Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

  “You don’t think your father would miss you?”

  If the Duke thought she didn’t have a sufficient reason to escape, perhaps he’d report his findings to the King. “As I’m sure you know, since it’s your job as the Public Relations Official to stalk the bride’s family and all—”

  His face colored. “I wasn’t stalking. I was researching.”

  “—my actual father and mother abandoned me with my, uh, sister’s father, so they could run away together.”

  He slowed to a stop. “So your real father doesn’t want you?”

  She whipped around to face him. “You don’t have to rub it in, okay?” She released her anger on a sharp huff. Her biological father had been forced to leave her for some reason—just like her mother had. Of course he wanted her. Maybe when she found her mother, she’d find him too.

  The Duke had the decency to look sheepish. “That was not my intention. I simply realized how similar we are.”

  “How so?”

  “I… was the second born. Being the second born, my father, Duke Braxton of Silva, never truly cared about me.”

  “And what about your mother? At least you have someone who wants you, right? And I was born out of an affair. You weren’t.”

  His gaze sank away from hers. “I used to have her, but I’m afraid I lost her.”

  “Lost her? How?” She peered up into his expression. To her surprise, it wasn’t sorrow he concealed; it was anger.

  Tension lined his face, and his eyes sparked like flint on steel. “Some say sickness, others say murder.”

  Whoa. First Alaric’s father. Then Draven’s mother. Were assassinations really so common among nobility?

  Draven waved his hand. “But enough about me. Let’s return to the discussion of your family.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” She stared at him long and hard. “How about let’s finish our tour instead, hmm?”

  He nodded, and together they strode down the hall.

  Who was this Duke? And what did he want from her? She cast a sideways glance at him. The only reasonable explanation was that he’d been sent by the King to learn more about her and test her trustworthiness. That would explain his prying questions.

  They rounded a corner, and windows lined the wall, giving her a glimpse into the outside world. Far below, there was a stone courtyard and wall. Outside of that was the city, then a giant stone wall, looming over the buildings like a giant tsunami preparing to crash into the grand structures.

  The sky was slathered in a creamy gray, and little dots of rain flecked the window. Suddenly, she knew of a safe conversational topic: the weather. A bit cliché, but at least it wasn’t too personal.

  “So does it always rain here? It was storming the night I got here.”

  Duke Draven shook his head. “Nearby portal-use can disturb the weather for a few days.”

  Portals. They seemed to be a big deal here, and they were probably her ticket home. “So is using a portal hard?”

  “Why?”

  “I just want to learn more about this place.”

  “Of course. But it’s not wrong to wish to return home.”

  Her gaze cut to his. She was tired of dancing around words with him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m letting you know that I don’t always agree with the King’s decisions,” he said, lowering his voice, “especially where you’re concerned.”

  “You disagree with your sovereign, so what? I don’t always agree with my government either.”

  “I’d like to help you.”

  Her steps slowed, as did his. She glanced into his green eyes, wishing she could read the thoughts and emotions that swirled behind their glassy surface. “So you’re saying you, one of the King’s personal advisors, would betray your King and your country to help me?”

  “That’s a rather harsh way to put it. I’m trying to do what’s right, Evelyn.”

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose, until pressure gathered in her forehead. If she let him know she was onto him, maybe he’d stop bothering her. She pointed at his chest. “Look, I know what you’re trying to do, okay?”

  His eyes widened, so much so that his golden lashes nearly touched his brows. He was a good actor—she’d give him that.

  “Stop spying on me and pretending to be my friend. Just go to the King and tell him everything we’ve talked about, okay? I don’t plan on escaping—now or ever.”

  She stormed away from him. When he didn’t follow, hope flared in her chest. Maybe she’d scared him away, and she’d get to explore the rest of the palace by herself.

  “Evelyn?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned. “What?”

  “If you’d like to see a map of Torva to better… orient yourself, there’s one a level below us, in the Hall of Kings. I’m afraid it doesn’t have the portal locations marked, but it may help you nonetheless.” He turned on his heel and headed back the way they’d come.

  Once he was gone from sight, Evelyn padded down the stairs into the next level, aiming to explore as much of the palace as she could while she was by herself. She thought back on her interactions with the Duke. Who was he: friend or foe? And was he genuinely trying to help her?

  9

  Warring at Dinner

  With a knife in her right hand and a spear-shaped instrument in her left, it looked like she was going to war rather than eating a meal.

  The dining room was a cozy size, a few feet wider than their table, with a painfully red carpet beneath. A chandelier, dribbling with those glowing electricity balls and crystals, hung above them.

  Evelyn resisted the urge to swing her legs back and forth. She could have done so without her feet even brushing the ground. The seat was unusually high to accommodate the large table. It seemed the furniture throughout the palace, save the pieces in her room, were built for Torvan-sized frames.

  An oval-shaped silver platter stretched between her seat and the King’s. The food on the platter was ready to be eaten, steam wafting from many of the meats and breads, but for some reason, the King had asked her to wait.

  The hinges of the door squeaked. Evelyn twisted in her seat to spot the newcomer.

