“What?” Ressa had asked, her head numb with pain.
“It’ not just your father. There are others like him. Those who went against the prince’s orders. They were all sold as cheap labor to Storm.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Ressa asked, her eyes brightening with hope.
The look and hesitation on the guard’s face had snuffed out the light in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, young miss, I can’t say for sure. Storm’s notorious for tossing weak workers and those he’s grown tired of overboard, leaving them to the mercy of the Siren Sea.”
Ressa was gradually falling towards despair until her mind lit up with an idea.
“Please, dear sir,” she begged, “help me get a secret message across to Storm.”
Ressa had penned a short note asking Storm to release her father in exchange for the most valuable possession in all of Markenia—the Red Diamond. It was a wide guess, but Ressa knew nothing mattered to a man like Storm than power and the possession of things that seemed difficult to procure.
A few days later, she had received a written response from Storm in which he brought to her awareness his side of the bargain. He would let her father live till the next blue spring moon, at which time she should have the Red Diamond delivered to him. Only then would she and her father walk free. The last sentences in his letter had etched themselves in her mind with the fierceness of fire:
You want your father. I want the diamond. If you should fail me, young miss, don't think I won't hesitate to drop your father into the ocean. After all, he would make an excellent meal for the bloodthirsty sirens of La Bruja Sea.
Knowing she had only five weeks at her disposal, Ressa had set to motion a plan, one she was following at the moment.
Ressa’s mind was plagued with thoughts and images. Every one of them was filled with ways in which the prince would fall prey to her murderous rage and desire for revenge. She was acutely aware that the prince did not care, not even as little as a speck of dust, for the women in this carriage and their families. And that fueled the intensity of her rage. She thought of what she was going to have to do with the monster of a man, and she felt a wave of nausea rise from her stomach. The sickening thoughts pelted the wall of Ressa’s mind, but with some effort, she put them away with thoughts of seeing her father again.
The ends justify the means, Ressa thought. The image of her father was transfixed in her mind like a beacon, and she drew strength and resolve from it. To see him again, Ressa was ready to do anything. Being in this carriage and running the risk of being touched by the prince was testament enough.
Calm down, Ressa, she thought, it’s just flesh. It’ll pass.
As the carriage ascended the cobbled streets that led up to the castle, Ressa ran a few projections in her mind.
Once I’m in the castle, she thought, I’ll be free and clear to sneak out of Prince Cavel’s chambers and into the castle’s treasure room.
She could see all she had to do as if she were doing it already. And then from nowhere came a thought that shattered the simplicity of what she had to do. There would be guards everywhere. Not to mention the notoriously ferocious two-headed wolves that assisted the guards in protecting the treasure room. Rather than let herself sink into despair, Ressa decided to content herself with the present. She would have to deal with the obstacles as they presented themselves.
The carriage slowed to a stop before a small tunnel at the back of the castle. The tunnel was obscured by a large iron gate.
For a moment, all was silent and dark. Then one of the footmen yelled, “Arcana!”
There was a slow grating sound as the gate slid open, revealing, as if from out of thin air, torches and guards armed with crossbows and axes.
The carriage began to move again, and the infant night was filled with the chink of armor and the knocking of hooves on the ground. The carriage stopped before a fairly large door, and the girls were ushered out the same way they had gone into the carriage, through a secret hall, and finally to the doorstep of the prince’s chambers.
The girls looked harmless and, if armed, were armed with nothing but their looks and brazen sex appeal. However, the guards of Markenian Castle did not earn their reputation for being fearsome by leaving even the smallest of pebbles unturned.
As the guards searched the girls, Ressa let her eyes roam her surroundings. She picked out a small stairway that led downwards.
Where does it go? she asked herself. Could lead to a dungeon or a treasure room.
She admitted that it would be smart of the prince to have his most treasured possession close to him, considering how heavily guarded the place was.
