The Stray Prince (Royals Book 2)

by Ella Fields

  “I shouldn’t be here?” he said with a bark of humorless laughter. His stare grew colder, as did his tone. “There’s no time for this.” Gesturing to the doors, he said, “Let’s go. I can sweep you back to the estate, and then I’ll return.”

  I smiled, a sad flash of teeth, then sighed. “We both know that fixes nothing. You’re wasting your time, and you’re about to get yourself and many others killed.” I lowered my voice, hissing, “Leave, and hurry, you giant idiot.”

  His eyes widened, his finger jabbing at the metal over his chest. “Me?” He snarled. “Fuck, enough, we need to—”

  Footsteps pounded outside, and Zad lunged for me.

  I stepped back, narrowly avoiding his touch as he began to fade, and heard him growl as he swept himself out of the room.

  Guards rushed in, two of the remaining handful the king had left behind. They searched every chamber and even went as far as to open and close the bureau and desk drawers, as if someone could hide in there.

  “Will you do me the courtesy of telling me what is going on here?” I asked, crossing my arms. “This is rather rude, I must say.”

  They finally acknowledged my presence—well, one of them did. The other was peering behind the doors, heading into the bathing room again.

  “We heard something, and now we’ve scented...” He gazed around. “Something.”

  I lifted a brow. “Something?”

  The soldier removed his helmet, and I recognized him as Breen, who had been put in charge of watching me. “Yes, my lady. We’ve scented the prince.”

  “Oh, right. Well, you won’t find him”—I poured myself some cold tea—“being that he left with your loud arrival.”

  He blinked, then frowned. “So he was here?”

  “You know as well as I do that he was, wolf,” I said, sipping from the teacup. “But as I’ve already stated, you won’t find him now.”

  After staring at me a long moment, as if wondering what I was playing at and if I’d tell him anything else, he resumed his search. It didn’t last long, and they soon left, leaving the doors to the antechamber wide open.

  Midnight darkened the sky, and I eventually bathed before dressing in a lavender gown that gathered around my feet in gentle pleats. The shoulders were beaded with gold spheres, and Temika dusted my eyelids in the same shade.

  She’d just finished pulling my hair back into a loose braid that curled over my right shoulder when the castle came alive, doors opening and footsteps marching, orders bleated from outside, sharp enough to carry through the windows.

  I refrained from rushing to see what had happened and nodded at Temika in the mirror. “That will be all.”

  “They return,” she said as if I hadn’t heard. “I’ll go see where the king wants you.”

  I couldn’t avoid bristling at that if I’d tried, the manner it was spoken. As though I were his toy and he’d do with me as he so wished.

  It might have been true, for now, but that did not mean I couldn’t detest it quietly.

  My mind was a riot of mismatched thoughts. Where was Zad? Had he made it back to whatever group he’d journeyed here with? Was he okay?

  Temika returned with Breen and another guard, and I was escorted to the throne room. Relief at being able to discover my people’s fate, my heart’s fate, blurred with dread, each step too fast and too fucking slow.

  Except for the king and his typical line of warriors upon the two long walls, the throne room was empty.

  Temika curtsied at the door, and Breen took post outside it.

  I stared at the king, who stared at me from his throne as a lone, long finger massaged his temple. He was wearing the same pants he’d donned in his studio with a long-sleeved armored shirt. “Audra,” he said as though I was giving him a headache. I hoped I was. “Do come here.”

  Walking forward, I noticed the banquet tables were piled high with food, goblets gleaming under the candle-strewn chandeliers above.

  Reaching the dais, I curtsied, slowly lifting my eyes to his. He clicked his fingers beside him, and I lifted my chin, stepping up to take my seat on the smaller throne.

  “No,” he snapped before I could lower myself to the twisting wood. “Here.”

  His lap. Darkness engulf me, he wanted me to sit on his lap like a good little pet.

  Smiling a little to ward off any display of my hesitance, I did, his leg hard beneath my ass as he shifted me where he wanted me. I knew better than to ask him anything when he was in a mood that could flick between crazed lust to violence in a heartbeat. It leaked from his every pore and stiff limb, simmered in the gold and black of his eyes.