  Adria, her lady-in-waiting, strode in with her spine as straight as a taut string. She seated herself to Evelyn’s right. Her expression could have been carved from ice for all the warmth it held.

  “Adria?” Was Adria their guest? Why would the King invite a lady-in-waiting to privately dine with them? Evelyn looked up at the King. “Why is Adria here?”

  “Consider her your personal poison tester.”

  She pressed a palm against her chest to contain the wild beating of her heart. “I don’t want a poison tester.”

  “After last night, I will take no more risks where you’re concerned. Our marriage is vital for the kingdom’s wellbeing, and we wouldn’t have much of a marriage if you were a corpse.”

  That would have been a lot more romantic if he hadn’t bothered elaborating with a second sentence.

  “I believe we’re ready for the meal to commence.” The King gestured to her left hand. “That’s a pike, and the other is a meal dagger. Couples generally feed each other from their platters, but in this instance, you must allow your poison tester to eat it first.”

  She poked at a lump of fruit with her pike. “What if the poison is slow-acting? Then both Adria and I would die.”

  “The food has been sampled prior to being served.” He nodded toward Adria. “She merely provides extra protection.”

  “Then why don’t you have a poison tester?”

  He paused, seeming to mull over her question. “For whatever reason, I don’t think it’s me they’re targeting. And aside from that, being half-human makes you vulnerable to many more poisons than I would be.” After a few seconds of silence, he began to slice a piece of meat.

  The King had a point, but she still hated that Adria had to risk her life in order to protect her. It wasn’t like she was going to remain a queen fo
r much longer, if everything went according to plan.

  She stifled a snort. What plan? After she’d ditched Duke Draven, she’d spent the morning searching out possible escape routes. After searching the palace and failing to find any secret passages, she’d thought about returning to the library to search for information, but after the assassination attempt last night, wandering in secluded places by herself seemed like a bad idea.

  Then she’d searched out balconies and open windows in hopes that one would be only a story or two off the ground, so she could use a makeshift rope and rappel down the side of the palace.

  But the first floor was the throne room, where commoners came and made a petition to the King. Knights guarded the entrance and had refused to allow her in.

  The second floor was mostly private rooms belonging to officials—and those had either been occupied or locked.

  The third floor was occupied by rooms for the guards—primarily bedrooms, meeting rooms, and an arena for training.

  The fourth floor was for storage, and she’d found an open window there, but it was far too high above the ground. Given that she’d have to craft a makeshift rope out of bed sheets and that she’d never been rappelling before, it would be a suicide mission.

  Her room was on the tenth floor, so escaping from there was obviously out of the question.

  After giving up on finding an escape route, she’d tried to find something that would at least aid in her escape. She’d searched for a weapon, but the armory was swarming with guards. She’d also tried to snag a maid’s dress as a disguise, but the room where they did the laundry was bustling with servants. And wherever she went, her short stature and royal clothes stuck out like a sore thumb. It seemed like everyone was watching whatever she did.

  The only way she was escaping Torva was if she had help. And the only Torvan willing to help her was Duke Draven.

  “You don’t seem to have much of an appetite,” the King said.

  Evelyn glanced at the plate. The King had already eaten several of the foreign foods. She picked up a piece of fruit and handed it to Adria. “I was just trying to think of what to eat first. It all looks so delicious.”

  With a crisp snap, Adria bit off a piece and handed it back to Evelyn.

  Evelyn ignored the skeptical rise of the King’s eyebrows and chomped off a piece. Sourness threatened to shrivel her mouth. She sucked in her lips and forced herself to chew. It felt like acid was crawling across her tongue.

  The King frowned. “If it’s not to your liking, you needn’t eat it.”

  Evelyn forced herself to swallow. She scrubbed her mouth with a napkin and shuddered at the lingering sourness. “That wasn’t ripe.”

  “It was.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t. It’s too green.”

  The King tilted his head. “It’s considered rotten and too sweet to eat when it comes into its full color.”

  So Torvans ate unripe fruit. Gross. If she was a Hybrid, shouldn’t she like Torvan food? Maybe she had human taste buds. She handed a moist piece of maroon dessert bread to Adria. After she’d tried it, Evelyn bit the corner. The bread was so acrid it seemed to bite back. She choked the tiny piece down. What was wrong with this civilization? Hadn’t they ever heard of sugar?

  Evelyn shoved back from the table, her stomach roiling. “I’m afraid I’m not very hungry right now. May I be dismissed?” She hopped down from the chair, only for the swirling in her stomach to travel to her head. It felt like someone had slathered her face in astringent, and its sharp tingling was nipping at her skin.

  She latched onto the side of her chair until the world steadied.

  The King stood from his seat. “Are you well?”

  She swung her gaze around to glare at him, and the spinning began all over again. “What do you think?” Oh, she shouldn’t have said that, but the world was swaying so violently she had a hard time bringing herself to care.

  The King lifted her from the underarms and set her back in her chair. “Were you feeling unwell earlier?”

