misters. They killed all your people because they feared their abilities. Instead of embracing the Reds, revering them, and learning from them, they chose to round up and eliminate every Red they could find. I would understand if you would rather not help him.”
“I know what the evil people of the Mist did to my kin, but I will look at him because you asked me, Your Majesty. Where is this prisoner?”
“He is in the vilest, most disgusting hole in the wall in all of Marlowe, a place usually reserved for the most violent scum in the lowlands. I will not ask you to go there. I will have him brought to you.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I will have him cleaned up and brought to your clinic in the morning.”
“I will look at him, I will tend his injuries. I will administer aid and medication if needed. But, Majesty, I do not wish to be left alone with the beast. I could end up vaporized like my kin.”
“Do not fret, Sarah. I would not put you in any danger to save him. You are far too valuable to me, to all of Marlowe, to allow that to happen. Two guards will be with you at all times. But from what I hear, I believe he is too weak to attack you.”
“Do not underestimate the treachery of the Mist warriors, Your Majesty. Your weakened prisoner comes from a diabolical sect.”
“True, Sarah, but I have discovered evil does not honor boundary lines. I think it must be an unfortunate part of our genetic make-up. But fear not. You will be safe. I promise it.”