Read The Eye of the Wolf Online
Authors: Sadie Vanderveen
The Eye of the Wolf
| The Eye of the Wolf |
| Sadie Vanderveen |
| Sadie Vanderveen (2011) |
A rare yellow sapphire stolen during the Crusades. A secret kept for 900 years. A murder that threatens a nation. And a love that could save a king.
When Professor Mikayla Knight accepts the offer to research the history of the tiny Mediterranean island nation Amor, she expects to enjoy the sun and discover the truths of this hidden monarchy. Her expectations quickly change when handsome local islander, Will Chambers, volunteers to assist in her research; however, Will is not all that he seems and Mikayla finds herself lured by the passions he creates within her.
As she flirts with the temptations Will has to offer, Mikayla is drawn into a palace intrigue 900 years in the making. When the reigning monarch is murdered, Mikayla and Will are in a race to find the rare Eye of the Wolf sapphire and the murderer of a king.
The Eye
of
the Wolf
Sadie
Vanderveen
2011
The Eye of the Wolf
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2011 by Sadie Vanderveen
Dedicated
to my sister, Carrie, who dared me to rediscover my dream,
and to my husband, Bill,
for encouraging me to follow my dream.
Table of Contents
Mikayla Knight looked up from
the book she had been reading and out the plane’s window at the island that was
rapidly getting closer. The green hills rose through the air and pierced the
sky. Rocky cliffs jutted out, crashing waves carving out stone millennia old.
Tiny fishing villages peaked out from the coast. The interior of the island was
green and covered with tall, leafy trees of the Mediterranean. White sandy
beaches glimmered like diamonds, blinding in the sunlight.
She felt the change in air
speed and saw the flaps change direction as they began their descent to her new
home, for the next 3 months, the island nation of Amor, the longest running
monarchy in the history of the world. China may have been the longest running continuous
civilization and Great Britain may have the most famous of all monarchies, but
they couldn’t hold a candle to the continuity of the monarchy of Amor, 900
years and still, the same family. She stowed the book on the medieval history
of the Mediterranean in her on -flight bag and snatched out her camera. She
attached the telephoto lens and hoped to snap a few quick pictures from the air
before touching down.
She impatiently shoved a few
stray hairs out of her eyes and slid off her glasses. She wanted to get these
photos perfect. Even as she focused the camera and sweated about the angle,
Mikayla couldn’t help but wonder about the change her life had taken in the
last two months. Just two months ago she had been planning her wedding to Alex
and moving to Baltimore, Maryland to be “more supportive of her husband.”
Her world was about to become monotonous, focused solely on country clubs and
children. Then, one afternoon, as she completed a lecture at Georgetown
University, she received a book on the history of the Mediterranean and a
mysterious message about a meeting with the historical director of Amor. Rene
Dejeune, the historical director of Amor had arrived in her office in a flurry
of mystery and chaos. He had handed her an envelope with plane tickets and a
handwritten letter from the King of Amor. She was invited to spend three
months researching the history of Amor and writing a book about the island and
its history, most specifically, its monarchy. It was a dream come trye. To have
the king of Amor request her had fulfilled a goal of being the only historian
to gain access to the isolated monarchy. Without hesitation, she had accepted.
Amor had called to her; she felt it had literally spoken her name. Its mystery.
Romance. Past, present, and future. She had been obsessed with its
obscure and unique history since her childhood. Amor was dark and
glamorous. It was the chance of a lifetime, even if it had cost her her
fiancé and her future life as a suburban housewife.
Alex had been very specific that
he didn’t want her running off to complete yet another research project in
another country. He had given her an ultimatum. She either was to move to
Baltimore and finally get her wedding dress altered or there would never be a
wedding. Despite the fact that her friends and family thought she was insane,
Mikayla had accepted the job in Amor and closed up her townhouse in Georgetown.
The only person who had understood had been her friend and mentor, Carolyn
Shuler. Carolyn had laughed and welcomed the change, encouraging her to explore
the world around her at the same time as Alex had wrenched the three carat
diamond off of her ring finger, called her several names, shoved her through
the door of the house that would have been theirs, and slammed the door in her
face. He had called her crazy, obsessive, selfish, all of which might have been
true therefore had not hurt nearly as much as he intended them to. She had
refused to marry him many times over during their two- year relationship, not
ready to make that commitment to him. He thought her selfish. It irritated and
hurt just to think of the image that portrayed. She preferred to see herself as
driven to prove herself in the academic world, but never self-involved. She
wanted recognition. She wanted success. Alex hadn’t fit into that image.
