Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

  Draven backpedaled a few feet. “No need to be a sore loser, Alaric.” His lips merely twitched, but the smirk was all in his eyes.

  Alaric gripped the bars. Though Alaric’s wrists were still chained, Evelyn had no doubt he’d try to lunge for Draven should the man come nearer.

  Evelyn rose and began to dust off her cargo pants but ended up only smearing the grime against the cloth. “So you came here to brag?”

  His smirk evaporated. “No. I came here to make you an offer, Evelyn.”

  “What kind of offer?”

  “We can leave tonight. Together.”

  “With Alaric?”

  “Without.”

  Alaric’s grip tightened on the bars.

  “Then, just as I said before, the answer is no,” she said.

  Draven rubbed his jaw. “I see… but my offer is different from theirs. If you flee with me, Evelyn, you needn’t be their puppet at all. We’d be free.”

  “And Alaric wouldn’t. I’m not going to change my answer, Draven.” She tilted her head, strands from her messy ponytail brushing her shoulder. “Why are you offering to help me? You’re with my fath”—she cleared her throat—“Sephtis.”

  Draven began to approach the bars, only to stop when Alaric pinned him with a glare. “Evelyn, I don’t care. For you, I’d give up anything,” Draven said.

  She shook her head, though it made her heart ache to deny him. “I love Alaric.”

  “I understand.”

  “You do?” So all this pleading, and then that was it? He’d just accept her decision?

  “Indeed. But I had to extend the offer and at least try to change your mind. Also, Sephtis has summoned you to his quarters.”

  Wait—what? Evelyn squinted. Had Draven truly been offering her an escape? Or was that some sort of test?

  Alaric’s nostrils flared. “She’s not coming within twenty scevola of that demon.”

  Draven’s lips twisted. “Luckily for you, he said that should you insist on coming, I’m to allow it. But first, step back from the bars.”

  Alaric’s smile sent a chill down her spine. “Afraid, Draven?”

  “Merely cautious. Now, step back.”

  Alaric didn’t move.

  Evelyn darted to his side and set her hand on his tensed forearm. “Maybe we can negotiate with Sephtis, Alaric. We should at least see what he wants.”

  Draven shot her a warm smile. “Precisely. Thank you, Evelyn.”

  Alaric’s eyes slitted, but he released the bars and stepped back.

  Draven unlocked the cell with a key and stepped aside, dagger dangling loosely at his fingertips. “Both of you will walk ahead of me.”

  Alaric exited first, and Evelyn followed, casting his dagger a wary glance.

  “It’s a precaution,” Draven said. “Not for you, of course.”

  Alaric leveled a glare at him. “Unless you should step out of line, in which case, he won’t hesitate to use it.”

  Draven gestured with the dagger. “Begin walking. Turn when I instruct you to do so.”

  Their footsteps clacked down the passage, like a smattering of unenthusiastic applause. They turned right, then left. Alaric had nudged her ahead of him, placing himself between her and Draven. She peered at them over her shoulder.

  From time to time, Alaric glanced back at Draven. With each look, Draven grew tenser and tenser. What was Alaric planning? His hands were chained, and Draven had a dagger.

  They rounded a bend, and Alaric flattened his back against the wall. And that was when he struck.

  As Draven turned the corner, Alaric lunged at him. They both fell to the floor, the dagger skittering from Draven’s grasp. Draven’s fist flew through the air, and the punch snapped Alaric’s head backward.

  Alaric clenched his jaw and pressed the chain links between his wrists to Draven’s neck, the metal digging into his exposed skin, and Draven stilled.

  Alaric sat upright, straddling both Draven’s arms and waist between his thighs. “You’re going to show us the way out or I’ll kill you here.”

  Draven’s chest heaved beneath Alaric. “Not possible.”

  “Then make it possible.”

  Draven shook his head, even as Alaric increased the pressure on his throat. “I can’t simply tell you. The passages constantly shift and move. It’s an ever-changing maze, and it’s far too complicated—”

  “You’re not going to merely tell us the way out. You’re going to personally escort us.”

