Punished by the Prince

by Penelope Bloom

  The door shakes on its hinges like it was hit with a battering ram. I hear voices outside now. Urgent, raised voices. I rush toward the back room just as gunshots ring out. I look back to see splinters exploding from the door as holes open up near the hinges. Dirk fires back into the closed door, squinting against the debris flying his way.

  I close the door, pressing my back against the wood and squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh God,” I whisper. “Please be okay, Roark. Please be okay.”

  More gunshots explode out from the other room. It’s impossible to guess what’s going on, except that I know Dirk is alive so long as I still hear guns firing. There’s a brief pause in the shooting and my heart lurches because I know what silence will mean. But then I hear more shooting, this time it’s less frequent though. There’s one more quick round of firing and I hear a loud thump near the door I’m hiding behind.

  No more shooting. I listen closely and hear footsteps. The room I’m in has no windows. No way out. Not even anything I could conceivably use as a weapon. I remember the way they shot through the other door to get through and quickly move away from the door to slide under the bed and lie flat on my stomach.

  More gunfire rings out. I see shards of wood spiral and slide across the floor as I lay beneath the bed, trying to control my breathing. I think again to Roark’s slow, confident, and steady breaths, closing my eyes and thinking of him to slow my breathing until it’s not so loud. I watch three men’s boots as they step into the room and surround the bed.

  My heart pounds against the floor. They know I’m under here. It’s only a matter of--

  A face appears in the narrow space between the bottom of the bed and the floor. The man sneers. “Found you, little princess.” I try to squirm away, but it’s useless. There’s a man on the other side of the bed too.

  One of them grips my ankle and yanks on me, tugging me half-way out from under the bed. I claw and struggle to get back under, even if I’m only fighting for moments of freedom at this point. Another hand clamps down around my wrist, pulling me all the way out from under the bed. I’m lifted like a sack of garbage between the two men, one with my ankles and one with my wrists. My dress hikes up to my hips as they carry me and I uselessly try to cover myself, struggling to free my hands to stop these men from gawking at me.

  “I see why the princes are fighting over her,” laughs one of the men.

  “Think Titus would know if we had a little fun with her before we deliver her?” asks the man who walks behind the two holding me.

  “Course he would,” says the man holding my wrists. “He’d cut off your cock and serve it to his fucking dogs, too. And that’s if you were lucky.”

  I try again to fight free, but the man holding my wrists motions for the guard at my legs to let me down.

  “She can walk, Mathis. Put her down.”

  I straighten my dress, fighting back tears of humiliation and anger. I get a better look at the guard who had me put down now and see he’s older than I would’ve expected, maybe in his forties with streaks of gray at his temples. He discreetly winks to me when I catch his eye. I frown in confusion, but he looks away as the other guards move to lead me out of the small bedroom.

  Dirk’s bedroom looks like a warzone. Three guards are dead around the doorway, and Dirk sits slumped against the wall clutching a wound in his stomach that’s bleeding freely. “Sorry, Princess,” he groans when we emerge. “Roark’s going to fucking kill me if this wound doesn’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” I cry out as I’m pulled through the room, nearly losing the contents of my stomach when I step in a puddle of blood. All of this because of me. Because this place wasn’t enough to keep me happy, because I was too frightened to follow through with the marriage, because I wanted more.

  I let the guards lead me the rest of the way toward the royalty-only section of the palace, feeling numb.

  I’m eventually left in a round room more elegantly decorated than any I’ve seen in the palace--which is saying something. Two of the guards retreat, but the older guard with gray at his temples lingers for a moment to whisper in my ear. “My name is Kato,” he says. “I’m loyal to Prince Roark. I’ll do what I can to make sure he knows where you are, and then I’ll do anything in my power after that to get you freed. Don’t be reckless, Princess. Help is coming.”

  Before I can respond, he’s gone and the door is closed.

  I’m alone in the circular room. Even though I know it’s useless, I try the door the guards left through but find it locked tightly. I’m about to try one of the other two doors in the circular room when one opens, revealing Queen Korinthia, who wears a black gown with fabric at her shoulders that makes her look like she has the wings of a raven. I flinch back when I see her eyes. Predatory eyes lined thickly with mascara.

  “Sit,” she commands, gesturing to a small couch at my side.

  I shake my head, trying not to shiver visibly. “I’ll stand,” I say.

  Her calm face contorts in rage. She chops her hand through the air and shouts so loudly that her voice booms through my chest. “Sit!”

  I flop down onto the couch, back rigid and eyes wide.

  “You’ve been a terrible disappointment, Elizabeth,” she says, moving to a small bar at the edge of the room and pouring herself red wine in a crystal goblet. “We invested so much in you. So much time, money, and planning. All you had to do was smile, look pretty, and spread your legs when the time came. And you did all that, didn’t you? But you spread your legs for the wrong fucking prince,” she snaps, slamming the glass down and shattering it on the floor.

