“And... how do you feel about me?” As soon as the question was out of her lips, Mae held her breath. Her crush on Nico had persisted since the day she met him, but she had no idea how he felt in return.
“I like you. Your companionship is priceless.”
“Companionship... priceless...” Mae repeated the words with a frown. It wasn't exactly the passionate confession of love she wanted. “What about Ella? How do you feel about her?”
“I haven't thought about her in days, to be honest. I used to be smitten with her, but now she barely crosses my mind. Is that bad?”
Mae's answer was preceded by an irritated sputter of her lips. If he had any idea how she felt about him, he would know it was a ridiculous question to ask. “No! It might make you a bit fickle, but it's not bad.”
“All my life, I've had these minor infatuations,” Nico admitted. “I get really obsessed with someone or something, but it never lasts. I wish it would. For once, it would be nice to be in a real, lasting, loving relationship.”
“Uh huh.” Mae scooted closer to Nico and brushed her fingers against his. “And, uh... have you ever imagined what your perfect partner might be like?”
“Not really. You can't predict who you'll fall in love with, can you?”
“No. I suppose not,” Mae sighed. He really was clueless. He was utterly, hopelessly, painfully clueless. “Anyway, just so you know, my thirty-second birthday is coming up.”
One of Nico's eyebrows was raised by her remark. “Thirty second birthday? How do you celebrate a birthday in thirty seconds?”
Mae tilted her head toward the heavens and heaved a sigh. “I mean I'm thirty two,” Mae exclaimed. “Or... I soon will be. I'm nearly ten years older than you. Does that bother you?”
“No. Why would that bother me?” Suddenly, the carriage hit a bump in the road, knocking them out of their seats. Mae flew up, nearly landing in Nico's lap. With a blush on her cheeks, she slid back to her own personal space, and when they recovered from the jolt, Nico continued, “Like I said, age doesn't matter. Even if you were seventy, you'd still be my friend.”
“Please tell me I don't look seventy!” Mae whined, which earned her a prodding elbow from Nico.
“Of course not! Not even close! Was that a serious question?”
They arrived at the headquarters of the Baltmoor Aerial Militia at half past noon. Nico tried to reveal his identity to the guard at the door, but he was naturally skeptical, and Nico was asked to wait. Apparently, Admiral Jordan was in the middle of a meeting.
“What if he doesn't help you?” Mae whispered to Nico as they waited in the lobby. “What if he doesn't believe you're the prince? What if he's an ass?”
“I've met him before. He seemed decent, so... I can only hope.”
Nearly thirty minutes later, the mistrustful guard told them to enter. The admiral himself was much more accommodating. As soon as he saw Nico, Admiral Atticus Jordan rose from his chair and bowed. Mae liked the look of him. He was a tall, well-dressed gentleman in his fifties with impeccable posture and a low-hanging brow.
“Your Highness, it really is you!” the admiral exclaimed, extending a hand to the lost prince. “When George said the prince wanted to see me, I thought he was playing a joke on me! You're supposed to be dead, you know.”
“I've been getting that a lot.” When Nico took the man's hand, he was given the firmest handshake of his life. “It's good to see you again, sir.”
“And it's a pleasure to see you too, Your Highness! A pleasure indeed! Please... sit!” Admiral Jordan pointed at the chairs across from his desk. When Mae and Nico were seated, he asked, “Who's your lovely friend?”
“This is Mary Melissa Mae. She's been my traveling companion throughout this whole awful ordeal.”
“It's nice to meet you, sir,” Mae said with a smile. “I got to spend a few days with your daughter. She's one the nicest people I've ever met.”
At the mention of his daughter's name, the admiral's brow creased. “Lettie... poor Lettie. She's been missing for some time.”
“Oh, but I was with her not that long ago!” Mae explained. “We escaped a pirate ship together. Well... we didn't actually escape, it was more like we were... released. The last time I saw her, she was really excited to get back to Baltmoor. In fact, she was supposed to come here after we parted ways, so if she hasn't been here yet, that's a little disconcerting.”