  Cupping my chin with the ends of his fingers, he directed my gaze to his. “Tell me,” he said, that oily feeling entering my mind, pulsing over my skin. “Did you know your beloved would come for you?”

  “I did not know, but I had hoped he would not,” I said because I’d been compelled to, and also because it was the truth.

  The king’s attention dropped to my mouth, fingers dragging down my neck to circle the tops of my breasts. “Well, he has. But,” he said, “we’ve reached yet another agreement.”

  He read the eagerness in my eyes, and his lips curved. “Zadicus, along with his accomplices, handed themselves over in exchange for their fleet’s safe passage home.” His fingers trailed back up, tracing my lips, pausing upon the scars. “You owe me.”

  “Indeed,” I said, my relief and gratitude all too real as I relaxed a little in his lap. I curled my legs up higher, draped myself over him like a fur-lined cloak, my arm crawling behind his neck to his shoulders. “You let my people go.”

  His mouth twisted, some of the darkness leaving his eyes. “Most of them, yes.”

  “What do you plan to do with the others?”

  He stiffened beneath me at that, but I still splayed my hand over his taut stomach. “Why, I plan to torment them as any good king would.” He looked to the side, to where the door leading to the dungeon was. My heart kicked and screamed as at least ten guards opened it and disappeared.

  A small table loaded with herbed chicken legs appeared next to his throne with a click of his fingers. He plucked one up, tearing into it with vigor, while I fought with everything I had to remain somewhat relaxed.

  There were no other visitors, no courtiers arrived, only the prisoners.

  I kept my eyes from roaming over them all. I kept my expression bland as they were herded in like sheep. I kept my heart from breaking when I saw who they were.

  Zadicus, Azela, Kash, Dace, Berron, and Raiden.

  The latter shoved a guard off, one eye swelling. “I must say.” Raiden tilted his head to me. “It does not seem as though you are in need of rescue, my queen.”

  The king chuckled, then pointed at Raiden, demanding, “Let this one eat. I like his spirit.”

  Not one to argue with a good deal, Raiden didn’t protest as he was dragged to the back of the room and pushed into a seat. He stared at his bound hands expectantly.

  The shifter merely grinned, then retreated to the wall as Raiden stared at all the food he could not touch.

  “Use that snide mouth of yours,” Ryle said.

  Raiden stilled, knowing a dare and a threat when he heard one.

  Hot and probing, Zad’s gaze was a building inferno. I paid him no mind and looked at Azela. She lifted a shoulder, chains rattling as it dropped.

  Kash just stood there, appearing petulantly bored.

  “Do you have no care for the male who went to such lengths to retrieve you?” Ryle purred, his hand at my back, fingers upon my exposed skin.

  “He’s a fool,” I said, meaning it.

  The king grinned. “Poor, dear brother.” Then he said, “Give them all a seat. They must be tired after their daring journey.”

  Shuffling and clanging ensued, and Zad entered my line of vision. His lip pulled back, his eyes flashing, and the words, “Careful, now,” shaped silently by his lips.

  In response, I fluttered my lashes.


  A sharp sting snapped my spine taut, accompanying the sound of a rip.

  My dress. The king had ripped my gown, and his nails had scratched my back while doing so. A reminder, a warning to his brother, and to be sure he’d garnered my full attention.

  I peered into his face, questioning.

  He beckoned me closer, so close he could drag his teeth over my cheek. “I will make him regret the day he mated to you, far more than he ever could.” He heard me swallow and smiled. “You seem torn,” he whispered to my ear.

  “Because I fear I am,” I said, barely a sound, and when his lips moved for mine, I stayed breathlessly still, allowing them to meet.

  Gone was the delicate way he’d tried to convince me to bend just hours ago. It had been replaced with a savage display of what could only be construed as ownership.

  His lips pried mine apart instantly, his tongue dragging over their edges with deliberate slowness.