  I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “It’s no matter,” she says, suddenly calm again. She moves to the bar and pours herself another drink like she didn’t just smash her previous glass on the ground. “We’re going to fix this mess you’ve created. Perhaps we should thank you. Without you, we would’ve had to hope our assasination of Roark never reached the public. Now we can behead him in the city square if we like, and how the crowds will cheer.” She smiles cruelly, looking out a window and cradling her wine as she imagines it. “And once you’ve borne Titus a son, you can join your lover in the afterlife.”

  “I’m never going to help you,” I say, voice trembling with anger and disgust. “I’ll kill myself before I do.”

  She gives me an unimpressed purse of her lips. “We don’t need your help. We just need a crown on your head and we need your womb. Thankfully, we can have a small wedding and well, the rest won’t be pleasant without your cooperation, but you only have yourself to blame for that.”

  “Roark is going to stop you,” I say. “He’s never going to let this happen.”

  “Roark is a capable man, yes. He will try to stop us. But that’s precisely why he will fail. We have the court of public opinion on our side, numbers on our side, and we also know his only possible move is to come after you. He has no choice but to march directly into our trap. And let me tell you a little secret, princess,” she says, leaning close enough that I can smell the wine on her breath and the stench just beneath. “Capable men die just like cowards and fools. My husband was a very capable man,” she adds with a slight quirk of her brow.

  “You killed him, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I killed him. My husband thought I was just a pretty bauble to set on his shelf. Something for his subjects to look at and feel envy. You know what he did when I told him I wanted to play a more important role in ruling the kingdom? He laughed.” She sips her wine, shaking her head. “He wasn’t laughing when I smothered his drunken ass with a pillow, though. The men of this world have always underestimated us.”

  “And making me breed a child against my will doesn’t offend your feminist agenda?” I ask.

  She sniffs. “I’m not a feminist. I want power to belong to those who deserve it. Roark thinks he deserves the crown because he was born to it. He thinks because he’s powerful and clever it should be his. He lacks the conviction to take it. Real power isn�
�t given. It’s taken. He never learned that.”

  “You surprised your husband,” I say quietly. “I think your son is going to surprise you.”

  14

  Roark

  I close the door to Dirk’s room, clenching my fists. Dead. They fucking killed him and they took my princess. I clench my fists, standing outside in the center of the only contingent of men in the city willing to die to help me. I see none of them. All I see is black.

  I close my eyes. My mother always complained that I could have been more, that I sat by while opportunity waited, letting others step up to take it from me. My brother liked to boast about how he was the better of us and I never cared enough to take him to task on it. But now? Now I can only see one thing: Elizabeth’s face. I see her waiting for me, scared and alone. I can practically feel her calling out for my help, and so help me God, I will break anything that stands in the way of getting back to her. I’ll fight for her until my fucking hands are raw and bloody, until my breath hitches and my body gives out.

  “With me!” I shout, storming through the group of thirty men who have gathered to help me.

  The sounds of heavy boots clatter behind me. I lead the men to a lesser-known pathway that leads beneath the kitchens and winds up to a bedroom in the royal quarters that used to belong to the king’s uncle. My tutors said rumors were the uncle was either paranoid or having an affair with a lesser noble. Either way, I’m sure Titus doesn’t know of it because he skipped lessons that day in favor of practicing his Blade.

  “The main contingent of guards will be waiting in the main entrance of the palace,” I call back to my men. “When we make first contact, they will come straight for us. Once they’re upon us, we’ll have no chance. But if we can detain Titus or rescue Elizabeth before that happens, we’ll have a hope of turning their hearts.”

  “You’re sure she was being held in my mother’s rooms, Kato?” I ask.

  The senior guardsman jogs to catch up with me. “Yes, sir. They could move her any minute, but I just saw her less than twenty minutes ago. She should be there”

  “Good. The hallways near the royal chambers are narrow. The doorways are even more narrow. If we can establish a position inside her rooms, we’ll be able to buy a great deal of time before their numbers overwhelm us.”

  “Yes, sir,” says Kato, who falls back into the group.

  We reach a small staircase that leads to a trap door. I punch it open, Blade drawn as I ascend into the bedroom. I swivel quickly, find the room to be empty, and motion for the men to follow me up.

  “Quiet footsteps,” I say in a hushed voice. “My mother’s room is nearby. If we can make it inside her room before we’re discovered, our chances are very good.”

  I open the door to the main hallway and peer out just in time to see a guard turn a corner in the distance and vanish from sight. “Come,” I whisper.

  Just as the last of my men have exited the room into the doorway, one of my men shouts as loudly as he can. “Traitors in the hallways! Thirty armed m--”

  My gun shudders in my hand as I squeeze the trigger. A hole opens in the man’s forehead. His knees crumple beneath him. “A fucking mole,” I growl. “One of Titus’ or my mother’s. Move!” I shout.

  Raised voices ring out through the hallway from every direction as we clamber around the corner and up the stairs toward my mother’s room. I stop short outside her door, where five men spot us, fanning out and raising their guns. I squeeze off two shots before anyone else shoots, dropping two of them before my men bring down the other three. I hear a body hit the floor behind me--one of my men down. That puts us at twenty-nine, including myself.

  “Elizabeth!” I shout. I hear nothing, though. I kick in my mother’s door, knocking it into the room and completely off the hinges. I look quickly around her waiting chamber, finding a broken glass on the ground and two closed doors. “Check them!” I shout, kicking down another door while some of my men check the other door.

