The Golden City_A Medieval Time Travel Romance

  The Golden City

  Eternity Rings, Book 2

  Paige Elwood

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Epilogue

  Also By Paige Elwood

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Paige Elwood

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design & Interior Format by The Killion Group, Inc.

  Prologue

  Max held the candle steady as it flickered in the light breeze drifting through the tunnel. The limited light from the tiny orange flame illuminated the passageway a few feet ahead of him. He stooped slightly as he approached an area where the ceiling hung lower than the rest. The first few times he’d been through these passageways, he’d ended up with a bump on his forehead to show for it. Now he knew each passageway by heart, including the spots where the ceiling hung too low to accommodate his six-foot frame.

  The thick stone walls of the passageways kept out any noise from the castle beyond the walls, and an eerie quiet hung in the air. The quiet was broken only by the shuffling of Max’s shoes along the damp stone floor and the rhythmic drip of condensation dropping from the ceiling to the floor. Every so often one of those drips would land on the back of Max’s neck and make him shudder.

  The musty and slightly damp air smelled like freedom to Max. The freedom to move around the castle as he wished. The freedom to indulge in his various hobbies. He’d take the smell of these passageways over the scent of the flowers blooming in the castle gardens any day.

  He reached the small wooden door, recessed into the wall, and withdrew the key from his pocket. He put the key in the lock and turned it slowly. The sound of the lock releasing reverberated through the passageway, disturbing the otherwise still atmosphere.

  He slipped into the room, only accessible via the passageways. The air in this room smelled sweeter, and it was his favorite smell. Better than the damp and narrow passageways, the room smelled of freshly cut wood, herbs, and plants he used as dyes and the dusty old books that lined the shelves against one wall.

  It was Max's favorite place in the whole world. Here he could shut out all of his daily responsibilities and all the other pressures and just concentrate on creating. He loved to create new things. Sometimes during the day, a new idea would pop into his head for a creation that would solve a problem, but he often didn’t have any parchment or a quill to jot things down.

  Throughout the day his head would become full with all the ideas floating around, and he couldn't wait until the sun had set and he could make his regular journey to his secret workshop and draw out his plans. Today, however, only one problem had been on his mind.

  He took a seat at his workbench and pulled the rings out of his pocket, placing them on the bench in front of him. On the other side of the bench sat a set of replica rings that he had tried to create. Unfortunately, they weren’t quite right. Max was good with his hands and his own contraptions were well built and sturdy, but he lacked the finesse to recreate the fine detail on these rings. He had been working on them for a frustrating two weeks now and time was running out. Eventually he’d had to admit defeat and seek help from his confidante, Henry.

  He was waiting here for Henry to arrive with details of a forger who might be able to help him. So for now, while he waited, Max put the problem of the rings to one side, deciding to devote most of this evening to finishing his latest creation.

  He took out his toolbox and busied himself. He often got easily lost in his work and it was always a welcome escape. He adored the intellectual side of inventing things, applying his knowledge of physics and alchemy, but creating real, tangible objects with his own two hands gave him a sense of satisfaction like nothing else. Perhaps in another life this could have been his vocation and not a hobby.

  He sanded and planed for what seemed like hours until the creaking of the wooden door startled him out of his work-induced reverie. He glanced up to see Henry entering the room.

  “Is it time?” asked Max.

  Henry nodded. “He's waiting for you in the third alley along from the exit of this passageway.”

  Max placed his tools into their case with slightly shaky hands and swiped the rings from the table, sliding them into his pocket.

  Henry's rheumy eyes moved to the piece that Max had been working on. He moved for a closer look, peering at the half-finished contraption, and then at the schematic drawing next to it that Max had been working from. He grunted a little, and a small smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. He glanced at Max. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Perhaps,” Max said with a small smile of his own.

  Henry chuckled “Always the mysterious one,” he said. He looked at Max, his nose scrunching slightly as he took in his appearance. “You might want to be a little less conspicuous,” he said, gesturing at Max’s finely tailored tunic. “I saw a few guards patrolling about an hour ago.”

  “Thank you. I don't have anything less conspicuous, though,” he said, looking down at his tunic. “This may just have to do.”

  “Here.” Henry handed him his plain brown cloak made of rough material. Max took it gratefully and threw it around his shoulders, fastening it with the dull pin Henry had attached to it in order to cover his otherwise fine apparel.

  “Better?” Max asked Henry.

  “Yes, now you just look poor like me,” he said, smiling.

  Max shrugged. “Sometimes I wish that is exactly what I was.”

