by Tara West
Pulling back his shoulders, he paced the sand-colored cobblestones, rubbing his chin and lost in thought. “I will send a pardon to the jailer.” He turned, a gleam in his eyes like a child in a pastry shop. “Would that please you?”
She jumped up, smiling as a mixture of joy and relief swept through her. “Immensely.”
“I’ll have her sent to the palace. I’m sure we can find work for her.” Crossing to her side, he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. “Perhaps you’d like to visit her.”
She was dismayed by his familiarity but didn’t show it as she breathed in the smell of cotulla flowers again. She was relieved she hadn’t worn heels; they were already eye level. His gaze was unnerving. His eyes were small and dark, reminding her of paintings of Fanfir’s beady orbs moments before he struck down a defender. But the prince was certainly no leviathan. Perhaps he even had a heart, unlike his cruel father, who made a practice of stealing children from the islands on the other side of the strait and forcing them into slavery.
“Oh, Your Highness, I would.” She clasped her hands to her heart. “You are very kind. Thank you.”
“I’ll send a carriage for you tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me....” He paused, glancing at the revelers inside. “I’m not particularly fond of banquets.”
Melandris pretended to be engrossed in a conversation, but it was clear she was surreptitiously watching the prince and Kyria through the doorway.
“Of course. It was an honor meeting you, Your Highness.” She curtseyed so low, the muscles in her legs, which were still sore from bending over shit pots, protested.
“Believe me, my beauty, the honor was all mine.” He took her hands in his once more and pressed them to his heart. “Tell me one thing before I go.” His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “Are you betrothed to anyone?”
Instead of feeling excitement and pleasure, like the time Quin had swept her into his arms, she wanted nothing more than to run. “No.”
“I find that hard to believe. Have your parents set your bride price too high?”
She tried to pull away, but he held her tighter. “I-I don’t think so.”
“I hope they have. You deserve no less than a royal crown upon your pretty head. I will be anxiously awaiting your visit tomorrow.” When he bent over and kissed her hand, her heart got all fluttery, but not as much as when Quin had kissed her. She wasn’t sure if this was attraction or nerves because the prince had openly flirted with her, perhaps even hinted at marriage. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around his words. A royal crown upon her pretty head? Was he in earnest?
His dry lips lingered on her skin for much longer than a casual kiss goodbye. Unease swept through her as he released her and walked away, his guards joining him in the banquet hall while he briefly talked to Melandris before departing. Melandris shot her a pointed look, her lips twisting from a snarl into a smile, and the dark seed in her gut sprouted into a blackened vine that entwined thorns around her heart.
What had just happened?
Great goddess! Did the prince want to marry her?
AFTER THE PRINCE AND his guards left, Kyria took a few moments to compose herself. Had she been shaking when the prince was courting her? She prayed not.
No sooner had she walked inside than Melandris marched straight toward her. Kyria abruptly changed direction, nearly stumbling into a slave carrying a tray of wine goblets. She grabbed two goblets, which sloshed on the tray, and rather than face the curious gazes of the guests, who eyed her like a prime cut of beef, she went straight to the kitchen, choosing to take the servant’s stairs to her bedchamber.
“Kyria!” Melandris called. “Wait!”
Without a backward glance, she picked up speed, spilling wine on her shoes as she ran through the kitchen, her temperature rising when blasts from the stone ovens hit her. If she hadn’t stopped to tuck a basket of bread and cheese under her arm, she would’ve made good her escape.
Melandris caught her just as she was about to make her ascent up the winding servants’ stairs, latching onto her arm with nails that dug into her like an eagle’s talons piercing a rabbit’s soft hide.
“Won’t you tell me about your meeting with the prince?” she cooed with syrupy sweetness.
“No.” She shook off the priestess’s grip. “It was private.” She glared at the priestess, who flashed a stiff smile that looked as if a dragon’s claws had slashed it into her face.
“Don’t you want to know what he asked me on his way out?” Melandris batted lashes caked in thick, black sludge.
“I don’t care,” she lied. She did, but she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“He inquired about your bride price.” There was an odd gleam in her eyes. “I believe he means to make an offer of marriage.”
She leaned against the damp stone wall for support as bile burned the back of her throat. How could she say yes when she hardly knew him? Then again he was the prince, so how could she say no?
“I hope when you are queen, you will remember who made this introduction possible.” Melandris stroked her forearm.
Kyria pulled back as if she’d been scalded. “I did.” She snarled. “He wanted to meet me because of my bravery.”
She waved away Kyria’s response. “But I held the banquet so you could meet.”
Kyria snorted. “He left early. He said he hates banquets.” She readjusted the basket of food she balanced on her hip. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go, too. I don’t like leaving Jade alone.”
“No need.” Melandris let out a laugh that sounded forced. “I’ll have her join us. Perhaps we can find her a husband tonight, too.”
“You disgust me,” she blurted, smiling when Melandris paled.
Turning her back, she took the stairs slowly, her legs growing heavy as her heart sank. What if he did want to marry her? She’d known one day an offer would come, and she’d finally have to give up her fantasies about her three Dragon Defenders. But marriage to the prince? What if he was mad, like his father? What kind of life would that be for her? Or worse, what if he discovered her heritage?