“I haven't seen her since I sent her on her mission.” Admiral Jordan's lips sagged into a frown. “Her mother was right. Letitia wasn't ready for her captaincy.”
“With all due respect, sir, I think you're wrong,” Mae said, which got her another nudge from Nico. “Lettie's strong. She makes quick decisions and she's not afraid to follow through. I couldn't have survived those days without her.”
“Her quick decisions are the problem, Miss Mae. She behaves erratically.” The admiral's gaze dropped to the floor, as if he was ashamed. “As I said, I should have listened to her mother. I was so eager to promote her that I didn't see reason.” After a few seconds of silence, Atticus turned his attention to the prince and abruptly changed the subject. “Now... if you're here, Your Highness, that can only mean one thing. You seek the militia's help to reclaim the palace?”
“Absolutely, sir. In the past, the militia's been a powerful ally to the royal family. Unfortunately, we need some of that power again.”
“And you'll have it... if you help me.” The admiral's gaze flickered between Mae and Nico. “Help me find my daughter. Do that, and you'll have the full support of my fleet.”
“That doesn't seem fair!” Mae gasped, which got her elbowed by Nico yet again. “You're talking to the prince! You have an opportunity to help him, but you're going to send him on errands first? That's not ri--”
“Mae, hush,” Nico interrupted her. When he turned his attention back to the admiral, he tried to smooth over Mae's complaints with a smile. “I would be happy to help in any way I can, sir. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it.”
“Good. I'm glad you're more pliable than your young friend here.” The admiral suddenly rose from his chair and collected the papers that were scattered across his desk. “If you need information, talk to George. Incidentally, he's the guard standing outside. He's also Lettie's fiance, and he's been actively searching for her since the day she went missing. If you're going to find any leads, you'll get them from him.”
“Of course, sir.” Nico rose from his chair and bowed. “I'll speak to him immediately, and when we find your daughter, I look forward to your assistance.”
“And you'll have it,” the admiral promised him. “For now, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave. I'm a very busy man, and there are countless matters that require my attention, as I'm sure you understand.”
Before Mae could protest again, Nico grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the room. He knew exactly what she was thinking. The next time she spoke, her words were hardly a surprise.
“See?” Mae snorted, loud enough for the admiral to hear. “I knew it! You should have listened to me! I told you he'd be an ass!”
Thirty Five
When Thomas Harriot returned to the palace, he didn't look forward to sharing the bad news with his father. As he reported on what happened in Bordeaux, the country's self-appointed president was shaking his head most disapprovingly.
“So the town is only half-demolished,” Gareth sighed. “A job half-finished is not a job well done, Tom. I'm disappointed in you.”
“I'm sorry, sir.” When he replied, there was a lack of emotion in Tom's voice.
“We'll have to go back and finish the job, of course. But I won't be sending you. Lately, you've proven yourself to be less than capable.”
“I'm sorry, sir.”
Gareth snorted at his son's repeated apology. “I don't think you're sorry. In fact, lately, I think you're bordering on defiant. You know... while you were gone, Princess Isabella was apprehended. And that was rather interesting, since she was
supposed to be killed by you.”
Thomas tried not to react to the news of Isabella's capture. Even as his heart temporarily ceased to beat, he kept his lips as straight as possible. “Then perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Or... perhaps you lied,” Gareth corrected him. “I've given you many chances to prove yourself, son, but you disappoint me every time. I'm not sure where this leaves us.”
Tom couldn't respond, not while his thoughts were occupied by the news of Isabella's capture. His father's dismissal couldn't come quickly enough. Tom needed to see her.
“By the way, Thomas, that girl is to be executed tomorrow. This time, Princess Isabella will die. I thought you'd like to know.”
Once again, Tom tried to hide his reaction. In the calmest voice possible, he replied, “Is that so?”
