Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

“Then you obviously haven’t been informed of the tension permeating the Council as of late. They’re all eager to ask the King to change the laws, and they tire of waiting.”

  Alaric had mentioned in passing how upset the nobles were, though she hadn’t realized most of the controversy was over her blood. Evelyn seamed her lips. Something rang true in his words. Though Alaric might understand her refusal, the Council wouldn’t. They saw her as the Physician did: a means to an end. And if she were honest, Alaric saw her the same way too.

  “In addition, you would delay justice for the people,” the Physician continued. “As the laws currently are, many have been unfairly tried and thrown into the dungeons, due to juries composed of only nobles. Cripples and blinds are forbidden from entering court. Children aren’t granted rights until they reach majority.”

  Evelyn released a sharp breath through her clenched teeth. This man seemed rather intent on persuading her to allow him to perform the examination. “Let me guess. You’re being paid well for this examination, aren’t you?”

  “But of course.”

  She fisted her hands at her sides. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” If it helped Alaric and his people, her discomfort was a small price to pay.

  “Excellent. Now, let’s begin.”

  Evelyn bunched the thin white sheet beneath her chin and glanced at her dress, curled in a rumpled pile in the corner of the room. She wanted nothing more than to dart over to it and slip it on.

  She released a slow breath and settled back against the table. They’d already been through a variety of tests, including some embarrassing physical examinations and eating sour Torvan foods until she threw up. Surely there weren’t that many left to go.

  The Physician was still taking notes at the table, his pen scratching against the paper. She’d long since given up on trying to ask questions or talking. He seemed quite content to ignore her.

  He strode to the door, slid the latch back, and opened it. “The examination has been completed.”

  Evelyn bolted upright with a gasp, clasping the sheet to her torso. Wasn’t he supposed to let her redress before presenting his findings to the Council? Evelyn wrapped the sheet around herself and covered her legs.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Throughout the exam, he’d been incredibly inconsiderate. Especially during the physical portion, he often stared at her with a curled lip and raised eyebrows. He’d made it exceedingly obvious that he by no means found her “tempting.”

  The first Council member strode into the room. His steps stuttered to a halt as he stared at her, eyebrows high. As more Council members crowded into the room, she drew the sheet tighter around herself and glanced again at her crumpled dress. Even if she were to reach it, what would she do? Changing in front of the Council would be even more embarrassing than being dressed in a sheet.

  The Physician flipped open a leather-bound notebook and cleared his throat. “It does appear the Queen is, indeed, a Hybrid. In fact, she has enough Hybrid blood that I’d estimate she’ll live for at least another 170 years.”

  The tips of the King’s wings rose above the crowd, and the Council members parted to allow him entry into the crowded room.

  “It also appears the Queen is undressed,” the King said. His gaze ran from the top of her head to the tips of her exposed toes.

  Alaric had to rely on every shred of strength he possessed to keep his face solemn and his fists unclenched. Heat seared his lungs—as if he’d adopted not only the wings of a dragon but the fire of one as well. The examination was a necessary evil, but there was no need to further humiliate Evelyn.

  The woman in question tucked her feet beneath the sheet, her face a bright pink. Her unbound red hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, drawing the eyes of more than one man. Alaric’s jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth ached from the pressure.

  The Physician nodded. “Should one of the Council members have an objection to the following information, I will be able to perform the requested test in order to verify my results.”

  “But you’ve concluded that she’s a Hybrid.”

  The Physician’s bony shoulders lifted. “From the evidence, it does appear—”

  “Then no further testing will be required. The Queen has endured enough humiliation at my behest as is.” Alaric strode to her dress and picked it up before approaching the table she sat on. He set the dress in her arms before whipping off his cloak and wrapping it around her.

  The thick velvet folds enveloped her tiny figure, and she buried her face into the fabric.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded, his chest strangely tight. The need to protect her surged within him, flooding his limbs with warmth. He slipped one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back. “If I may?”

  At her nod, he cradled her against him and took her from the room. As he edged past Council members, he curled his wings forward to shield her from their gazes. She nestled against him, nudging her head against his chest until she found a comfortable spot to rest it. Though it was more sweet than sensual, his whole body heated in response to her movement.

  When he arrived at his room, he tucked her into his bed, drawing the covers over her bundled form. She nuzzled the pillow with a sigh, the tension finally seeping from her. She peered up at him, her expression softer and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen.

  He forced his ragged breathing to smooth. “Could I get you anything? Tea, perhaps?”

  “Tea would be lovely.”

  He nodded and walked to the kitchen himself to fetch it, ensuring it was properly heated, spiced, and sweetened. When he returned, she was asleep, though she stirred when he approached.

  Her lashes fluttered. “Is that the tea?”

  “It is.”

  She sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her delicate collarbone and soft skin. He handed her the tea, and her slender hands curled around the mug as she blew on the drink before bringing it to her pink lips. After a few sips, she nearly swayed with exhaustion, her eyelids dipping downward before jerking upward.

  She twisted to set the tea down on the nightstand, and he took the mug from her. “I have it, Evelyn.”

