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“Hide this child. He is the future king,” the stranger said as he set the infant into the peasant woman’s arms.

Hope Rekindled

At last, through fog and aching exhaustion, they reached the northern monastery of Saint Aldwin. The monks recognized Edward’s royal seal and sheltered them as refugees.

Safety, however, was fragile.
The duke’s forces marched north.
Villages burned.
Civil war loomed.

Amalia and Rowan were summoned before the Council of the North to present the child. Only they could confirm Edward’s identity.

She stood before nobles, trembling but unbroken.

“Yes,” she said, “I hid him. I fed him with my own hands. If that makes me guilty, so be it. But I will not let him die.”

The council bowed their heads.

Edward would be protected—raised in secrecy until he could claim his place.

For illustration purposes only

For the first time since the night of fog, Amalia felt hope return.

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