by C. J. Pinard
“Stop, you silly boys. Stop this bickering right now!” She put her hands on hips and set her jaw. “This is not going to bring Zackary home. You need to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve putting you all in danger!”
They all continued to stare at her, amazed by her gall.
She lifted her chin and straightened her gown. “I couldn’t bear to lose any of you. I’m worried sick about Zack. Please send your best men after him, but none of you—and I mean none of you—are going out there after him.”
Griffin swallowed down a grin. “And are you in charge here, little lady?”
With more confidence than she felt, she pointed to her lap. “I believe I’m the only one who holds keys to the kingdom here. If you value me at all, you’ll listen to me.”
Four collective gasps rang out, five sets of wide eyes staring at her in disbelief.
Glad she’d received the expected response, she grinned in triumph and said, “Do we have a deal?”
Alexander tilted his head. “No, Mariselle. We don’t have a deal.”
She began to protest, but Griffin cut her off. “Listen, little lady. I know you’re worried about Zackary—”
“I’m worried about all of you!” she snapped.
Griffin nodded. “I understand, but we will not, under any circumstance, sit back in this big, protected castle and wait patiently for our brother to be rescued. It is our duty to bring him back safe, and to cut off the heads of those who fucking dared to kidnap a king. The vengeance is ours to deliver. Nobody else’s.”
Mariselle, feeling frustrated, replied, “I understand that, but why can’t this be done by sending your very best men to bring him back?”
Mathias tilted his head to the side and regarded her carefully, now clearly seeing how the fire in Mariselle’s soul matched the color of her hair. “Sweet Mariselle, are the lives of our”—he put up air quotes with his fingers—“very best men, less valuable than our own?”
She blinked incredulously at him. “Yes, they are. I’m sorry, boys.” She looked at all three of them, her heart breaking in her chest. “I couldn’t bear to lose any of you.” Swallowing down a sob, she breathed in deep. “I’m sorry, but please stay here where it’s safe. Please.”
Griffin shook his head. “No, milady. It is not to be. Since Zackary is not here, as the eldest, I claim domination of the castle. Tonight, Alexander and I will set off into the forest to find our brother. Mathias shall remain here to ensure there is still Rothhaven blood to rule—god forbid something happen to us—until our return.”
Verbal protests rang out throughout the solar, but Griffin raised his hand. “This is a non-issue. We ride immediately.” He looked at Alexander.
Alexander nodded, his gaze piercing Mariselle’s. He still felt a pang of love when he looked at her, but at this moment, he knew he had to be strong. “Yes, brother, let’s not waste another moment.”
“This isn’t fucking fair!” Mathias said, smacking his hand on the table.
Francis replied, “Sires, I beg you not to do this. Please do not leave the safety of the castle. We have a dozen big, strong, strapping men who are eager and willing to enter the forest to rescue King Zackary.”
Griffin grinned. “Good. They can come with us. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Mariselle looked at Mathias, then to Alexander and Griffin. With a storm in her eyes, and her brow furrowed, she pointed a finger at both of them. “If you fucking die, I will kill myself, and then come after you in the afterlife.”
After gasping at the first time they’d all heard her use profanity, all three kings, plus Lord Francis chuckled.
“Duly noted,” Griffin said, trying to hide his smile.
Chapter 8
The ropes should have been easy enough to break, but Zackary just couldn’t get them loose. He even tried using his teeth to break them, but not a thread would budge.
Sighing heavily, he looked around the dank, damp dungeon he was imprisoned in. There were several cells, and he was just one of the inmates occupying them. For the past several hours, he had tried to find any weak spot he could use to break free, but there weren’t any. He hoped Serina had made it out of there and had gone for help.
His captors had said very little. He never asked them any more questions after they’d forced him into that carriage and had brought him here. He had, however, overheard their conversations, and had surmised that they had captured him for ransom purposes. The fact that they had come upon royalty had been a surprise to them, that much he knew. Sure, the carriage had been a little more fancy than the average coach, which must have been their clue, but to have scored such a prize had been pure, dumb luck.
He thought back to Lord Francis, and how he had briefed him weeks ago about a band of thieves who’d been prowling around the forest. At the time, Zackary had not thought much of it, just had sent the sheriff to investigate. When the Sheriff had come back with no further information, Zackary had thought maybe it had been false information by paranoid townsfolk, and had dismissed the notion.
But now… he knew it hadn’t been false at all. The information given to him by the source had been accurate, down to their green tunics and the black masks covering the top half of their faces. The only thing King Zackary knew about his captors was that the one who’d accosted him with the arrow to his chest had eyes the color of leaves in the fall, their yellowish-green color very distinct and something he would never, in his entire life, forget.
The thieves had also disarmed him once he was brought to this place. Zackary honestly had no idea where he was, as, after being put into the carriage, they had blindfolded him. Once he reached his current location, they had stripped him of all his clothing, and that included the knife he kept in his boot.
“Oh, lookie. What do we ‘ave here?” one had taunted, his voice the only thing Zackary remembered as he’d still been blindfolded.