  At the same time, gunfire erupts from the hallway outside. I hear my own men shouting and a scream of pain.

  “They’re on us! You three, go help them. You two, go check that room with them. Kato, with me!”

  We move into the main bedroom and I feel a chill as I look at the bed. The last time I was in this room was on the day they found my father’s body. I remember coming because I heard the servant’s screams. But I swallow down the old memories, scanning for any sign of Elizabeth. I run to check the closets and restrooms, finding nothing. “Fuck!” I shout, kicking aside a huge dresser.

  It lands hard, smashing up the wood below and to my surprise, falling straight through the floor. I frown, looking down into the broken floor, where a passageway seems to lead beneath the room. I kick aside the carpet at the foot of the bed and find a trap door. “Let’s go,” I say, motioning for Kato to follow me.

  We jump down into the corridor, landing on hard stone that muffles the sound of the gunfight raging behind us. I move quickly through the tunnel, weapon at the ready as I take every twist and turn. We reach a dead end after a short time, but I see the faint outline of light above me. I push up and meet resistance, but the ceiling moves up a fraction. Another trap door.

  “Help me,” I call to Kato, who joins me in pushing.

  We shove with all our might and a large weight shifts above us, allowing us to open the trapdoor fully now. I jump up through the opening into a room I instantly recognize. My brother’s room.

  “Prince!” calls Kato.

  I flinch back instinctively as I roll into the room, narrowly dodging the steel that slices the air just by my face.

  Titus.

  Two elite royal guards--marked by the insignias on their high collars--stand guard on the door to his guest chambers. My heart pounds when I realize what they must be guarding.

  “Give her to me,” I shout, standing up and knocking aside a furious overhead strike from Titus.

  “You fucked my bride,” he growls, spinning into another series of blows.

  I parry each, but have to step back closer and closer to the wall to avoid catching his steel in my skin. I notice Kato rising from the hatch behind Titus, but the two elite guards advance on him. He’s not so prideful that he tries to use his edge, instead he aims his gun and fires, catching one of the guards in the shoulder.

  I lose track of the fight when I realize what Titus is setting up for. He only ever advances. He pushes his opponents, fighting for ground until there’s none left to take, and when he has them jammed he makes his finishing blow. That’s his strategy--it always has been, but for the first time I’ve ever seen, he gives up ground, making a few sloppy attacks that leave him exposed for fractions of a second too long. I nearly attack out of reflex when he presents his back to me or overextends a leg, practically begging to be cut, but I wait, sensing something else.

  He’s baiting me. He wants me to lunge for him and maybe give up my balance. He wants me to think he’s so prideful that he wouldn’t bring bullets to an edged fight, but he’s planning to shoot me when I least expect it. He knows it’s the only way he can win. So I take his bait, watching the barrel of his Blade and not the edge. He pretends to lose his own balance from my attack, narrowly avoiding ten inches of steel in his belly, but falling to the ground. As he rolls down, I notice his barrel angling toward my head.

  I dodge to the side, raising my own weapon and firing. I expect to see a spray of blood as my bullet catches him in the head, but instead there’s an explosion at his hands. His gun was raised in front of his face, and my bullet must have gone straight down its barrel, blowing the weapon up from the inside.

  He screams, falling to his back and holding his bloody, trembling hands up to his face.

  “You fucking shot me,” he says, voice riddled with disbelief. “You fucking shot me. You coward.”

  I ignore him, squeezing off a round to finish the elite guard who is grappling for control over Kato’s weapon.

  “Elizabeth!” I call, kneelin
g down just long enough to knock Titus unconscious as I pass him on the way to the guest room.

  15

  Elizabeth

  “Elizabeth!” cries Roark from the other side of the door. My heart leaps. I heard the gunshots and his voice, but Queen Korinthia holds a blade up to my face and threatened to end me if I so much as made a sound.

  She must figure Titus was killed, and when she turns to me, the look on her face is pure venom. “This is your fault. You fucking whore,” she hisses.

  I see what she’s about to do a split second before it happens. Just like Roark said, she pulls her arm back to run me through with the steel of her weapon. My execution of the movement is sloppy, but I sidestep her thrust, pinning her arm to my side and adding my own flavor by punching her in the throat. I was aiming for her face, but the way her gun clatters to the ground and she gasps for air with bulging eyes makes me glad I missed.

  A second later, the door bursts open and Roark steps in, looking more handsome than should be possible. His hair is slicked to the side with sweat and his chest heaves. He looks down at his wheezing mother with contempt, but forgets her long enough to pull me into a hug so tight I think I might suffocate.

  “My princess,” he breathes. “I thought I lost you.”

  “You never will,” I whisper.

  “I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pulling back. “I won’t hit my own mother, but someone needs to.”

  “You didn’t even have to ask,” I say, slapping Korinthia as hard across the face as I possibly can. The impact stings my hand, but the way her head jerks to the side is worth the pain.

  I feel a little guilty. As much as she deserves it, it feels bad to hit someone defenseless, even if--