  She offered him a sleepy smile that made his heart kick against his ribs before she sank back down to the bed. Locks of her hair splayed over the pillows like a sunburst. Its color had gradually faded from a blood red to copper. The roots of her hair were dark blond, as she’d claimed, the subdued, rich gold of a fading sunset. For some reason, he was looking forward to seeing her hair grow out to reveal more of its original color.

  He bent down, considering her lashes curving over her cheeks, lingering over her softly parted lips. He longed to fit his mouth to hers and make the first true kiss of their marriage one she’d not soon forget. He tamped down his longing and brushed a kiss to her cheek instead.

  He’d asked much of her today, and he would ask no more. He slowly tore himself away from her side. Now that her blood had been verified, there was much work to do. Before he left, he cast one last glance at her, wishing he could join his lovely little queen in bed.

  17

  Flustering the King

  The Next Day

  She was quite sure the King had forgotten her.

  He’d been all kindness and consideration yesterday, considering how he’d carried her from the Council room before putting her to bed and bringing her warm tea. It wasn’t coffee, but the gesture had still been sweet.

  But today, he’d left even before she’d awoken, and he’d been gone since. Evelyn shoved the balcony door open, endured the chill air clawing at her gown. She’d eaten dinner, and the fairies had offered to undress her, but she’d refused. She wasn’t going to bed until Alaric came back and she had a word with him.

  She glanced back at Alaric’s room through the window. The shadows slowly crept across the floor as the sun set. She shuddered and turned back to the view. And maybe she was just a teensy bit afraid of being alone in the
dark. After all, there could be assassins anywhere.

  She waited. For an hour. She coiled her arms around her waist and squeezed hard, shivers wracking her body. Alaric was going to hear about this when he got back. If he got back.

  When her cheeks felt like sheets of ice and her fingers were practically frozen stiff on the balcony railing, she retreated into Alaric’s room.

  The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing around the empty room. Evelyn froze, peered over her shoulder. The only movement in the room was the pulsing glow of embers in the fireplace.

  There was no way an assassin could have snuck past the guards—no way whatsoever. Unless an assassin had discovered the secret passage and entered her room. And picked the lock between her room and Alaric’s room. After all, it was pretty probable that assassins were trained in lock-picking.

  Evelyn dashed across the room, lunged for the bed, and yanked the covers up to her chin. That way, if there had been an assassin beneath the bed, he wouldn’t have had time to grab her and murder her.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, hugging her knees to the chest. It seemed like only minutes had passed when the embers had sputtered to ash and darkness thickened the air.

  A floorboard creaked. A chill slithered up her arms. There were no assassins in her room; there couldn’t be. She’d been keeping watch the whole time.

  Another creak, longer in length, lower in pitch.

  A cold sweat flashed over her skin. What should she do? Confront him? Pretend she didn’t know he was there? Yeah, that was probably a good idea. Then she could surprise him and turn his dagger on him or something.

  Evelyn opened her eyes a slit, peering through her eyelashes. Whenever the assassin came for her, she would be—

  A hand yanked her from behind, causing the collar of her dress to claw at her neck. She toppled to the floor, blankets twisting around her limbs, the heavy weight of a person landing on top of her.

  Thick, meaty hands latched onto her neck, thumbs digging into the arteries on either side of her trachea. Spots danced across her vision. Dagger-sharp teeth gleamed in the night as the assassin grinned and threw his full weight into the choke. The floorboards under her groaned beneath the pressure.

  Whoa, whoa. Wait a second. Floorboards creaking? Alaric’s floors were marble.

  She bolted upright, hair streaming down her shoulders, a gasp caught in her throat. The room was dark, the fire’s embers dull, but there was no noise other than the caress of the wind against the windows.

  A dream. Just a dream.

  She glanced across the bed and found the left side as empty as when she’d fallen asleep. Hurt pricked her. Well, Alaric officially had his legislative powers now, and that was the only reason he’d wanted her in the first place, so why wouldn’t he have forgotten her? Why would he care that he’d abandoned her in a locked room all day?

  She settled back against the bed, but every time her eyes drifted shut, she’d remember the graze of a dagger against her throat or the razor net slicing through her skin like butter. Her eyelids flew open, her heart pounding.

  After the fifth time she’d nearly dozed off only to jerk awake, she tore the top sheet from the bed and dragged it with her onto the balcony. The glaring moonlight left no dark corners to hide in. This way, if an assassin did come for her, she’d see him coming.

  The waning moon, shaped like a half goblet full of white wine, drifted across the sky. Evelyn pressed her back to the marble balusters, willing the moon to move faster. She considered visiting her Room, but with assassins potentially lurking about, that wasn’t an option.

  Though she’d folded her knees to her chest, the chill air wormed its fingers beneath the blanket and siphoned away her warmth. She pressed her teeth against her fingertips, but she was so numb she couldn’t feel a thing. The cold was like a physical ache eating at her bones and burning her skin.

  The door to Alaric’s room swung open, and a silhouette filled the doorway. “Evelyn?”