“Looks like the king’s a bit feckin’ paranoid,” the other responded, Zackary immediately recognizing an Irish accent.
A blinding shot of pain shot through Zackary as the same voice laughed when he sliced through Zackary’s right Achillies’ tendon. He screamed in agony as he felt the hot, sticky blood drip down his heel to the back of his foot.
“You’re gonna die for that,” Zackary gritted out.
The Irishman laughed. “In your feckin’ dreams, you pussy prince.”
Zackary wasn’t a prince; he was a king. Knowing correcting the jackass wasn’t in his best interest, he held his tongue. One day soon… that arsehole would pay for what he’d done. Until then, he’d bide his time. He tore a piece from the ragged shirt they’d given him to wear, and wrapped it around his ankle to stem the flow of blood.
And as he sat in his dank cell, the sounds of other prisoners crying out, the scurrying of rats’ feet on the hard, dirty floor echoing in his ears, he racked his brain for a way to escape and exact his revenge against the lowly thieves who had captured him and the others imprisoned in the moist, dreary prison in which he now found himself.
“Please,” she whimpered, grabbing Alexander’s sleeve and peering up into his crystal-blue eyes. “Please stay here. I love you, Alex. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
Alexander Rothhaven’s heart twisted in his chest. As he stared down at the sweet redhead, he almost caved. He damn near threw off his cloak and tossed his sword to the side to stay at the Castle West Haven just to be with her. But… with his authority as a royal, and his love for his brother Zackary, he knew he couldn’t stay.
With a deep breath, he gripped Mariselle by both arms and looked down into her pleading, desperate green eyes. “Sweet, beautiful Mariselle. I will come back to you.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss that had her toes curling against the harsh ground outside the castle. “I promise.”
With her knickers growing wet—a direct contradiction to the pain and panic in her heart at watching Griffin and Alexander preparing to leave in the coach—she s
teadied her resolve and nodded. With her pale hand on his scruffy cheek, she looked up into Alexander’s eyes. “I’m going to hold you to that. Your Majesty.”
He grinned at her sass. “Good.”
Dragging herself reluctantly away from her beloved Alex, she went around the coach and found the door open, a very somber Griffin staring off into space. She placed a warm hand on his arm. “Griff.”
He turned his attention to her, the stress lines in his face softening out. “Mariselle. You should be inside.”
She shook her head in defiance and used the step to climb into the coach. Without waiting for permission, she clambered into Griffin’s lap and straddled him. He gasped in pleasant surprise, and with his silver-blue eyes, he stared at her. “Mariselle, I don’t think—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “Shh, my king. Just listen to me, all right?”
He nodded very slowly, never breaking eye contact.
Mariselle leaned down and spoke into his left ear, away from all the prying eyes and ears inside and outside the carriage. “Don’t die. Don’t you dare die! Do you hear me? I love you, Griffin Rothhaven.” She leaned in even closer to his ear and spoke in nothing but a whisper. “You were my first and I want you to be my last. I’m going to have your babies. I need you to make love to me again. I want your seed bursting inside me so we can make more Rothhavens. Come back to me. I need you. When you get back, my body is yours.”
Flushed with excitement, sweat beading on his brow, and with his cock so hard it could cut diamonds, Griffin just simply nodded and promised her he’d return. Mariselle hopped off him, exited the coach with a wink, and closed the door.
He heaved out a breath, chanced a glance at Alexander, whose eyes reflected the same lust and stress as his, and instructed the carriage driver, Morris, to take them deep into the forest.
The acting had been taxing on Mariselle. She had meant what she’d said to both brothers; she did, in fact, love them both, but she’d felt she’d laid it on a little thick. But, she had to ensure they understood how much she needed them. It was horrible enough that Zackary was missing. The thought of that alone made her want to sob into the pillow until she fell asleep. But to lose Griffin and Alexander, too? That would be far too much for her tender heart to bear. So she’d had to make sure the kings understood how serious she was. And in her short time since losing her virginity, and all the sex she’d had, she had learned quickly that men responded to sexual innuendos and uncensored sexy talk.
With a heavy sigh, she flopped herself onto the massive bed in her room and slung her arm over her eyes. She heard her door open, but was in no mood for her handmaidens. Serina and Shawna were amazing, but with her sour attitude and the fact that she could feel her menses coming, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. On a breath, she groaned, “Please leave me.”
“If that’s what you want, Mari,” came a silky, deep male voice.
Mariselle’s eyes popped open as she looked to the doorway of her chambers.
She sat bolt upright and licked her lips. “Mathias. I’m sorry, sire. I didn’t realize it was you.”
Mathias chuckled and made his way to her bed. He sat down and gazed at her beauty. “Mariselle?”
She nodded and looked around the room. “Yes?”
“Don’t ever”—he used his fingers to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes—“and I do mean ever, call me sire. Do you understand?”
She breathed in hard and nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
“Now,” he said, lifting himself off her bed, as the mere sight of her on it was making his cock stiffen. “Let’s set some ground rules.”
This secretly excited her. “And what are those?”