“Yes. So if you have a soft spot for her, as I suspect you might, you better visit her before the day's end.”
“I don't have a soft spot for her,” Tom rejected the notion. “Now... may I be dismissed?”
“I suppose.” Gareth waved him away with a flick of his wrist. “But I should warn you... if you defy me again, your time with Eversio will be at an end. I have no place for traitors, even if the traitor is my son.”
Without another word, Tom left his father and hurried to the dungeon. A storm of thoughts and possibilities swirled in his mind. What if they hurt her? What if she was broken by her capture? What if Jackal put his hands on her?
When he entered her cell in solitary confinement, it was nearly as bad as he suspected. As soon as he saw her face, Tom's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Isabella's gaze dropped to the ground, as if she wanted to hide her face, but it was impossible to conceal the abuse that was done to her. Blue-black bruises were scattered all over her face, her lip was cracked and puffy, and her black eye covered her entire cheekbone.
“Get her out of these chains!” Tom screamed into the hallway. A guard immediately rushed in with the keys, unlocking Isabella's wrists from the manacles. She was so weak, she nearly fell into the guards open arms.
As he lowered the battered princess to the cell's icy floor, the guard asked Tom Harriot, “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“Yes. You can leave.” His eyes were narrowed as he answered the question, and when the guard left the room, Tom slammed the door behind him. As soon as they were alone, he dropped to his knees next to Isabella and stroked her swollen cheek with his thumb. “Who did this to you?” he whispered.
Isabella's lips quivered. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to make sure he was real, but she didn't know if he hated her or not. “I... don't know if I should say.”
“No... please. Tell me,” Tom begged her. “I want to make them pay.”
Isabella drew a breath and shook her head. If he knew the truth, she was sure he would change his mind. But she told him anyway. “It was your father.”
“My father?” Tom gasped. “Gareth Harriot? Are you sure?”
“I'm absolutely sure. He... he asked me questions about you. When I wouldn't answer, he beat me.”
Tom's jaw twitched uncontrollably as he tried to soak the truth into his head. A grumble rattled his throat when he tried to imagine his father's fists flying at her. “Did anyone touch you?”
“Touch me?” It took her a moment to understand what he meant. “No. Not like that.”
“Good. I'm grateful for that, at least.” Tom gently stroked her hair. From her scalp to the messy ends, his fingers sifted through her dark brown locks. “It breaks my heart to see you like this, Isabella.”
“It does?”
“Yes. Of course it does.” He pulled her closer and brought his lips to her forehead. “If I would've been here, I wouldn't have let this happen. I would've stopped it.”
“You would've stopped your father?” Isabella's eyes shimmered with disbelief. “How?”
“I would've stopped him by any means necessary. If I had to, I would've broken both of his arms. There is absolutely no way I would have allowed this. There's absolutely no way I could have stood aside and watched him do this to you. If I saw him hit you once, I would've hit him a thousand times. I can hardly stomach the thought of it!”
By the end of his speech, Isabella was in tears. She expected him to side with his father. After all, the last time she saw Tom, she had pointed a gun at him. She didn't expect him to care about her anymore, not after that.
Isabella started to wrap her arms around him, tentatively at first, because she wasn't sure he would welcome the affection. But when she felt him pulling her forward, her body crashed against his. Her sobbing face dove to Tom's shoulder, and her arms squeezed him as tightly as they could.
“I'm so sorry!” Isabella cried so hard, her entire body shook. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left. I was so stupid! I shouldn't have left you!”
“Shh... it's alright.” Despite his limited interactions with crying women, Tom tried his best to comfort her. As her tears soaked his shoulder, he continued to stroke her hair with all the tenderness he could muster. “It's alright. It'll be okay.”
“But it's not okay! You probably hate me now.”
Tom chuckled at the thought. “Does it look like I hate you? Far from it.”
“I'm going to be executed!”
“Not if I can help it. If the hallway wasn't swarming with guards, I would get you out right now. But... I'll work something out, I promise.”