  “A little dizzy and faint at times, but nothing overly concerning.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  When was the last time she’d eaten? The night she’d arrived in Torva, she hadn’t. On the day of her wedding, she’d nibbled a bit from the tray the fairies had brought her. This morning, she must have left with the King before her food had arrived.

  “Like a full meal?”

  The King nodded.

  She squinted, trying to think back. “I think I had a few chocolate chip granolas bars for lunch before I was taken to Torva.”

  The King glanced at their shared platter. “And you say the fruit wasn’t ripe enough?”

  “Yeah, way too sour.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. Though it felt hollow and her hands quaked with weakness, food didn’t sound appealing in the slightest. “I really don’t feel like eating tonight, actually.”

  The King huffed. “That’s unacceptable. I won’t have my queen starving herself to death.”

  “Well, at least I’ll be thinner. You like your women thinner, don’t you? You know, lither figures?” Venom seeped into her tone, and she snapped her mouth shut. But, to be fair, he had asked her if she’d seen the other Torvan women…

  The King tilted his head and examined her figure briefly. “You’re not quite as slender as Torvan women.”

  Her throat knotted. Just as she’d suspected: on Earth, she was passingly pretty, but here she was dowdy and fat. She stared at her plate, so the King couldn’t see how strongly his opinions affected her.

  “But it matters not. As my queen, I require only your existence and cooperation.” He pointed to a few foods on her platter. “You should find those palatable, and the gemen is rather sweet.” He gestured to her goblet, filled with a fizzy lavender-colored drink. A thin layer of fog floated on top of the liquid, like wispy froth. “In the future, we’ll better tailor your platter to suit your needs.”

  Well, great. He didn’t think she was attractive, but that was okay since he didn’t care. She served a purpose just by existing. Not that she cared about his opinion, since she was leaving soon anyway. She jabbed a filet with more force than necessary. She didn’t care in the slightest. Not one bit.

  She eyed the dagger in her hand. Speaking of leaving, it would be nice to have some sort of weaponry with her, but would the King become suspicious if she tried to smuggle it into her room?

  “Can I keep the silverware?”

  His gaze was already locked onto hers, as if he’d been watching her as she’d thought. Creeper. “Whatever for?”

  “When the fairies bring me a tray of food, I’d like to eat with these instead of my fingers. More sanitary, you know?”

  “I could have clean silverware brought to you when next you break your fast.”

  That’d work. And while the fairies weren’t looking, she’d hide it somewhere in the room. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  He paused for a moment, fiddled with the placement of his silverware, and glanced back up. “Alaric. I would have you call me Alaric.”

  She’d rather not, but there was no point in denying him something so trivial. “Of course, Alaric.” She shoved back from the table. “Would you mind if I turn in early tonight? I’m rather tired.”

  He straightened, scooting his chair back. “I’ll escort you. There are things I need to attend to in my quarters.”

  He edged her chair back for her before offering his arm, and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Maybe he’d attribute her sharp words to her lack of food, but even so, she’d have to be on her best behavior from this point on.

  A pair of knights trailed them all the way to her room, and the King slowed in front of her door.

  He wasn’t going to bed at the same time as her, so they could… produce an heir or something, right? Or maybe he didn’t want to produce an heir because she wasn’t attractive enough. Maybe he would secretly try to get an heir through another woman.


  The King opened her door for her. “I’ll be in my quarters should you have need of anything.”

  “Thank you.” Though he needed an heir, at least it appeared he didn’t intend to force himself on her. She stepped into her room and spun to face him. “Wait. What are we doing tomorrow?”

  “There’s a management meeting we’ll attend. Afterward, you have etiquette lessons.”

  “Who will be at the meeting?”

  “Duke Draven, Duke Strauth, and Duke Rin.”

  Good, Draven would be there. “Thanks. And another thing.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. For my behavior tonight.”

  The King nodded. “I’ll make allowances this time.” He shut her door, and his footsteps echoed down the hallway.

  She fisted her hands. Stupid, arrogant jerk. Hadn’t his mom ever taught him how to respond to an apology? But to be fair, she’d only apologized to be on better terms with the King. She was only really sorry that she hadn’t dared to utter more biting remarks. But then that’d ruin her escape. Speaking of which…

  Evelyn hurried to her vanity. She found blue-tinted paper in the top drawer, but no pencils. She set a container of black gel the fairies had used as eyeliner onto the vanity, dipped the end of a cosmetic brush in, and started writing in Torvan.

  Duke Draven,

  I have decided to accept your help.

  -E

  She blew at the paper until the eyeliner dried.

  Was she making the right decision? Would the Duke just go to the King and tattle? She folded the note and tucked it beneath her chemise. At this point, it wasn’t like she had many options. To escape her guards, she’d need inside help, and Draven was the only viable option.

  But one question remained: what so motivated the Duke that he’d agree to betray his country to help her?

  10

  A Poison Most Rare

  The Next Day

  Her note for Duke Draven was tucked down the front of her dress. Hopefully, the letters wouldn’t smear and the paper wouldn’t crumple.