JAMES
THREE DAYS LATER
A shove sends me stumbling through the massive double doors of the throne room and I nearly fail to catch myself.
The trip overland to De’Vero is usually only a day but the De’Vero soldiers had split it into two after taking their time leaving Carmine.
The trip had been hell—and that’s putting it mildly.
Now as I’m escorted down the middle of the throne room, my anger at the opulence is effective in pushing aside my fatigue.
My attention is fixated on the King sitting on the throne at the far end of the hall.
The past roars up so fast I stumble again as the soldier flanking me gives me another shove.
I suppress a growl, the urge to retaliate is nearly too much to ignore.
As we approach, I notice the King looks sickly, far less of a monster than the man I’d conjured up in my mind all these years.
It’s satisfying to see him on the decline.
On his right is the crown prince—Aldric, I believe is his name.
I don’t know much about the son, but from the sour twist of his mouth and the way he appears to be petulantly sitting tells me I probably won’t like him.
Besides the guards lining the room, the only other man of note is the soldier standing at the bottom of the dais steps—his decorations label him the General of the fleet.
There is an empty throne next to the King, two in fact.
One I know is for the Queen who died years ago, and the other is for the second son.
I’ve never seen him. The rumor is he is the kingdom’s drunkard, playboy and general degenerate who shirks responsibilities and spends most of his days gallivanting in the brothels.
The soldier who’d caught me and escorted me here, bows low beside me.
“Your majesty—”
When he sees I’m not following his lead, he kicks the backs of my legs, sending me sinking down to my knees. My jaw clenches, fists tightening with the urge to put him in his place.
“I’ve brought you the infamous pirate—Captain James Blackwell.”
Both royals appear taken aback although Aldric hides it faster than his father.
“And how in the world did you manage to do that?” The King asks.
The soldier looks startled and confused. “I received a tip, sire.”
“A tip?” Aldric states. “From whom?”
“It was anonymous, your majesty.”
“An anonymous tip allowed you to take down one of the most notorious pirates to ever sail these seas?” The prince states incredulously.
It’s annoying how they’re rubbing it in—I’m well aware of how ridiculous this is. Thankfully, before anyone can speak again, the doors behind us slam open and everyone’s attention goes over my shoulder as the sound of boots striding over marble echoes through the space.
A smirk appears on Aldric’s face as he sees who’s approaching.
“Ah, the runaway returns.”
The soldier turns and hastily bows again but when I attempt to turn to look, he shoves my head down, forcing me to bow once more.
That’s the final straw for me. I lunge for him—landing a hit to his jaw before dragging him down to the ground and wrapping my manacles around his neck.
I lean back with all my strength, bent on killing him.
I’m already fucked, might as well take one with me—
I hear the click of a pistol as it’s pressed to the back of my head and a familiar voice carries over the sound of the man choking under my hands.
“I would really, really hate to have to shoot you, Captain.”
The shock of that voice in this setting causes me to loosen my hold enough that the soldier is able to shove me off and scramble out of harm’s way. The pistol retreats and Fox steps into view in front of me, that cocky, smug-ass smile firmly on his face.
“Son of a bitch,” I growl.
Fox barks a laugh. “That’s certainly one of my names.”
I scowl. “You have many it seems.”
I let my eyes trail over him. I’m forced to admit he looks immaculate in all black, with deep green trim and a gold circlet nestled just slightly off balance in his brown, wavy hair.
It gives him just the right amount of carelessness.
My stomach clenches—whether in annoyance or with desire; I don’t want to examine which too closely.
He bows deeply, bringing him nearly eye level with me.
Fox smirks. “I suppose I should officially introduce myself—my name is Prince Caspian De’Vero—charming second-born, royal liability—honestly I’ll answer to just about anything.”
“That’s good, because I have a bunch of options on the tip of my tongue.”
“Do you?” His eyes rake me with a heated undertone, and as the silence stretches, his smug amusement deepens and he cocks his head. “Not quite how you thought it would go—is it? You told me once I’d be the one on my knees—begging for death is I believe how you put it.”
My lip curls into a snarl. “Fuck you.”
He smirks and there’s that damn dimple. We’re inches apart, my anger fueling his amusement.
His eyes drop to my lips. So brief it’s merely a fraction of a second but I notice and a rumble of derision escapes me.
How can this man be so efficient at provoking my annoyance and desire all with barely a look?
“Careful what you wish for.” His words are meant for my ears alone and those eyes burn straight through me. “You look so good on your knees, I might just keep you there—” His eyes search mine, dark and sensual. “And show you what surrender really tastes like.”
My mouth goes dry and for the first time in my life, I’m struck completely speechless. We hover there, the energy so charged between us I can practically feel the sparks.
“You two know each other?” Aldric interrupts.
“We’ve met,” Caspian states simply, refusing to look anywhere but at me.
A throat clears, breaking the spell, and Caspian slowly straightens and turns to the King. Air rushes back into my lungs so fast I get lightheaded.
“I was the one who let slip that Blackwell was in Carmine.” He looks over his shoulder at me with a knowing look. “I thought we could give the Captain a taste of our hospitality.”
The King is looking at Caspian with a look that says none of this surprises him in the slightest. I suppose being his father he would be familiar with the prince’s antics.
“Well, regardless of how it came about, I am pleased to have him in hand,” the King says. “Sentencing will be in three days time—”
“Why delay?” Aldric interrupts. “We all know he’s headed for the noose.”
“Three days—” the King continues, looking at his son in annoyance. “To see if we can round up any more of his crew, and three days to make a proper spectacle of it as befitting crimes of piracy and his reputation.” He nods to his general. “Take him away.”
I’m seething as the General himself takes hold of my arm to lead me out of the throne room.
I glare at Fox—damnit, Caspian , the fucking prince—as I leave his lips still have a twist of amusement to them.
But his eyes are dark, bottomless and glittering with what I can only call desire.
It’s a promise to me that we haven’t seen the last of each other—just like his last message.
I’m such a fool—I’d been right but so very, very wrong too.
How could I have missed the signs? It seems blatantly, painfully, obvious to me now.
I turn my back on him as we near the door and make sure both of my middle fingers are visible to him. I can’t be sure but just before we leave the throne room, I swear I hear the rumble of a laugh.