The Stolen Princess: A YA Dystopian Romance (Desolation Book 3)

by Kortney Keisel

  “Hopefully, that girl gets us what we want,” Dawsick said.

  “Do you really think Adler will give the weapons up for his daughter?” Grady asked.

  Dawsick shrugged. “She’s a pain in the neck, so I could see her father not caring that she’s gone.”

  Drake’s jaw tightened. He hated how Dawsick pretended to know Myka. He’d barely spent a few minutes with her, and part of that time he’d spent trying to grope her. “The Council wouldn’t have decided to kidnap the princess if they didn’t think she was valuable to her father,” he said. “Adler will give up the weapons for her.”

  Myka was a pain in the neck, but Drake had noticed her fierce loyalty and love for her father. Surely, Adler loved her too—enough to give up the weapons.

  “Yeah, but he’s been building and hiding those weapons for eleven years,” Portlend said. “They mean everything to him and his reign. I can’t picture him giving all of that up for Myka.”

  “Defending her father is all she wants to do,” Drake said. “If he doesn’t trade the weapons for her, she’ll be devastated.”

  Dawsick scoffed. “I couldn’t care less if she’s devastated.”

  Drake probably shouldn’t care either. He needed to be rock solid—a hardened man who didn’t care about his prisoner.

  “Drake thinks he can get the princess to trust him and tell him all of her secrets,” Grady said with a challenging smile as he lifted his drink up to his mouth. “He bet on it.”

  The other three men turned to look at him.

  “How do you think you’re going to do that?” Dawsick asked.

  Drake gave him a pointed stare. “I wouldn’t expect you to know how to charm a woman.”

  “So you’re going to pretend to like her so she’ll confide in you?” Portlend asked.

  It wasn’t that hard to pretend.

  Winslow stoked the fire in front of him. “That’s a terrible idea. The princess will see right through it.”

  “Not if it’s done right,” Drake defended.

  Dawsick laughed. “And what do you think she’ll tell you. The location of the weapons?”

  Drake shrugged. “You never know.”

  Portlend shook his head. “If she does know about the weapons, then she’s one of the best liars I have ever seen. But I actually don’t think the bet is that bad of an idea. She’s a woman, and all women want the same thing from a man. A little attention and a little love. It might actually work.”

  “Then you better bring her out for dinner, or you’re never going to win this bet,” Grady said, making the other men laugh.

  Drake stood. He walked to the shack, unlocking the chain, and pushed the door open. The room was dark, but the fading sun illuminated Myka’s hunched-over body. She sat atop her cot, knees tucked up to her chest, forehead down. She slowly lifted her head when the door opened and stared back at him.

  Her sad expression tore at Drake’s heart—his rock-solid, hardened heart. Or maybe it was the guilt brewing inside of him over the stupid bet he never should have made. He shouldn’t feel guilty. This was a job. But guilt was exactly what he felt.

  Drake cleared his throat. “There’s dinner out here.”

  “Am I allowed out?” she asked.

  “If you want.” He held the door open wider, trying to encourage her to come.

  She scooted herself off of the cot and walked to the door. She paused for a moment, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. The anger that was usually in her eyes was gone, replaced by something that looked a lot like sadness.

  She stood before him, a beautiful, sad girl.

  Had Drake done that to her? That was a stupid question. Of course, he had. His heart pressed inside his chest. He tried to ignore it, but the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.

  She lifted her chin and walked past him out the door without another word.

  He closed his eyes, hating the way her vulnerability had affected him. He shut the door behind them and led the way to the campfire for dinner. Drake gestured for Myka to sit down on an open spot on the log.

  “Hey, princess,” Dawsick chirped, “do you want to sit on my lap?” His speech was starting to slur, and Drake wondered if there was more than water in his cup. He could easily imagine Dawsick bringing illegal and non-essential alcohol with him on the mission. He’d probably bought some in the under-the-counter market.