  Zad roared. Flecks of mortar and dirt drizzled, the entire keep trembling. I broke away from the king in time to see a thin crack race up the floor toward the throne, waves of heat rippling out from deep within.

  Ryle stared at it, and it ceased, then he lifted his eyes to Zad, who had snapped the chains that’d bound his hands.

  He stood between the two crossed tables, smoke curling from his wings, from his entire being, in sharp tendrils toward the ceiling. His chest heaved, his nostrils flared wide, and his brows sank low over his rage-heavy glower.

  He took a menacing step forward.

  Before I could draw breath, my ears ringing, the king’s warriors charged, and he was taken to the ground.

  Five warriors wrestled him, two falling away with blood running from their noses and mouths. I stood as an invisible force flung the wolves off him, one hitting the wall with a violent crack.

  Again, Zadicus strode forward while the king remained seated behind me.

  I tried to move, tried to tell him to stop, but I could only gape as he rolled his shoulders and swiped the back of his hand over his bloodied lip. His eyes were on mine, shifting briefly to the king behind me, his fury so suffocating he didn’t realize, or perhaps did not care, that more warriors had advanced on him.

  He stared at me as they did, defeat and a myriad of hostile emotions smoldering from him as a cloth was stuffed near his flaring nose, and his eyes fluttered shut.

  It took four warriors to drag him to the side door by the arms and legs, and then through it. Its clang reverberated, and still, I watched, waiting for him to release more of that thundering rage again and put up a fight.

  But he didn’t.

  Whatever they’d made him inhale had knocked him out.

  Silence rained over the throne room, and the king let out a long-suffering sigh. “Return the rest to their cages, and have our meals brought to my rooms.”

  I went with him, of course, being sure to keep my attention fixed forward, away from the eyes of the prisoners being hauled to the bowels of the king’s lair. Shaking, I excused myself to the bathing room, where I splashed water from the marble bowl upon the vanity onto my too-white cheeks.

  He should’ve left. He should’ve done as I’d said and returned home.

  Now, we were both to be subjected to the king’s whims.

  Fucking fool, I thought. Stupid, arrogant, insufferable, perfect fool.

  “Your marriage to the king,” Ryle said when I joined him, the word king said as though it shouldn’t exist. “You wish to end it, do you not?” He was sprawled over the bed, eating a leg of chicken, eyes on my ripped dress and the skin visible.

  I was both surprised and relieved by the subject. Relieved he wasn’t going to goad me into tormenting Zad further. At least, for now.

  I folded onto the puffed, furred stool at his desk and helped myself to some chicken and spiced dipping cream. “I do.”

  Ryle made a noise of consideration. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

  But at what cost? I did not ask. Instead, I poured myself a few sips of wine, and said, “How?”

  “Never you mind.” He tossed the chicken bones to the floor, reaching for his wine. Standing, he drained the goblet, prowling slowly toward me. With his fingers curling around the end of my braid, he said, “I’ll need you free of such ties if we intend to rejoin Beldine with its cleaved sister, Rosinthe.”

  I could think of nothing worse than our two continents rejoining—the horror and bloodshed it would cause.

  So I drank more wine and tried not to.

  I woke on the chaise at the end of the king’s bed.

  A few sips of wine had turned into three goblets at the king’s encouragement.

  I hadn’t needed much in the way of encouraging, though, not when I could feel Zad’s presence, that unwavering lethal rage, deep below. Not when I remembered how he’d looked at me in the throne room, as though he could murder the king and me in one single move before he’d been taken down.

  I could not blame him, but I could not stand to remember either.

  Coward. I was a fucking coward, and I was painfully aware of it.

  The king had me dance myself stupid while he’d remained upon the bed with his winged lover. They’d both laughed, clapping and kissing and clapping some more, and when things got heated, his compulsion over me broke, and I excused myself to the bathing room.