“I can't let you do that.” Isabella sniffled against his neck, which was already drenched in tears. “I've gotten you into trouble with your father. If you help me again, he'll know it was you.”
“Do you think I care about him right now? My father can go to hell.”
Isabella's body shivered again, from relief more than anything. Tom didn't hate her. She'd spent countless hours worrying about his feelings, wondering if he despised her. Her relief was so great, it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.
“I'm so sorry this happened to you,” he whispered as he held her. “I would have taken a million beatings before I'd let you suffer one. I can't even begin to tell you how much this hurts me.” When she lifted her head from his shoulder, he lightly touched a bruise on her cheek. “I'm so unbelievably sorry, Isabella. I honestly can't apologize enough. And to think it was my own father who did this to you...” As he shook his head, his throat was possessed by a growl. “It makes my blood boil.”
Tom sat cross-legged on the floor and brought her head to his shoulder. He had no intention of leaving her cell any time soon.
“I guess...” Isabella began. “I guess... if I die tomorrow, at least I got to see you one last time.”
With his lips pressed against her hair, he murmured, “You're not dying tomorrow. There's no way I would let that happen.”
“You can't say that for certain. I mean... what if you try to save me, but it happens anyway? I should probably prepare myself for the worst.”
“No,” Tom insisted. “It's not going to happen. Don't even think about it.”
“I'm not even sure I want you to save me,” the princess mused. “I don't want you to get in trouble because of me.”
Isabella was still shivering, so Harriot shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. He wasn't sure if she was cold or scared, but either way, a shaky smile on her lips confirmed her appreciation of the gesture.
“Tom... did you hear me? I don't want you to get into trouble for me!”
“Isabella...” He sounded slightly exasperated. “At this point, all the trouble in the world couldn't stop me from saving you. Seeing the bruises on this beautiful face was enough to push me over the edge. I am done with my father. Finished.”
Beautiful. Her mind lingered on the word, but she didn't question it. No one had ever called her beautiful, but he sounded like he meant it.
“Tom?” As she whispered his name, Isabella sniffed against his sleeve.
“Yes?”
“I'm really glad you're here.” Isabe
lla took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “And if we get out of this together... I promise I won't leave you again.”
He brought their conjoined hands to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. “When we get out of this,” he corrected her with a smile, “I'm never letting you out of my sight.”
Thirty Six
When the carriage halted in front of Featherstone Manor, Julian climbed out and stretched. “Uuuuuaaaaahhhh!” he groaned, raised his arms over his head and danced the kinks out of his legs. “Was that a long ride or what?”
“Long. Too long. My bum hurts,” Wiggly Joe complained as he climbed out after him. “I'm gonna look for food, Cap'n.”
“Be my guest, O' Wiggly One. I'm sure you'll find food in there.” Julian pointed at the manor house, then he offered a hand to Lettie as she climbed down from the equipage. “And how are you, dearest Lettie? How are your legs holding up after that fourteen-hour ride?”
“Cramped. Exhausted,” Lettie answered with a sigh. “I don't think I've ever been happier to finally arrive somewhere.”
“Aww, but you got to spend fourteen hours with me! Deep down, didn't you enjoy it?”
“Maybe... but I also had to spend the last fourteen hours with Wiggly Joe. Don't get me wrong, I'll be forever grateful to him for saving our lives, but... you have to admit, he doesn't smell particularly pleasant. So to be trapped in a tiny space with him for hours on end...”
“Say no more, Lettie, say no more. I feel your pain.” Julian suddenly held out his arms to the manor house, as if he expected it to hug him. “But look... we're here now! And I've missed this big yellow building. It's like a lemon with doors.” Julian spun in the direction of his many airships, which were strewn across his lawn. “And there's a sight that always cheers me up!”
“And one of those airships is mine,” Lettie reminded him.
Prisoner Princess (Belles & Bullets Book 5) Page 22
