Princess Morgan, wild and fiery, heir to her father’s throne, can best any man with a sword. Now a woman she is fearful of being Queen and marriage. But when visitors from a different kingdom show up Morgan is faced with big changes. Faced with loss, love and some touches of magic Morgan has to become the Queen she is meant to be or succumb to a life worse than death.
About the Author:
Somebody told Ellie Potts you had to be rich to be eccentric otherwise you were just crazy. She set out to prove them wrong doing things she was told she couldn't do like dressing like a pirate, get her books published, playing video games, planning to survive a zombie apocalypse, and other antics most women stay away from. Her love of books motivate her and movies captivate her. She loves almost everything from Disney to George Romero. She lives in California's Central Valley where most of her stories and books take place. Her and her husband are owned by their attack Bugg, and her two red eared slider turtle minions who live in the backyard.
“Out here is the training area,” Cormack said, opening the old wooden door and walking onto a small wooden platform. They all looked down, watching the two fighting in the ring.
“King Cormack, your man is fighting in a dress,” Prince Philip said, stunned.
“Watch,” he said, as Morgan threw the helmet from her head.
“I will make you wear it, Ryan,” she said, angrily. She spun in a blur, sword hitting against Coyle’s.
The women gasped and the men stared in shocked silence. The guards and Morgan all went still, looking up. Ryan took her sword, and they all bowed, except for Morgan; she gave a slight nod of her head.
“Hello, Father, will you join us?”
“No. You know I do not fancy the sword as much as you do. And do not let us stop you,” he said.
“You let her play with the men?” King Henry asked, not holding the shock from his voice.
“She is my second,” he said.
“Because she is your heir?”
“Because she is the best sword fighter ever seen,” he said, smiling down at his daughter. She gave him a small salute with the sword, to thank him for his praise.
“But she is a woman,” Henry said.
“A girl? And you say she is the best of all your men? That does not make them seem very good, does it? I mean, a woman cannot be better than a man at many things, other than music and sewing,” Philip said.
“You can ask all my men. They are all very good with a sword, but they will tell you she can beat any of them. She has been fighting since she was a child.”
“You let your daughter fight?” Queen Jaylene said, stunned.
“I gave her a wooden sword. It was carved by my great-grandfather and passed down from father to child since.”
“I have never been beaten by a girl. And will never, for the sake of our sex, let it be said that a girl can beat a man,” Philip said.
“I should have died if I were to have a girl and find her fighting,”
“She does carry herself very well,” Cormack said.
Prince Philip looked down at the woman with curly, auburn hair. She watched them with dark emerald eyes that sparkled like jewels. He saw a fire in those eyes he did not agree with. He felt a need to tame her like a horse. She would make a wonderful trophy; even if, perhaps, she was not as beautiful as some of the other women in his circle. It would mean more land to add to his Father’s, one that produced very well.
“I challenge the princess,” he said. “I wish to see if she is really as good as the praise.”
The guards all murmured below. Coyle nudged her. “You have been challenged,” he whispered. “Will you accept?”
“Have I ever turned down a challenge?”
“I accept your challenge, Prince Philip.”