  Locked inside, I’d stared at the fading moon through the window until the sound of their fucking had ceased. Then knowing I’d need a somewhat decent rest that wouldn’t be achieved in the bathing tub, I’d snatched a silver embroidered cloak from the king’s wardrobe. Padding softly over the floor, I’d spied their naked bodies entangled upon the ginormous bed but paid them no mind as I’d succumbed to sleep the moment my own had slumped over the cushioned chaise.

  The king was gone when I woke. It was late, well past breakfast judging by the slant of the moon and the bowl of some type of meaty smelling broth that’d grown cold on the desk.

  I ate, the rich flavor barely arousing my taste buds, and then I dressed in a simple black gown that, appearing leather at first glance, had been slung over the armchair. Its stretchy fabric clung to every curve, but I was thankful it showed little cleavage for Ryle to dare touch. I wasn’t sure whether to be disturbed over my growing affection for the Fae’s unusual finery and fashions, half wondering if I’d miss them.

  I removed my braid, dragged my fingers through the waves of my hair, and other than dabbing a little rouge to my lips, I chose to forgo makeup. In slippers that molded to my feet, I opened the doors, nodding to the sentinels standing outside. “The king?”

  Breen answered, “In a meeting with his war council.”

  “The queens are here?” I asked.

  A jerked shake of his head was all the response I’d receive.

  No, then. Of course, he’d fail to include them in whatever outrageous plans he had. To him, the three queens of this realm were probably nothing more than decorations he’d been forced to keep.

  I wasn’t sure if I was allowed out, so I didn’t bother asking. I walked by them as though I had every right to, and neither of the werewolves stopped me.

  As though I were merely heading out for one of my leisurely strolls, I took the private entrance Zad had once taken me through to the gardens.

  And then I hunted.

  Thorns broke the skin of my fingers, and I swatted away countless insects, rummaging through shrubbery under the guise of inspecting the beautiful roses.

  After some minutes, a tinny whistle sounded, but I ignored it, pressing on and rounding the corner to where the waterfall’s spray bounced up into the air, bathing the earth and the exterior of the castle.

  It sounded again, closer this time, pulling my eyes from the bushes, stone, and woodwork to the grassy expanse to my left. A sentinel stood a little ways from me, facing forward, his armor glittering from the light mist of the water.

  I walked over when he flicked his gloved fingers.

  He said nothing as I ne
ared, but I saw the door on the other side of him. “My partner is relieving himself,” he said, a quiet invitation when I hesitated.

  I wasn’t sure who he was and who his loyalties belonged to, but I wasn’t about to argue.

  I accepted the invite, heading inside, where I took two sets of stairs and turn after turn, ignoring the prying eyes from behind leafy cells until I finally found him tucked well away from the others and in impenetrable confinement.

  In the deepest, darkest, dampest part of the dungeon, he sat in a cell with nothing but a rusted pail. Unlike the others, he’d been caged in iron, the towering thick metal embedded deep within the earth and ceiling.

  It wouldn’t kill him, not for a long time if at all, but it would weaken him considerably the longer he spent trapped down here.

  I tried not to think about how long that could be or how I was supposed to bargain his way out of this. The king had no intention of letting him leave, and I was of sound enough mind to know a form of bribery when I saw one.

  He would keep him to ensure I played nice and went along with whatever schemes he was dreaming up.

  I’d need to worry about that later. Right now, my every desire and fear was caged like an animal, and after his outburst the previous evening, I had to wonder if perhaps he was. If I’d been too adept at ignoring signs I didn’t want to see, the obvious details and lack thereof before me, somehow knowing it might lead to disaster.

  He wasn’t human. He wasn’t royal. He wasn’t anything I could contend with.

  He was a beast, a creature that until recently, I’d only ever heard about in storybooks.

  But he was mine, and I was his, and I couldn’t deny that I wanted him no matter who or what he was.

  I wanted him even if I could not find a way to co-exist with everything he made me feel, the constant threat he presented to my heart, and the way he’d so calculatedly hidden huge parts of himself from me.

  “Has he had you yet?” His first words to me.

  I ignored the sting and how he did not even deign to look at me. His eyes were on the damp soil, his back against the earthen wall.