  His hand moved to adjust the sword attached to his belt. He moved the cloak slightly to cover the weapon; it made no sense to advertise that he was armed, but only a fool would venture out in the alleyways of the city late at night without protection. The city grew more and more dangerous all the time, with bandits and thieves roaming the streets at night. He hoped he wouldn't bump into any of them, but he needed to be prepared for it.

  Henry walked with him for some of the way through the passage. The glow of both candles threw more light ahead, but he still found it impossible to see more than a few feet in front. They walked one behind the other, Henry in front, as the narrow corridor made it impossible to walk side by side. Even walking single file, Max’s cloak sometimes snagged on the jagged edges where the passageways had been only r
oughly carved out of the stone.

  When they reached a second door recessed into the wall, Henry bade Max goodnight. “Good luck, my friend,” he said before he opened the door and silently slipped through.

  Max hoped he wouldn't need luck. This was his last chance to put a plan in place before Saturday came around. After that he wouldn't be able to put any kind of contingency into place.

  The exit to this particular passageway opened out behind an enormous privet. The gap between the wall and the privet was incredibly narrow, and Max had to press his back against the wall and shuffle sideways until he came to a small gap in the greenery. He paused a while, observing the castle ground from the safety of his hiding place and listening carefully for footsteps, voices, or any signs of life. The sounds of small wildlife that had made the privet their home and the faint laughter of the kitchen maids cleaning up for the night were the only sounds. Satisfied, he stepped quickly through the gap and hurried out across the castle grounds and through the secret exit in the castle wall.

  The castle overlooked the town square, and its numerous alleys gave the area a maze-like feel. Max followed Henry's instructions carefully, his heart hammering in his chest as he approached a shadowy figure loitering halfway down the third alleyway.

  “John?” Max asked in a low voice as he approached the figure.

  He hoped this was the man he had arranged to meet and not a common thief waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Max felt a little better at the added bulk to his frame from his lightly padded tunic and cloak. His height also gave him a slight intimidating edge that may deter a nervous thief. His hand touched the hilt of his sword hidden under his cloak, poised and ready to tackle any threat.

  “That's me,” the shadowy figure said gruffly. “Although I am not sure why we are meeting in this alleyway at night. I have a perfectly serviceable shop.”

  “Needs must…” Max said. “I can assure you it will be worth your while.”

  John the forger eyed him curiously, and Max was glad of the shadows blurring his features. “That remains to be seen. I’m only here because I trust Henry. Now, do you have the items you'd like me to recreate?”

  Max passed him the two golden rings currently nestled in the palm of his hand. The set of two rings consisted of one masculine gold plain band dotted with rubies, and the other was a more delicate, intricate pattern with the rubies sparkling in the band.

  The forger inspected the rings, his nose wrinkling with concentration as he peered intently at the golden bands.

  “These look expensive.” He tilted them in the dim light coming through the only window, examining the rubies and the delicate metalwork of the female ring. “I could probably try to make them with slightly cheaper materials, but they wouldn’t be exactly the same.”

  “It doesn’t matter about the price,” Max said firmly. “I need it doing and I need it doing fast.”

  “When do you need it finished by?” the forger asked, eyeing Max skeptically. It suddenly dawned on him that dressed like this, the forger might think he was a servant looking to dupe his employers and steal the real rings. That could be a problem.

  “Friday,” Max said. Saturday was the betrothal ceremony, and he’d need them finished before then.

  He snorted. “That’s going to be almost impossible to do.”

  He held the rings out for Max to take them back, but Max shook his head. “I need it done by Friday. It’s not negotiable. I’ll pay anything it takes, but it needs to be finished and it needs to be a believable replica. Can you do it, or not?”

  The forger regarded him intently, clearly wondering if he was serious and probably wondering if he was a thief. Having obviously decided that he was serious, he answered. “Yes, but it’s going to cost you twelve pieces of gold.”

  Max grinned. The forger must have thought this would be a price range way out of reach for somebody who looked like a common servant. “Done,” said Max, taking a coin purse out and putting twelve pieces of gold in the forger's palm. “I will be back at midday on Friday.”

  Then he strode out of the building, leaving the forger staring after him in absolute disbelief.

  Chapter 1

  Sarah loved the sound of her feet pounding against the sidewalk. It had a steady rhythmic beat that was almost hypnotic, and she loved the way that running always prompted her best ideas. Surrounded by the lush green North Carolina landscape, her legs kept pumping and working away the stresses and strains of the day. Her mind was free as she ran to contemplate all the big questions in her mind and her heart.

  The cool breeze brushed against her cheeks and she slipped into her favorite daydream.