The guard that searched Ressa was tall, the tallest of the lot. She flinched slightly as his hands touched her where no man had touched her before. Her heart began to race as his hands traveled down to her waist.
The guard was about to lift Ressa’s skirt when the silver-haired footman she had tipped harrumphed.
Giving Ressa a reassuring nod, he exchanged a few words with the guard in low tones. After a short while, the guard sighed and pushed Ressa through the doors into the prince’s chamber and shut it behind her.
Ressa’s breath of relief was short-lived. There, lying on a huge extravagant bed, with his white shirt wide open to reveal a perfectly chiseled chest, was the man she loathed for having her father arrested. This was the first time she’d had chance to take a good look at him. His blond hair was wild and untamed. When he smiled, the dimple on the side of his cheek dug deeper. Ressa wanted so badly to remain angry with him, but she was stunned by his good looks.
“Hello, ladies,” Cavel said, greeting his guests, standing to his feet like a gentleman.
He went around taking hands and bestowing kisses on them. A few familiar faces received kisses enticingly close to their lips and a pat on their backsides. And then he caught sight of Ressa. There was a fresh glint in his eye.
You’re new, he thought as he moved towards her. And beautiful too.
Cavel doted on her. And he couldn’t be blamed. No one would choose to play with old toys while there was a new one readily available.
He hooked his arm around Ressa’s waist and pulled her to him. Ressa tried to keep from panicking. With a dashing smile, Cavel asked her, “Have we met before?”
“No, your—”
“You can forget about the titles,” Cavel said, cutting Ressa off. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ressa.”
Beads of sweat began to break on her forehead. She felt her palms go clammy and her cheeks burn red.
“Tell me, Ressa,” he asked, “have you ever been with a man before?”
Ressa’s heart was thumping, threatening to break the bones of her chest. Cavel’s question sent a chill through her body.
He mashed Ressa’s body against his and then, breathing on her ear, raked his fingers through her hair. Her lips began to tremble, and just as her crack-ridden resolve was about to crumble, two girls, jealous of the attention Ressa was receiving, pulled him away and then proceeded to fight with each other for Cavel’s attention.
Cavel folded his arms across his chest and, with a bemused smile, watched the drama unfurl. Grateful for the distraction Ressa breathed a sigh of relief. She used the window to recollect herself and bring her original plans to the forefront of her mind. She put a smile on her face and faked interest to avoid attracting any more attention.
Probably tired of the little play of words, Cavel pushed a few of the mistresses to the bed and, crawling onto the bed himself, began to expertly share kisses among them. Ressa stood mortified.
Suddenly, Cavel noticed that the new girl wasn’t in the bed with him. He looked up and saw her standing apart.
“Girls, how rude are we for not inviting our recent friend to join in the fun?” he asked, turning towards Ressa with an outstretched hand.
Ressa took reluctant steps towards him before placing her hand on his open palm. Then she looked into his eyes
and was riveted. They were blue and shone with a gleeful invitation. Ressa felt all her reservations flee under the affirmation that he was indeed handsome. However, there was another part of her reminding her that the enemy could take on a variety of faces.
Cavel had already begun to pull her in when there was a massive bang.
Chapter Two
Silence reigned over Cavel’s chambers as all eyes were on the violently opened chamber doors. King Alvert walked in on the support of a gnarled cane, assisted by the same silver-haired footman who had assisted Ressa earlier. Two nurses followed behind them along with a squad of guards who stood ready by the door and a white-horned two-headed wolf that bared its teeth.
The look of anger on the king’s sickly face was obvious.
“I want these women arrested,” he ordered.
Swiftly, and with blank faces, the guards swooped in on Cavel’s bed like bees and grasped the women firmly. Overcome by fear, the ladies screamed but dared not resist. Overwhelmed by the failure of her mission, Ressa struggled against the hold of the guard who wrapped his arm around her neck, his scared hand grabbing her chin.