She wasn’t hurt by the idea
that Alex didn’t support her life’s work. She had come to expect that because
she had known all along that he didn’t understand her passion for the Middle
Ages and the Renaissance. No one really understood except, maybe Carolyn, whose
own obsession with Ancient Greece was paralleled. Carolyn had known all along
that Mikayla couldn’t settle for being a lawyer’s wife who lounged around the
pool at the country club all day. It had finally occurred to Mikayla as she
stood in front of Alex telling him her plan. Never once did she ask Alex to
accompany her; she had simply told him she was going. She had never been in
love with him. She had been in love with the idea of finally being in love,
having waited 27 years to fall in love. She hadn’t been in love with Alex
anymore than he, apparently, had been in love with her. It was a chilling
thought to have, and at first, a difficult one to accept. Now, it just didn’t
seem to matter as her goal came one step closer. She was the only historian to
do hands-on research on Amor.
Now, the beautiful ivory, satin
gown hung on a rack in a consignment shop and a plane carried her on a new
adventure. Alex had, in the end, been just another man a string of friends and
companions who had disappeared into oblivion when her career moved forward.
Now, here she was, peering
through clouds at Amor, an isolationist island nation that had had a hand in
the history of Europe since it was first discovered by fishermen during the
ancient Greek times. It had been a resting point for Crusaders and a thorn in
the side of conquerors throughout history. It was also the wealthiest country
in the world.
The
spires of the Secluded City poked through the clouds and thrilled the other passengers
on the tiny plane with her. Oohs and ahhs resounded through the tiny charter
plane as heads craned to get a good look at the city itself. The spires and
turrets of the castle reflected gold in the bright Mediterranean sun while the
red tiled roof looked like a sunset blending into the bright blue of the sky.
The granite walls overlooked the ocean and gave it a forbidding appearance. The
castle with its spires and turrets sat in the middle of the city itself, a
remnant of the Middle Ages and the gothic architectural style. The ramparts
were built of matching heavy stone as the walls of the city itself. A moat swam
around the castle in the interior of the Secluded City. The water was green
against the gray background of the castle and the interior buildings of the
city. The stables, blacksmith shop, and the homes of the servants lined the
walls, separated from the royal family by the deep, green moat and the heavy
wooden draw-bridge that traversed the moat itself.
Mikayla glanced at the tourists
on the plane who were snapping photos from the windows of the plane. Most of
these tourists would never even see the inside of the Secluded City or the
medieval castle that stood tall against time within its walls. The Secluded
City was a fortress designed to protect the king and his family against
invaders. It was also designed to ensure that the king and his family would
remain separate from the people who chose to live on the island as part of the
culture. It spoke volumes of the relationship between the king and his
subjects.
Mikayla
snapped a few more pictures just for good measure through her tiny window
before stowing the camera as the flight attendant took her drink from the arm
rest and reminded her to put her seatbelt back on for the landing. She was excited,
she couldn’t deny it. She had left everything in Washington, her entire life,
in order to do this research project. She was unable to give up travel and
adventure, even if it came in the form of dusty old books. She enjoyed her
teaching position at Georgetown and had for the past three years. She enjoyed
the academic freedom the university allowed her and the support she received
when she was asked to help with the research of some artifact in Europe. She
enjoyed the excitement in the eyes of her students when they saw proof of the
existence of legends and folk lore from around the world. She enjoyed the
excitement she still felt when she found some odd piece of history that had
been overlooked or translated some mysterious scroll from the Middle Ages and
added a piece of information to an already huge history around the world.
Giving that up for a life not dictated by her wasn’t part of the by age 30
plan. Alex was gone, and unfortunately, she didn’t seem to even miss him. There
was no gaping hole, just an excitement for the world that was peeking through
the clouds beneath her.
Mikayla sighed. Alex just hadn’t seemed to
understand that need to discover new things, not oversee the old. He also
hadn’t understood why she just couldn’t be happy with the credit card he
provided her and the brand new car he parked in her garage. She had liked her
addiction to paying with only cash and the beat-up ’88 Volvo that she had
inherited from an older sister. He also hadn’t understood why she hated
sitting underneath an umbrella next to the country club pool schmoozing with
the other wives of the attorneys in his firm. He hadn’t seen it as trying to
buy her love or change her instead of just loving her for who she was and what
she was. He just hadn’t understood her.