  There he stood: tall, handsome, and made just for her. He was shirtless, his tan skin glistening in the North Carolina sunshine and she sped up to reach him: wanting to be in his arms, imagining the feel of his washboard abs against the palms of her hands, his warm, sunkissed skin against her own. Suddenly, the sound of a horn blaring startled her out of her daydream and she stopped dead in her tracks, pulling the earbuds out of her ears. A car shot by her, inches from her face, and she gasped. She’d stepped out into the road to cross without looking. Again! This always seemed to happen to her.

  She watched as the driver held his arm out of the window, making a rude gesture. Well! There was no need for that, she thought, still jogging in place so that she didn’t lose the endorphin rush. Her hands rested on her narrow hips and she kept them there, resisting the urge to lower herself to respond in kind to his gesture.

  When the car had driven out of sight, she continued her run towards home. Better keep my eyes and my brain on the road now, she thought. Imagine what a shame it would be if I got run over before I met the love of my life. Now that would be a tragedy. The endorphin rush that she was working for fought with the adrenaline rush from almost being killed, and by the time she reached home, she was wired.

  She collected the mail, ducked to avoid the ivy that hung over the doorway, and took off her running shoes at the door. She greeted Katie, who was lounging on the sofa watching yet another mindless show on Netflix. Sarah rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what the show was — they all rolled into one for her in the end, anyway. Real Gossip Girl Housewives of New York or some other such nonsense, she presumed.

  Sarah would really much rather read a book. If it were a history textbook, that was good. A historical romance book was perfect. She’d never seen any movie or TV show that was able to entertain her as much as her own imagination when given a good book.

  “Good run?” Katie asked, dragging her attention away from the over-the-top drama currently playing out on the television.

  “It was… until I almost got myself killed,” Sarah said breezily.

  “Again?”

  “Again.”

  “I thought running was supposed be good for you, not nearly kill you.”

  “It’s not the running that nearly kills me. It’s the daydreaming.”

  “Or, maybe, if you stopped living in your head all the time and got out there and did some dating you wouldn’t have to dream up an imaginary perfect man, would you?” teased Katie.

  “I do date,” Sarah said, “I just don’t have time to go on as many dates as you do.”

  Bored with the conversation, she moved past her housemate and went into the kitchen to grab a snack. She rolled her eyes at…?

  More content after her snack, Sarah took a long, hot shower to wash away the grime from running. The hot water massaged away the shaky feeling that still lingered after her untimely brush with death. She clipped her pale blonde hair up high on her head, pulled on her favorite comfortable jeans and a sweater, and flipped open her laptop to finish the student papers that needed grading that weekend.

  Her eyes landed on the photograph of her grandmother by the bedside table. She smiled wistfully, her mind turning to memories of her beloved grandmother. Sarah had spent a lot of time at her grandmother's home when she was a younger teenager. Sarah's parents were archaeologists,
and when they went on digs, Sarah would stay at her grandmother's cottage. She loved spending time with her grandmother because she always had fun tales of princesses and knights, castles and dungeons, and true love that defied all of the odds.

  She thought about her grandmother, who had sadly passed away the previous summer. Sarah absentmindedly twisted the ring she always wore on her right hand. It had been a gift from her grandmother, a family heirloom that had been passed down from generation to generation and was, according to her grandmother, over 400 years old. She’d told Sarah the family legend behind it. As much as she believed in love, Sarah thought the old lady was crazy and was just telling another tall tale. True love was believable. Magic rings? Not so much.

  Sarah wanted to believe that, but her grandmother had told so many tall tales that it was sometimes difficult to see where the fairytales ended and reality began. Still, she wouldn't have changed her grandmother for the world, and those amazing tall tales were a large part of exactly why she loved her so very much.

  She glanced down at the ring. It was a delicate band with intricate knotwork detail and tiny rubies dotted into the band that twinkled as she moved her hand this way and that. Her preference had always been for silver jewelry, but she never, ever took this ring off. Partly because of the sentimental connection with her grandmother and partly because wearing it just somehow felt right, like it belonged on her hand.

  In the back of her mind, she thought that maybe even if it wasn’t magical, it might be lucky and perhaps it could help her attract her one true love. The legend was that it would show its powers in the twenty-fifth year of the person it was destined for.

  She dragged her attention back to the papers that needed grading and finished them in record time. It helped that all her students seem to have fully grasped the spirit of the assignment and had all submitted excellent papers.

  Her work for the day completed, she padded downstairs in her purple fluffy slipper socks. The old cottage was sometimes a little chilly. Even in the warm weather, the thick stone kept the heat out in the summer and sealed it in during the winter.