King Alvert’s voice was feeble, yet it held traces of its thunderous quality years before his sickness.
“I’ve warned you a million times about your trysts, Cavel,” he said. “It’s time to quit these erotic escapades. You’re a prince and it’s time you started acting like one.”
The force of his rebuke elicited a protracted cough from him. The nurses rushed to his side, but he gestured for them to stay put.
“You’re my only son, Cavel. You’ve got to change your ways. It’s time you grow up and become a man.”
“Father, if you haven’t noticed, I am a man,” Cavel said, gesturing to his entire body, forcing giggles from his blushing mistresses.
“The man I’ve always wanted you to be,” the king said. “If you keep up with this behavior of yours, I’ll have no choice but to leave the kingdom to the next of kin.”
Cavel rolled his eyes.
“And who might that be, Father?” he asked, a hint of derision in his voice. “You have no other heir,” he teased.
“No? What about your cousin, Ezra?” the king stated, his face stern.
“Ezra Thorn, your beloved adoptee. Surely you jest, Father,” Cavel replied.
“I assure you, my son, this is no jest. I have given this a lot of thought and Ezra would make a fine king.”
“King?” Cavel said, jumping to his feet. “You would give away my kingdom?”
“It is my kingdom, Son, and it will remain so until my dying breath.”
Cavel eyed his father then laughed. “You’ve gone crazy, old man.”
“I assure you, my son, I am very sane.”
“You have always favored Ezra over me.”
“Lies,” the king said.
“Ezra isn’t fit to shine your boots and you would make him king?”
“You would say this about your own stepbrother?”
“He is my cousin, nothing more,” Cavel said.
“He is a man as noble and kind as my father was. Do not tarnish his name in front of me!” King Alvert shouted, his voice echoing across Cavel’s chambers before leaving the room in an eerie silence.
“I have decided.” King Alvert raised his hands towards his footman, who immediately produced a roll of parchment and a quill.
“It is my decree that by the next blue spring moon Prince Cavel Alvert must wed.”
“Wed? Father, this is madness—”
“If he has not wed by that time, my kingdom will belong to Ezra Thorn, my adopted son and head of my Royal Guard. You have till then, Cavel. Nothing more. ”
Cavel’s demeanor changed. The bitterness on his face was almost tangible. He did not need a mage to know that his father’s words were no empty threats.
“There’s no way I will find a bride in four weeks, Father,” he protested.
There was a glint in the king’s eyes. Then, as if he’d just struck his foot against a rock, his face brightened and creased with a smile, a sign that something was working in his mind.
“Are there no women in this room?” he said suddenly.
“What?” Cavel asked rather incredulously.
“Here, let me pick for you,” the king said.
The truth of the sudden opportunity seeping into them like water, the women in the room began to beg to be the king’s choice.
King Alvert’s eyes, having grown keen from years of hunting and one or two major battles, roved through the group of women until he settled on one that piqued his interest. She was the only one not begging. And that was because she was busy fighting against the guards’ restraining arms.
This one will surely give Cavel a run for his trouble, the king thought.
“The feisty young lady at the back,” the king said and pointed.
Now conscious of the attention she’d received, Ressa ceased struggling.
“What’s your name?” King Alvert asked.
“Ressa,” she answered. “Ressa Rose.”
“Good. Would you like to marry the handsome Prince Cavel?”
Ressa found the thought so despicable that she blurted out a loud, “No.”
Cavel winced.
King Alvert laughed until he lapsed into another coughing fit.
“I like you, already,” he said. “Such an honest answer. By the authority vested in me as king and ruler of Markenia, I hereby decree that my son, Prince Cavel, shall wed Ressa Rose in four weeks to become the next queen of Markenia.”
The suddenness of the king’s decision, and the fact that Ressa was helpless towards her fate, leached the strength and resolve out of her.
The guard quickly let her go and bowed before her. Then they escorted her towards the king.