  She glanced up, relief pooling in her as she recognized his voice. “Alar–r–ric. It’s ab–bout time.” She wiggled her tongue inside her mouth, hoping it would thaw.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  She forced her cold-stiffened shoulders to shrug. “Enj–joying the v–view.”

  “Let’s take you inside.” He curled his hand around hers and grimaced. “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?”

  She clenched her jaw until it ached, lest her chattering knocked some teeth out, and shrugged again.

  Alaric wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she stumbled into the room. He led her to the fireplace, seated her before it, and prodded the dead embers with a poker. “I’ll begin another fire.” His gaze darted to her shoulder, where the blanket had slipped. “You’re still clothed. Shouldn’t you be in a nightgown at this hour?”

  “I didn’t want to fall asleep until you came b–back.” The shivers slowly ebbed from her body.

  “Why?”

  She drew the blanket more tightly around herself. “I was afraid. The dark scares me. I keep on imagining that there’s an assassin somewhere.”

  “I see. I’ll ask for more wood to start the fire.” He rose and strode to the door.

  That was it? No “I’m so sorry I left you alone for the entire freaking day”? Or “Don’t worry; I’ll protect you”? Comforting was not his forte.

  The King returned with a bundle of wood in his arms. He arranged it in the fireplace, sprinkled oil over the wood, and used a candle to start the fire. He knelt by it, his eyes fixed on the soft glow of flames.

  “You’re upset,” he said.

  She snorted, ignoring the sudden tightness in her throat. “So? It’s not like you care.”

  He peered at her over his shoulder. “Do you want me to care?”

  Her defensiveness caved to vulnerability, and her gaze dipped to the floor. “I don’t know… I guess I just want to matter to someone—just one person. Kind of like how my sister mattered to my dad.”

  Alaric snapped a twig and tossed it into the flames. “How did she matter to him, exactly?”

  “Well, he was always there for her. He just held her and let her cry when her boyfriend dumped her—and threatened to send his guards after him. He never missed a single birthday party or award ceremony. And when she was little, he’d sing her to sleep to chase away the nightmares. I just wish I had someone like that.”

  “To sing you to sleep?”

  A blush heated her cheeks. Yeah, that was pretty weird: wishing someone could serenade her every night? “I know. It’s silly.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. What did he sing?”

  Ever since she’d first heard the lullaby, it had burned. It seared her memory, singed her heart, and now it smoldered at the back of her throat. She parted her lips and released it,

  “Hush, my sweet, don’t you cry. Listen to this lullaby.

  “Hush, my sweet, as night draws near. Hold my hand, I’ll be right here.

  “Hush, my sweet, close your eyes. Fall asleep and cease your cries.

  “Hush, my sweet, ’til the day is new. And never forget that I—” Tuteno. Why did this part always make her tear up?

  “Love you,” Alaric finished for her.

  She lifted her tear-rimmed eyes to meet Alaric’s.

  He glanced down at the floor, his tanned cheeks dusted in pink. “My mother sang it to me… before she left.”

  “Left?” Had his mom vanished like her own?

  “Someone murdered her, rather brutally.”

  “I’m sorry.” This made three nobles that’d been assassinated—Draven’s mom and both of Alaric’s parents. Were any of the assassination attempts connected? Would she be next? “It sounds like assassins murdering royals isn’t that uncommon.”

  “It won’t happen to you, Evelyn.” His jaw hardened, his emerald eyes turning flinty. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Your father probably thought he’d never let t
hat happen to your mother, either.”

  Alaric’s nostrils flared. Oops. Wrong thing to say. “I am not like my father. He was a cruel man, responsible for her death.”

  Her eyelids and brows rose high. “Responsible? He killed her?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did you say he was cruel?”

  His gaze swerved away from hers. “It matters not.”

  “Nuh-uh, buster. I don’t think so.” She rose to her knees, gaining a few inches on him since he was seated. “I just opened up to you. Now it’s your turn. Trust isn’t a one-way street.”

  “You trust me?”

  “I don’t know. I want to.”

  He drummed his fingers against his knee and stared into the fire for so long that she feared he wouldn’t answer. “So greatly was my father disappointed in me that he was loathe to name me heir. Unfortunately for him, my mother gave birth to no others.”

  She sat down, scooting closer. “Why was he disappointed?”

  The muscles at his temples pulsed as he clenched his jaw. “Because of these.” The tips of his wings rose and dropped.

  “Your wings?” She glanced at the scars streaking across the webbing. “Did he do this?”

  Alaric stared at the ground, something dark and haunted flickering in his eyes.

  She reached out toward him. “It’s all right. You can tell—”

  A sharp sting knifed across her cheek, and she lurched backward. He’d slapped her. With his wing. Though the welt didn’t hurt much, the intentions behind it did.

  “All right, I see how it is.” She rose to her feet, blinking furiously to hold back tears.

  Alaric gained his feet and grabbed her hand, stopping her retreat. “No. Don’t go.”

  She tugged against his grip. “If you didn’t want me to leave, why did you slap me?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—” He released her hand with a growl and turned back to the fire. “I’m not used to people touching me… to comfort me.”

  “Did someone abuse you?”