AS SOON AS SHE WAS safely inside her bedchamber, she set the food and wine on the table and slumped into a padded chair.
“How did it go?” Jade was sitting on a mountain of pillows on their bed, arms crossed, glaring at her expectantly.
Kyria needed reinforcement before answering. Her friend wouldn’t take the news well. The wine goblet was only half full after her headlong attempt to escape Melandris. She finished it off in a few gulps, thanking Jade when she climbed off the bed and refilled it from a jug she’d no doubt stolen from the banquet.
She drank another half glass before slamming the goblet down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her stomach growled, and she eyed the bread and cheese. Though she was hungry, the thought of eating made her physically ill.
Clutching the sides of the table, she steeled herself against Jade’s fury. “I think the prince wants to marry me.”
Jade turned ashen and lowered herself into a chair. “What did he say?”
Unable to stand the look of horror in her lover’s eyes, she looked away. “He inquired about my bride price and said I deserve a royal crown on my head.”
“Where is he now?”
“He left.” Kyria shrugged, pretending as if her world wasn’t about to implode. “He’s sending a carriage for me tomorrow.”
Jade grabbed Kyria’s hands, holding them like she was clutching the reins of a runaway chariot. “You can’t marry him.”
She could only maintain eye contact for half a breath, her heart shattering when she saw the devastation in Jade’s eyes. “He’s pardoning the slave girl.”
“Listen to me.” Jade’s voice cracked, her hands trembling and her palms sweating against Kyria’s. “The king is mad, and the prince is just like him.”
She felt a mixture of despair and annoyance when she saw the tears in Jade’s eyes. Didn’t she realize this was difficult enou
gh without making it harder? How was she to deal with her warring heart and Jade’s tumultuous emotions? “How do you know?”
“Trust me, Kyria.” Jade leveled her with a dark look as a solitary tear slipped over her eyelid. “I know.”
Feeling like a dam about to break under the weight of a torrential flood, she jerked free of her friend. “So what am I to do?” Jumping to her feet, she paced.
“Refuse him.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Refuse the prince?”
Jade rose on trembling legs. “Yes, please.”
Had Jade lost her mind? How was she supposed to refuse the future ruler of Delfi? “Do you realize the good I could do as a princess and eventual queen? The laws I can change!”
Jade leaned back in her chair, her mouth set in a grim line. “You will not change anything, and if the prince finds out what you are, he will kill you.”
“How do you know this?”
“Are you not listening to me?” Jade threw up her hands, and a sudden deluge of tears burst from her eyes. “He’s just like his father and his grandfather before him.”
“You don’t know the prince,” Kyria snapped, losing patience.
“I know him!” She pounded the table and one of the goblets of wine fell on its side with a clank, spilling red liquid over the white tablecloth. “Believe me, I know him.”
Chapter Five
CLUTCHING FOLDED TOWELS to her chest, Kyria leaned against the bathhouse door with a sigh. After the king and the defenders signed a truce, she’d been excited that Alexi and his brothers-in-arms had been allowed to come home on leave. She’d not seen her twin in almost a year, and fool that she was, she thought he was there to spend time with her. But no, he and his new family had gone to the brothel yet again. Mother had instructed her to equip the bathhouse with fresh linens, since the men always came back smelling of cloying perfume.
She sensed his presence as soon as she unbolted the door. He was at the far end of the room, his long, dark legs bent as he laid his head back against the lip of the iron tub, his eyes shut. Candlelight flickered in the windowless hut, casting a dull orange glow across his bare, broad chest, illuminating several thin scars crisscrossing his shoulders. Knowing it was improper to go inside, she went in anyway, tiptoeing toward the wall of shelves.
“I know you’re there, little sprite. Leave the towels and go.” Titus’s command was a low, dark rumble, like the thunderous sounds of an approaching storm.
“Back from the brothel so soon?”
His eyes, dark with silver flecks, assessed her like a lone wolf stalking his prey. “I never went.”
A trill of excitement raced through her. “Why?”
“None of them appealed to me.”
Liar. The brothel in Thiva was known to have the prettiest girls in all of Delfi. She suspected that was why Alexi and his brothers spent most of their leave staying here instead of visiting somewhere else.
After setting the towels on the shelf, she placed the largest, softest one on a stool beside the tub. She wished he hadn’t placed a wet cloth across his midsection, but appreciated the large bulge under it. His chest was broader than any she’d seen, with tight, thick muscles that rippled down his stomach in hard waves.
“How did you get these scars?” She touched his shoulder, jerking back when he flinched. “Do they still pain you?”
“No.” The force behind that one word was startling, like an unexpected clap of thunder.
“Then why do you flinch?” she asked, her fingertip hovering over a raised line of flesh.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He shot her a glare that could melt iron. “Your parents will not be happy.”
She heard the warring emotions in his voice. He wanted her there. The rising bulge under his towel was proof enough.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, she swirled a finger in the warm, soapy water, dangerously close to his flat stomach. “They won’t know.”