King Alvert appraised his son’s soon-to-be bride. Tall, thin, with full blonde hair, packed and held in a bun by a ribbon.
She’s beautiful. Beautiful enough for Cavel, he thought.
He held her hand in his while his other rested on his cane.
Ressa’s heart threatened to burst out her chest. In all her plans, she had not seen this coming. Not even an inkling of it. She watched as the guards hauled the rest of the women out of the prince’s chambers. Something told her they were being taken to the dungeon. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.
“Walk with me, my dear,” the king told her.
Ressa walked silently beside the king, answering the questions he posed to her as best she could. The sorrow she felt at her predicament, the guilt of not having fulfilled her mission, and the anger she felt towards Cavel she allowed to fester deep inside her.
Immediately, she knew that new circumstances called for new plans. Her head was blank in that moment, but whatever she was going to do she knew it had to end with her aboard Slade Storm’s boat in four weeks, with the Red Diamond in her hand. She couldn’t bear to think of what would happen to her father if things turned out differently.
Ressa was beginning to build a new resolve. She knew what she had to do. She would swallow whatever anger she had towards Cavel and pretend that nothing else would make her happier than being married to a handsome prince. She could do that much. For her father.
Chapter Three
The kingdom of Markenia, as huge as it was, was sprawled on the top of a mammoth hill with a good amount of its architecture constructed delicately from stone and decorated in Markenian ore, bronze and marble. The kingdom was a beacon of beauty, proclaiming its presence to the rest of the world. Markenia was not only beautiful but unduly favored by Mother Nature. From its place atop the hill, the kingdom overlooked a dangerous sea that spread till it touched the fine line of the horizon—La Bruja. It was notorious for its nasty currents, teeth of jagged rocks that were for the most part unobtrusive until they were happened upon by an unsuspecting vessel, and bloodthirsty sirens. As such, envious kingdoms were less eager to try attacking Markenia through this route.
Markenia grew
peacefully through centuries of being under the rule of the same family of monarchs—the Alverts. Its current king, Willum Alvert, had the reputation of putting away the armies of Delway for good and plunging the people into peace; though it was a peace that was incredibly short-lived. Willum fell ill and had to relinquish some of his responsibilities to his only son and heir, Cavel.
Cavel was an odd bean compared to his father. Willum had the respect and love of his people. He had made it a habit to often walk among them and give an ear to their problems, some of which he solved by issuing a decree on the spot. After great storms, Willum was always quick to rebuild destroyed infrastructure. The throne had won the undying devotion of the people of Markenia until Cavel took control.
Willum lay on his kingly bed, wilting with every passing day, unaware of the changes his son was effecting in his kingdom. Cavel, on the other hand, went to extra lengths to ensure that word of his deeds did not reach his father’s bed. With depressing and exploitative decrees, Cavel made his distaste for the lower class transparent.
Life in the castle continued to blossom—especially now that Cavel’s wedding was very near at hand—oblivious to the poverty and the level of crime that plagued lower Markenia, which Cavel had turned into a slum.
***
With the darting swiftness of lightning, Ressa whipped her head down into the cover of stalks of grass. Her heart pulsated with the feel of having barely escaped being spotted.
“Those damned guards,” she cursed under her breath.
She lay in the cover of the vegetation surrounding the castle. The sky still bore the last traces of dawn. She had chosen this spot, among the grass and a company of trees, as a vantage point. Her lips moved wordlessly as she counted back from three to zero. Then she brought her head back up and fixed a bronze-colored spyglass to her right eye. The left corner of her lips spread, digging further into her chin, as she peered through the spyglass. She wished she was a witch. The ones from the stories her father would read her as a child. In which case, she would have had the power of the elements, and this hide-and-seek in the grass wouldn’t have been necessary. All she’d have to do was bend the air and the light to render her invisible and her work—both spying and stealing—would be done.
Rose and Thorn: Possession of The King (Book 1) (A Collection of Roses) Page 2