  “And what will you do with me after?”

  Evelyn stepped forward. “We could release him—”

  “Whatever needs to be done,” Alaric replied. “You are a traitor, after all, and as king, I’m free to dispense justice as I see fit.”

  “Alaric!” Surely he wouldn’t resort to hurting or killing Draven.

  Draven spat, and a wad of saliva dripped down Alaric’s cheeks. “You deserve death for all that you’ve stolen from me, and if I must die to ensure that happens, then so be it.”

  “I’ve stolen nothing from you.” Alaric scraped his wet cheek against the sleeve of his shoulder. “You’ve attempted to steal my life, my crown, and my queen.”

  “Only because of what you first stole from me.”

  Confusion twisted Alaric’s brows. “What did I steal?”

  “My family.” Draven bucked beneath Alaric. Though he was taller, Alaric’s mass kept him pinned. “You deserve everything that’s coming to you.”

  What had Alaric done to steal his family? Had Draven’s parents been criminals sentenced to death or prison? He’d mentioned his mother had been poisoned… Was he accusing Alaric of poisoning his mother?

  Evelyn stepped closer to the pair. Draven’s green eyes found hers, and her breath caught. Though the similarities weren’t obvious, they were there. “You’re related to Alaric. Brothers?”

  Draven’s nose crinkled. “Half-brothers. We share the same father.”

  “King Vulcan?” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “King Vulcan had a mistress before marrying the Queen. Your mother was his mistress.”

  “But she deserved to be queen, and I deserved to be his son.” Sadness flickered in Draven’s gaze, but it soon melted into something darker. “Before you kill me, Your Highness, I’d have you know what befell your parents.”

  Alaric’s jaw muscles flexed.

  “Your mother begged for mercy. She was so pitiful her cries would have shamed you. Your father did little better, whimpering like a little child.”

  Alaric brought the chain down hard on Draven’s neck, causing him to gasp and sputter. “You killed them!”

  “Alaric, stop!” Evelyn barreled into his side, knocking him off of Draven.

  Alaric snarled at her. “Stay out of this.”

  Draven had gained his feet, raising his fists.

  Alaric whirled to face him and lunged forward, swinging both of his fists together like a hammer. Draven raised his forearms, but he was no match for Alaric’s strength. Draven crashed down to the floor, and Alaric was on top of him, arms raised as he prepared to batter Draven with his bound fists.

  Alaric was going to kill him.

  Evelyn darted forward. This had to stop. She wasn’t quite sure what happened next, only that she’d gotten close enough to see the corded muscles in Alaric’s arms and the whites of Draven’s eyes.

  And then everything went dark with pain.

  “Don’t come nearer.” Alaric’s voice was charged with anger.

  “Or what? You’ll pummel me again?” Draven snorted. “And what harm would I do? You’re the one that hurt her, dragon spawn.”

  A pair of warm arms tightened around her, and the movement shifted her head. Pain shafted through her skull, making her gasp trickle out as a whimper.

  Calloused fingers brushed her forehead. “Evelyn?” Alaric murmured.

  She cracked her eyelids open. It felt like there was an evil dwarf with a jackhammer inside her head. Alaric’s emerald eyes filled her vision.

&n
bsp; “What happened?” Even speaking made her temples throb with pain.

  Draven edged closer. “He—”

  Alaric shot him a scathing glare before his gaze returned to her. “Draven and I were fighting. You came too close to us, and I…” He glanced down, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

  Evelyn probed her head and winced as pain drilled against her skull. “Hit me?”

  He nodded, his gaze still downcast. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I didn’t mean—”

  She brushed her fingers against his lips, warmth filling her when his breath hitched. “It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean to—but I don’t want you to hurt Draven.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I care for him.”

  He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “Do you, now?”

  She pushed out of his arms and slapped a palm against the wall to steady herself as she straightened. “Look, Alaric, in the past few days, I’ve been willing to give up everything for you, and I don’t want to hear it. I love you, but I can care about whomever I choose to.”