“I’ll tell.” His voice was rough.
“My brother said you were a slave,” she asked. “Is that true?”
His face turned to stone. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” She traced a scar closer to his heart, pleased when he didn’t pull away.
“I didn’t ask for your pity.”
She dipped a sponge in the water, then dragged is across his collarbone. “How did you escape slavery?”
He snatched it from her. “I was given a choice—continue pulling my master’s plow or serve the defenders.”
She frowned. “That’s not much of a choice.”
He gave her a look that made a chill race up her spine. “I have no regrets. I serve with honor.”
Folding her hands in her lap, she sat back. “Why do you hate me?”
He eyed her through sideways slits. “I don’t.”
“You won’t even give me a smile.” She was acting like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted Titus to open up to her.
He snatched the towel off the chair and rose from the water like a mighty leviathan rising from the deep, drops sliding off his glistening skin, his glorious naked backside on full display as he turned from her.
She gasped when she saw that his entire back was covered in crisscrossed scars.
Looking over his shoulder, he sneered. “I smile for no one. You need to leave.”
Rising on shaky legs, she steeled her resolve. “I catch you staring at me. I can’t tell if you’re plotting my murder or wanting a kiss.”
He shrugged, wrapping the towel around his waist. “Neither.”
She contemplated how long he’d let her stare at him, wishing she could reciprocate. “You’re sure?”
“Do you understand that bonded brothers share everything?” He shook water off his shaved head. “Even our women? If I make love to you, so will Quin and Theron.”
Desire shot through her. “I don’t mind.”
He leered from heavy-lidded eyes. “And so will your brother.”
Her stomach roiled at the thought. “But he’s my brother.”
“Which is why we won’t work.” He pointed at the door. “Now leave.”
Her legs were weighted with stones. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t go, so mesmerized was she by those silver flecks in his eyes. “I can’t. Not until you tell me why you hate me.”
His shoulders fell, and he let out a series of curse words that made heat creep into her already burning cheeks. “I told you I don’t hate you!” His voice rose with each word. “It’s taking all of my willpower not to drag you into this tub, spread those beautiful, long legs, and have my way with you.”
“Oh.” The breath was stolen from her lungs, and she could scarcely hear her own thoughts over the loud thrumming of her heart.
His head arched back as if he was a dragon about to strike his prey. “You have three seconds to get out of here before I do something we will both regret.” He began a slow, methodical count, numbers slipping off his tongue like syrup sliding down rough bark. “One, two....”
Kyria had no idea where she got the strength to jump up and run for the door, but she did so without a backward glance. Not until she made it outside, slamming the door behind her with a shuddering breath, did she regret bolting. She wanted Titus to make love to her, but her parents would never forgive her if she so wantonly gave up her virginity. They’d already applied for her to become a priestess of Kyan, a temple that trained virgins from respected families to become perfect brides, a place that thoroughly checked each girl’s chastity before allowing them admittance.
Her legs like porridge, she leaned against the door as that sensitive juncture between her thighs throbbed with a vengeance. Slipping behind the bathhouse, she cast a cursory glance into the woods, then slid down the wall into the soft dirt. She lifted her skirt and slipped her fingers between her legs, flicking that spot until shooting pains of pleasure wracked her. Closing her eyes, she moaned Titus’s name.
KYRIA JERKED AWAKE when an earth-shattering
scream rent the air.
Jade jumped from the bed and raced to the window, swearing when she drew back the curtain.
Still disoriented, Kyria struggled to sit up. “What is it?” she asked as she slipped off the bed.
Jade was ashen. “The palace is on fire.”
“Great goddess!” She trudged to the window. “What do you think is happening? Are we at war?”
“No.” Jade’s voice was hollow, like the echo of a dream. “The prince is overthrowing the king.”
Kyria knocked stuffed dolls and pillows to the floor before crawling on the window seat beside Jade. Thick, black smoke rose from the distant palace.
The king’s palace had two reinforced walls and hundreds of guards. It should have been impenetrable, but it could not withstand an attack from within. Could Jade be right? Had the prince attacked his father?
“How do you know this?” she asked.
Jade placed her fingertips on the tempered glass, tracing the distorted smoke streams that rose up from the castle’s tall turrets. “Because it happened this same way with the last two kings.”
She eyed her friend suspiciously. She was acting strangely. “I don’t remember reading this in our history books.”
“You won’t.” Jade shot her a dark look, black clouds reflecting in her eyes. “There will be no recordings in the history books and no bards singing of the prince’s bravery. He wants us to forget.”
She licked her parched lips, her hollow belly aching with fear. “Why?”
Her bottom lip trembled as a fresh wave of black smoke rose into the air. “The prince will be the new king by nightfall, he will send for you, and your life will become hell.”
Ice flowed through her veins. “Jade, you can’t know this.” Jade was being overly dramatic. Perhaps her politician father had filled her head with stories to frighten her. That had to be the reason, for her behavior was too strange and disconcerting.
A tear slipped over her eye as she stared out the window. “I do. Believe me, Kyria, I do.”