Mathias had a million things he wanted to say to her, but instead he replied, “Just… be a friend to me. You understand?”
Mariselle’s eyes widened. So, there were none of these Rothhaven brothers who weren’t bossy alpha males?
“Um, okay?” she replied, swallowing down her stress. “That’s all you want to be is friends?”
He grinned as his gaze roamed the length of her body then back to her eyes. “No, but it’s probably not a good time for us to be anything but friends.”
She nodded and looked out the window, seemingly distracted. “You’re right.”
“What is it, sweet Mariselle?” he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m worried about Zackary.”
He pulled her in for a hug, and she rested her face against his firm chest. “I am, too. We all are. My brothers will bring him back. They’ve taken their most brave and strongest knights with them.”
“I know,” she murmured, loving the feeling of his protective arms and hard chest against her.
He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. Brushing a stray curl from her forehead, he said, “Don’t fret, okay? I will be here to look after you. I promised my brothers I would, and I meant it when I said you would be my only priority.”
“That’s the only reason? Because your brothers told you to?” she challenged him.
He shook his head immediately. “No. I want to, is the first reason. I just wanted you to know that I keep my promises.”
“But… don’t you have a kingdom to run? I mean, aside from your own at the South Haven, you’re sort of in charge at this one for now, aren’t you?”
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Eh, sort of. I’m sure Lord Francis has everything under control. I gave him free reign, he just has to run everything by me first. But I trust him, as does Zackary.”
Mariselle thought about how Alexander had given his own sire, Lord Henry, so much power over the servants of Castle North Haven, and cringed at the memories of his mistreatment of them. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, Mat. I have seen what happens when some of these lords get too much power.”
Mathias measured her with an amused stare. “Such as?”
She bit her lip and contemplated telling him about it. He didn’t want to embarrass Alexander, but then again, it really hadn’t been his fault. She figured Mathias probably already knew, anyway. So, she took a deep breath and launched into the story about how he’d abused the staff there.
When she was done, Mathias was staring at her in horror. “Surely ye jest?”
She shook her head and pierced him with a stony stare. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Heavens, that’s horrible. What happened to Lord Henry?”
“I was told he was ‘taken care of’, but I wasn’t sure what that meant.” She cringed.
Mathias nodded. “Hanged, probably.”
“Ugh, I didn’t need to know that.” She got up from the bed and walked to her dressing table. She picked up a brush and began combing through her tangles.
Mathias watched her carefully, and wished things were different so he could pursue her on a romantic level. He knew affairs with the country were in dire straits, and that everyone seemed to be hinging all their bets on Mariselle breaking the curse, but he couldn’t help his attraction to her. And as he watched her slowly brushing out her hair, he thought he’d caught some sadness in her eyes in the reflection of the looking glass she was using. He wondered how much pressure this whole thing had been putting on the sweet 18-year-old, and thought it must have been very hard for her to be carrying such a burden.
He got up from the bed, went over to her dressing table, and crouched down. Looking at her reflection, he placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her. “Everything is going to be all right, Mariselle. I hope you know that.”
Looking as though she was going to well up with tears, she simply nodded and swallowed hard. “I hope you’re right. I’m afraid for your brothers, and I’m afraid for the whole of Syracuse. These are trying times, for sure.”
He got up, kissed the top of her head, squeezed her shoulder, and walked out of her chambers, quietly closing the door behind him.
Chapter 9
A plate with a piece of stale, crusty bread and some ve
ry questionable-looking meat was shoved through a hole in the door of his cell. A chalice of murky water was also passed through it by a boy who looked no older than a malnourished teen. He avoided eye contact with Zackary as he stared through the slot. The boy scurried off once his duty had been completed.
After he’d gone, Zackary hobbled over to the plate and quickly devoured the food. He knew he may get sick, but he’d calculated that an entire day had passed since he’d been imprisoned, and he was starving. His throat was parched and he quickly downed the disgusting liquid.
“The food is abhorrent, but they won’t be poisonin’ ye,” came a voice from the next cell over.
Zackary froze as he went to sit on the hard, dirty floor of his cell. “I wasn’t aware I had a lodger. What’s your name, mate?”
“Marcus Langer. You?”
Zackary’s eyes widened, and he clamped his hand over his mouth to keep Marcus from hearing him gasp. How had Mariselle’s father ended up in such a dreadful place? “Oh, you can call me Zack.”
“Nice to meet ya.”
He took a deep breath. “How long you been here, Marcus?”
It took him a few long seconds to answer, but he eventually replied, “Been tryin’ to keep track. About two days, give or take.”
Zackary walked over to his cell door and looked out of the slot again. He couldn’t see too well, but it didn’t seem there was anyone around. So he said, “How did you get here?”
“I was taking a trip to the Castle to visit my daughter. I have not seen her in many months. But then this band of thieving fools accosted me and brought me here. They feed me, but they have yet to tell me why I’m here or what they want from me.”
This made Zackary extremely angry. He could only imagine how happy his sweet Mariselle would have been to see her father. “Your daughter lives in the royal palace?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Handmaiden?” he asked, wondering what he would say to that.