  Draven smirked until she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Now, let’s pay Lord Sephtis a visit.”

  Alaric’s expression twisted in confusion. “Why? I could subdue Draven—without hurting him—and we could escape.”

  Draven skittered back a few steps. “Wrong. As I stated before I was so rudely interrupted, there’s machinery that’s constantly moving the passages and changing the escape routes. Bargaining with Sephtis would be your best opportunity for escape, since he’s a member of the Scorpio Council.”

  Alaric hadn’t uttered a word the rest of the way. He’d been as quiet and subdued as one would expect a prisoner to be.

  She sincerely hoped Sephtis was in a mood to bargain with them for their freedom. Otherwise, she’d sentenced herself and Alaric to re-imprisonment at best.

  They slowed at a dead end, and Draven gestured to the stone wall. “He’s in there.”

  It was too late to change her mind now. “Where?”

  Draven pressed a stone, and it sank into the wall before the wall parted, revealing a blood red room.

  The maroon ceilings arched above her. At the arch’s zenith, a golden chain cascaded toward the ground before ending in a flare of crystal and light—a Lux chandelier. Curls of gold snaked up the walls. For some reason, the room felt vaguely familiar. In the far corner, a man cloaked in black sat on a throne of red velvet and dark brown wood.

  Sephtis.

  She stepped more fully into the room and realized why it was familiar: it was the same layout as his study on Earth. Something thudded behind them, and Evelyn whirled around to see the passage entrance had closed behind Draven.

  Alaric pressed closer to her, his side brushing against hers, and he spoke in a low tone, “I don’t like this. Sephtis has everything. What else could he possibly want from us?”

  Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know, but this is our best chance at escape. We can at least speak with him.”

  Sephtis cleared his throat. “I’m waiting.”

  Evelyn glanced once more at Alaric before they both approached Sephtis.

  Seven golden goblets sat on the desk. On the other side of his desk, there were two chairs.

  Sephtis’ fingers were steepled. “Aren’t you going to take a seat?”

  Her gaze skimmed the rest of the room. A vast red and gold bed hugged another corner of the room. Bookshelves lined one wall. There was another desk, a screen for changing, and a few chests. No doors.

  She turned to study the entrance she’d just come from. It was actually a panel of the wall. The lower half of the walls in Sephtis’ room were lined with panels. How many of these panels were actually doorways into other passages?

  “Clever, isn’t it?” Sephtis said. “Now if you’re quite done, please have a seat.”

  She turned back, squaring her shoulders. “You’ve poisoned me, captured me, and tortured my husband. Why should I cooperate?”

  “Because I have a proposition for you, a way for you to earn your freedom.”

  She shared a glance with Alaric. To think she hadn’t even had to negotiate for their freedom—he’d simply offered it. But there had to be a catch. “And Alaric’s?”

  “And Alaric’s.”

  “So you’ll release us?”

  “Of course. All you need to do is win a simple game.” He waved a hand toward the goblets. “Come. Sit.”

  Alaric pulled out Evelyn’s seat, his hands still bound. Once she was seated, he lowered himself into the second chair.

  Each of the golden goblets on the table was filled with a different color of liquid: pitch black, blood red, sunset orange, dark purple, emerald green, teal, and royal blue.

  She glanced up at him, stomach twisting. “How do you play?”

  “Three of these goblets are safe to drink, three of them are mildly poisoned, and one is tainted with a deadly poison.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I have all the antidotes right here.” He dropped a leather sack onto the table, and something clinked inside. “Choose a safe goblet, and you get to ask any question you so desire, so long as it doesn’t involve an escape route. Choose a mildly poisoned goblet, and I’ll ask any question I want—after administering the antidote, of course.”

  “But what does this have to do with gaining our freedom?”

  He tsked. “Patience. I was getting to that. If you manage to drink six of the goblets without consuming the deadliest of the poisons, freedom is yours. The least you’ll gain from this game is answers, and the most is your freedom.”

  “How will I know the difference between the mild and deadly poison?”

  His sea-blue eyes glittered. “You’ll know.”