  Myka’s blue eyes flashed to Dawsick. “I can sit on your lap if you want a knee jammed into it.”

  Drake suppressed his wince, knowing that she meant it. “The princess is only out here for dinner.”

  He handed her a cooked skewer, avoiding eye contact. Then he joined Grady and Portlend across the fire where he could still keep an eye on Myka from a safe enough distance that his heart wouldn’t be softened by her. He’d work on gaining her trust another time.

  Myka

  After dinner, Myka walked silently with Drake back to the shack. She’d been planning her escape all afternoon and had decided that her best chance would be to run at night. Yes, she wouldn’t be able to see, and yes, a scary animal might attack her in the woods, but if Myka couldn’t see, then Drake couldn’t see either, and that might be the advantage she needed.

  “I have to go to the bathroom before bed,” she said.

  Drake nodded, switching the direction he walked in from his shack to the woods.

  Myka sucked in a breath, going through her plan one more time. She would stab Drake in the neck.

  The neck? Really? She swallowed, feeling guilty about how violent that seemed. Yes, Myka. The neck. He kidnapped you. Do you ever want to see your father again?

  She closed her eyes, using the action to mentally pump herself up. After the neck stab, she would run, using the trees to keep her hidden. She would keep running all night, and in the morning, when the sunlight swallowed up the moon, she would climb a tree, preferably one that had a lot of leaves still on it that could hide her. She would wait until night again to make another run for it. It was a loose plan with a lot of holes. What was she going to eat? How would she know where to go? But, she would rather take her chances in the unknown woods than stay there with the kidnappers.

  “You can go to the bathroom right here,” Drake said, pointing to a tree.

  Myka stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the curtain ring weapons. She was ready. This is what she had trained for, except that she hadn’t been training. That’s just what people said in these situations.

  She nodded back at Drake, waiting for him to turn around. Once he did, she wouldn’t have that much time before he noticed that she wasn’t going to the bathroom. His back turned, and she pulled in one giant breath. She clutched the weapons tighter and brought her hands out of her pockets, going into battle mode.

  You can do this. Jab it right into his jugular. He’s a bad man. He kidnapped you.

  Her heart raced with fear and adrenaline.

  It was now or never.

  She went to take her first step but paused. The element of surprise was crucial for this to work. Should she move fast like a cheetah or slow like she wasn’t up to anything?

  Definitely cheetah style.

  In one quick motion, Myka leaped for Drake, raising the small make-shift knife above her head ready to bring it down hard against the side of his neck, but he turned, hearing her not-so-quiet cheetah moves, making Myka’s weapon stab him on top of his shoulder between his neck and his bone. He might have yelled—maybe even swore—Myka wasn’t sure. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. She didn’t hang around to see the result of her blow. She took off running in the opposite direction of the camp, keeping her focus on the ground. Tree roots reached out like arms, grabbing at her feet, tripping her up. She jumped and leaped, her chest feeling the heavy weight of exertion.

  “Myka!” Drake called behind her.

  She didn’t turn around to see where he was, but the sound of his voice said he was close—close enough that sh
e probably wasn’t going to make it. She pushed herself harder, willing her legs to move faster as she ducked and slapped at the branches in front of her. Her toe caught on a root, and her body flew forward. She landed on her stomach, the air inside of her slamming out of her chest. She tried sucking in or breathing out, but it was like her lungs didn’t work anymore. Her fingers dug into the dirt as she tried to crawl forward.

  Drake fell on top of her, flattening her to the ground again, bringing her lungs back to life. She gasped for air as she wrestled under his body, but he was too strong. He pinned her arms to the ground, and his large body held hers down. Her face fell into the dirt, and the bed of twigs and pine needles pressed against her cheek. They stayed in that position for a moment, both of them breathing heavily.

  “Get up,” he growled in her ear as he pulled his body off of hers.

