Excerpt:

The King forced the door and entered the room. He intended to treat the daughter of his defeated opponent in the same manner his men were already handling some of the other women inside the fallen castle of the dead usurper.

The usurper’s daughter was said to be a beauty. The King would have her first. He had taken her father’s life and would now receive his prize in the form of her virtue and untouched flesh. Afterward, if she were as beautiful as proclaimed by spies, several of his lords would likely want to enjoy her body as well. The King wouldn’t object to that. Her fate was already sealed. The castle was to be burned down and taking worthless prisoners back to the royal palace was not in his plans.

He noticed a figure ensconcing in the shadows and commanded: “Show yourself.”

A young woman emerged from the darkness and stood close to a large window. She looked like an angel in the soft morning light.

The King was a man who had survived almost forty winters and nearly as many battles, but at that moment he felt as if his heart had just been pierced by an arrow. No intelligence about the beauty of the usurper’s daughter could have prepared him for that vision: a heartbreaking picture of innocent pulchritude ethereally illuminated by the first rays of sunlight.

Was she terrified by what was taking place inside the castle? Had she guessed that her father had been killed and now feared for her own life? Undoubtedly. All he could see, however, was her serene, almost divine, beauty.

The King knew then that he would never be able to drive his body into abusing such a delicate creature. He didn’t want to wield his power like that anymore. To ravage that perfect being would be a sacrilege. All feelings of revenge left his heart and were replaced by a sudden urge to protect the angel standing before him.

“Come, my Lady. You can’t stay here,” said the King, taking his gauntlet off and offering a bare hand to the petrified young woman.

The Lady vacillated and looked into his eyes as if searching for the meaning of those words.

“Do not be afraid. No one will hurt you. You have my word.”

“Am I to become your prisoner now, Your Grace?” she asked, with the same serenity in her voice as the one that had bewildered him in her appearance.

“No. Not a prisoner.” The King paused and tried to find the right word. “Guest,” he ended up by saying. “This war is over, dear Lady. Please, come to the royal palace as my guest.”