  Alaric set his chained hands on the table, his fingers brushing the edge of a golden goblet. “But what’s the catch? You have so much to lose by playing this, especially if you end up releasing us… unless this game is rigged, and two of these goblets contain a deadly poison. In which case, it would be impossible for us to gain our freedom. How do we know we can trust you?”

  Sephtis flashed them a smile. “You don’t, but what option do you really have?”

  He had a point. “All right, then. I’ll play,” she said.

  Alaric glanced at her. “I’ll play as well, but I’d like to drink the first goblet.”

  Sephtis spread his hands as he gestured toward the drinks. “Be my guest.”

  Alaric wrapped his hand around the golden stem of a goblet cupping a deep purple liquid. He sniffed at it before taking a drink.

  Evelyn froze, preparing to dive after Sephtis’ collection of antidotes.

  After a few seconds, Alaric set the goblet down, making it clank against the table. “I take it that one wasn’t poisoned.”

  “Obviously.” Septhis leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table. “Now ask your first question.”

  Alaric shoved the goblet back into line with the others. “What was your plan to gain control of the kingdom?”

  Sephtis twisted the stem of a goblet, so it caught light from the chandelier. “Evelyn wasn’t supposed to be your bride. I’d helped elevate Draven to a public official for the sole purpose of selecting Kimberly as your bride. I’d been planning this for a few decades. It had started with convincing King Vulcan, your father, to legislate a law requiring you to marry a Hybrid. When Evelyn was taken instead, it was all quite inconvenient.”

  But how had he convinced King Vulcan to make that law? Had King Vulcan been easily persuaded to agree, given that he didn’t like Alaric? Evelyn held back her question, deciding to save it until it was her turn.

  “Initially,” Sephtis continued, “the easiest solution would have been to rid myself of Evelyn by assassination. Once she was assassinated, you would be required to marry another Hybrid to access your legislative power.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn saw how tense Alaric had become, and she set her hand on his shoulder.

&nbs
p; “Naturally, you’d choose Kimberly, since she was originally promised to you. Then we’d kill you, and Kimberly would be the remaining monarch.”

  Evelyn cleared her throat. “And Draven?” She glanced back at the man in question. “He’s an assassin, yet he did nothing to harm me… aside from betraying me and Alaric.”

  “Draven is a bit of a bleeding heart. He sympathized with you and begged me to allow him to try to lure you away instead of killing you. Knowing your fickle nature and affinity for attractive men, I thought the idea had merit.”

  Draven’s chin dipped to his chest, and Evelyn returned her gaze to Sephtis. How much of Draven’s affection had been driven by an ulterior motive?

  “If Draven could whisk you away before your Hybrid blood was verified, Alaric would still need another bride. I allowed it, but also permitted the other assassins to try what they pleased. How you disappeared wasn’t important. It only mattered that it would happen.” He gestured to the goblets. “Please, pick another. I’m rather enjoying this little game of ours.”

  Evelyn slid the blood-red one toward her, but Alaric placed his hand on top of hers.

  “Perhaps I should drink these,” he said. “I don’t want to risk you being poisoned. If you have a question, I’ll ask it for you.”

  “But I don’t want you to be poisoned either. I say we each drink three of the goblets.” Before Alaric could gainsay her, she lifted the goblet and took a sip.

  Alaric’s hand tightened on hers as he waited.

  A metallic taste flared in her mouth. Eww. Hopefully this wasn’t actually blood. At least it didn’t appear to be poi—

  Cramps knotted her stomach. It felt like her intestines were twisting into knots as agony gripped her abdomen.

  Alaric shot to his feet. “Give me the antidote. And you’d best pray that this doesn’t kill her.”

  A smirk tweaked Sephtis’ lips, his gaze fixed on her. “There’s a bowl to the left of your chair should you need to—”

  She leaned to the left, bile singeing the back of her throat, and vomited. And vomited. And vomited. This was probably similar to what Alaric had been poisoned with. Alaric held her sagging ponytail back, murmuring words of comfort.