  She sucked in one more breath before pushing herself off the ground. Drake grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. She searched his brown eyes for what the consequence would be for trying to hurt him, for trying to escape. Whatever it was, she would face it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower. His flinty eyes dug into her, and his jaw flexed and tightened as he breathed up and down. Slowly he brought his other hand up to her cheek and wiped away a leaf that had stuck to her skin. She stiffened as his fingers skimmed her face. She didn’t like the feel of his touch. It was too intimate. Too warm. Too soft.

  Her heart pounded inside of her chest but it was hard to know if the cause was Drake’s close proximity or the fact that Myka had just run a fifty-yard sprint. Something told her it had to do with Drake.

  Myka’s gaze went to his shoulder, where the metal stuck out of it. The small weapon looked tiny poking out of Drake’s shoulder. It seemed silly now. Something that small was never going to do any real damage, but she had to try. He pulled the bent metal out of his shoulder and threw it to the ground. Blood bubbled up and ran into the edge of his shirt.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he pushed her forward toward the shack.

  That’s it? That was all he was going to do to her? She’d just tried to stab him in the neck—tried—and he wasn’t going to punish her? She’d been expecting more, and the fact that Drake hadn’t laid a harsh finger on her twisted her up inside. The sting of a slap across the cheek might have been better than this twisty feeling.

  They walked back in silence, which wasn’t that surprising. What do you talk about after an attempted neck stabbing?

  The topics were limited.

  Her plan hadn’t worked, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try again. She would find another way to escape.

  She had to.

  Drake was the enemy. That’s what she told herself.

  16

  Drake

  Drake slammed the medic kit down on the table in front of him. He should have cleaned the wound up last night right after Myka had stabbed him, but he hadn’t wanted to give her the satisfaction that her escape attempt had actually been worth it. His stubborn pride probably would lead to an infection from the rust on Myka’s weapon. He glanced at her and the other four men sitting around the fire behind him, watching him as they ate their breakfast.

  “I can’t believe you stabbed him,” Dawsick laughed.

  “Hopefully, you’re next,” Myka muttered.

  “I’m not as stupid as Drake is. I wouldn’t turn my back to my prisoner.”

  “She was going to the bathroom.” Drake scoffed. “Of course, I turned my back to her.”

  “I still wouldn’t turn my back,” Dawsick said, winking at Myka.

  Winking? What self-respecting man winked?

  Myka’s face frowned in disgust. “Don’t wink at me again, or it won’t matter that you wouldn’t turn around because I’ll stab you in your stupid, winking eye.”

  Drake wasn’t going to smile. He was mad at Myka, and it didn’t matter how much he completely loved her remark to Dawsick. He was mad, and he intended to stay mad.

  He had been stupid. For some reason, he had thought he and Myka had a good relationship. Granted, he had kidnapped her, but he had assumed that Myka knew deep down in her heart that he was a good guy—not a kidnapping guy. But the stabbing proved she didn’t know that. How could she? She didn’t know that Drake had been against the kidnapping from the start. She didn’t know that he hated every second of tying her up. All she saw was the version of him that had to make sure she didn’t escape. Could he really blame her for trying to stab him?

  He looked at the medical supplies in front of him, grabbing some antiseptic and a bandage. He pulled the collar of his shirt aside and dropped his chin and his eyes so he could see his shoulder.

  “Would you like some help?” Myka asked in her sweetest voice, trying to irritate him further.

  “Not from you,” he said as he cleaned up his shoulder.

  “Oh, okay.” She turned to look at Dawsick. “Hey Dawsick, Drake needs your help to bandage his shoulder.”

  “Can we get one of those bandages to gag her, so she shuts up?” Portlend asked.

  “So much for getting her to trust you,” Winslow grumbled as he walked past Drake on his way to the river.

  Drake tensed, glancing at Myka to see if she had heard the older man, but she was talking with Grady. He thought he’d been making progress with the bet, gaining ground, but clearly, Winslow was right. She didn’t trust him at all.

