Revenge (Book One: The Silver Moon Series)

1

The year had been 1778; I had just given birth to my firstborn, and at that moment, everything had felt right in the world. I finally felt complete.

Sighing in content, I looked over at my loving husband Daniel, who was staring down at our son who was sleeping against my chest.

Daniel had leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on Oliver's head, before placing a loving kiss on my lips.

"He's perfect," Daniel said, smiling down brightly at me.

Daniel and I had wanted kids ever since we had first met, so after we married, we didn't waste any time. We began trying right away.

It took us two years to finally have a child. Two years of trying, two years of putting a strain on my body, two years of nothing but miscarriages. So naturally, when I learned I was pregnant with Oliver, we were beyond happy, but there was also that little voice in the back of our heads.

That little voice that kept reminding us of the several failed pregnancies. Daniel and I finally got to a point where we were letting ourselves be happy about the pregnancy. We had gotten to a point where we had decided that we couldn't let fear ruin this for us.

Nine months later and there we were, me lying in bed, Daniel beside me, as we watched our son sleep. Little did I know that our little moments like that wouldn't last forever. Little did I know that in twenty years, I would be all alone.

Two years after Oliver's birth, everything went to hell. Daniel had been killed, Oliver had been kidnapped, our castle had been attacked. We had lost a lot of our men, but their deaths hadn't been in vain. We had found a few of the enemy's men amongst our own. Needless to say, they were dealt with. We made sure to avenge the deaths of our fallen warriors.

Sighing, I stared out into the forest. This has been something I've done almost every day since I lost them. I don't know what I was expecting, maybe to see Daniel walk out of the woods with our beautiful son in his arms.

"Yeah, right," I muttered under my breath. It's already been twenty-two years. If it hasn't happened already, then I don't know what made me think it would happen at all.

I closed the balcony doors, locking them before the door to my office opened. Michael walked into the room, looking stressed. His body was tense as he placed a folder on my desk.

"What's this?" I asked as I picked up the folder, opening it to see a stack of papers inside.

"We have a bit of a situation," Michael said, his voice sounding unsteady, as if he was nervous to talk about it.

"That situation being?" I asked as I skimmed through the papers.

"Well, earlier today, when the guards were doing their rounds, they came across an unconscious man. They notified me when I was in the middle of a meeting, so I told them to take him to the holding cells until I could get there. Once there, I could tell something was off about this person. It's quite weird, actually. His scent is very familiar, but I just can't place it."

"Is that all?" I asked. I felt like Michael was hiding something from me.

"There is one more thing. I'm just not sure how to bring it up."

"And what would that be exactly?"

"Well, you see, he bears the royal symbol, Belle," Michael spoke softly.

"That's impossible."

"I've seen it with my own eyes."

"The only way this person could have the royal crest on him is if he is a part of the Claret family, and I highly doubt he is."

"What if he is, though?"

"Michael, there is no wa-" I looked at Michael as realization hit me.

"You're not implying what I think you are, are you?" I asked.

"What if he's Oliver?"

"He's not," I said firmly, my tone turning cold.

"He could be, though."

"Michael, please don't," I begged. I didn't want to get my hopes up just to have them crushed.

Before Michael could say anything else, my office door opened again as Daryl walked into the room. He walked over to Michael, whispering something to him before Michael left.

"Daryl?"

"I assume Michael has informed you about the man that was found earlier today?"

"He has," I say, wondering where Daryl was heading with this.

"I think it would be best if you come down and have a look at him," Daryl said.

"Why should I do that?" I asked.

"Because I truly believe he is your son," Daryl said, catching me by surprise.

"Daryl I-,"

"I'm sorry Arabella, but this is one of those times where I'm not going to take no as an answer," he said.

"Fine," I said, as I let my shoulders slump in defeat.

Daryl walked over to me, gently placing his hand on the small of my back before he guided me out of the room. It wasn't until we were halfway to our destination that I realized we were heading towards the infirmary.

"This isn't the way to the holding cells," I said, looking over at Daryl, who glanced at me before looking away.

"We had to move him to the infirmary," Daryl said, causing my brows to furrow.

"Why?"

"He's severely malnourished, and on top of that his body is littered with wounds that aren't healing that well," he said as he pushed open the door to the infirmary.

We walked in as we made our way down a long corridor, only stopping once we reached the last door in the hall.

"He's in here," Daryl said as he turned towards me.

"What do I do if it is him?" I asked, biting my lip nervously.

"Then you make up for all of those years the two of you lost," he said, giving me a reassuring look before walking away.

Taking a calming breath, I reached my hand out, taking hold of the doorknob. Turning it until I heard the metallic click, letting me know the door was now open. Pushing the door open, I walked into the quiet room. I quietly shut the door behind me, before walking further into the room.

Looking around, I noticed just how plain the room was. All four walls were completely white, with shelves full of medical tools. The only other thing that was in this room was a single cot that was now being occupied. I stopped at the end of the bed, staring down at the sleeping form of this mystery person.

Daryl hadn't lied when he had told me that he was severely malnourished. His cheeks were sunken in, he had dark circles under his eyes. His arms were so thin, he looked so fragile, like if you touched him wrong, he would break. I was so caught up in examining him that I hadn't noticed he had woken up and was now staring at me, staring at me with the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen, blue eyes I thought I would never get to see again.

"O-Oliver?"