  “I can’t believe how warm the weather has been here,” Grady said, looking up to the sky.

  Myka coughed loudly, and Drake eyed her. She would probably fake choking or something like that next, but instead, she dropped her hand and went back to her eating.

  “Kase didn’t think it was warm when we were in Denton,” Portlend said.

  Myka dramatically coughed again.

  “Well, he’s from Cristole, where the weather is warm all of the time,” Grady replied.

  Another cough from Myka. Drake turned his head fully. Was she choking? She glanced up at him, clearing her throat, then looked away.

  “You should see the clothes Kase packed,” Dawsick said with a laugh. “You’d think he was living the next month of his life in a blizzard. He only has warm stuff.”

  Myka coughed again, and this time Drake caught on to her. Her coughs were too big and dramatic to be believable. He smiled to himself. How many times had Myka played this game with them? He remembered her weird hair flipping a few days ago. Had there been other conversations?

  Drake couldn’t just let it go.

  “Myka, are your eggs warm enough?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said through another cough.

  Drake glanced at her. “Because I could warm them up for you. If you want.”

  “How kind of you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, coughing even louder.

  “I only like eggs if they’re warm,” Grady added, and Drake had to suppress his smile as Myka coughed again.

  Portlend stood, emptying his plate into the fire. “I saw some deer in the woods. I thought I might try hunting today. Then we could eat some venison.”

  Drake looked at Myka and smiled. “I love warm venison.”

  She glared at him through her cough and stood. “Can I come with you?” she asked Portlend.

  His face dropped like having the princess tag along with him would be the last thing he wanted. “No,” he said flatly, then he spun around and left.

  Dawsick and Grady cleared their plates into the fire and set them on the table before walking away, leaving Drake alone with her.

  “Do I have to keep saying the word warm, or are you done with that game?” he asked.

  Myka raised her chin and looked away. “I don’t know why I couldn’t go catch a deer with Portlend.”

  Drake’s eyebrows went up. “Catch a deer? Is Portlend out there with some kind of net?”

  Her expression went sour. “You know what I meant.”

  “Well, you can’t go because you tried to escape last night, and as punishment, you’re no
t allowed to do anything fun.”

  She sighed. “I’ve never been hunting before. I think I’d be good at it. I’m an excellent shot.”

  Drake scoffed. “I have a bullet hole in my arm that says otherwise.”

  “I told you before, if I’d wanted to shoot you in the heart, I could have.” She raised a cocky eyebrow at him, making Drake feel hot. He didn’t know what it was about Myka, but she made every feeling inside of him spin out of control.

  He tilted his head considering her. “You’re not at all what I expected the princess of Tolsten to be like.”

  “Oh? Please tell me what you thought the princess of Tolsten would be like,” she said, unable to hide her mockery.

  Drake thought about it as he loaded the supplies back into the medic kit. He turned around, leaning against the table, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve only met one other princess besides you, and you couldn’t be more different from her.”

  “You’re talking about Princess Seran?”

  Drake nodded. “I am.”

  Myka straightened, and her expression went hard. “What made Princess Seran so much better than me?”

  “I didn’t say she was better than you. I said she was different. Seran was poised, regal, controlled, elegant, and mature. She was all about becoming and fulfilling her future role as queen.”

  Myka let out a small laugh and dropped her eyes, giving Drake the sense that he had hurt her feelings. “Well, I’m none of those things, so I’m definitely not fit to be a queen someday.”

  “That’s not true. You have other qualities that, if developed the right way, would make you a great queen.”

  Her blue eyes lifted. “Like what?”

  The usual bite in her tone was gone. It was as though she wanted—no, needed—to hear what those qualities were.

  “You’re bold. You do things your way, and you don’t care what people think about it. That tells me that as a queen, you wouldn’t get pushed around. You’re brave and have fight inside of you. If channeled in the right direction, that would be a huge strength for a kingdom. And you’re fiercely loyal.”