Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
The muffled sounds of heavy footsteps in the passageway warned Lorne of the guards’ approach, even before the lock to his cell rattled.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to remain steady despite his racing heart. Not again. He wasn’t ready. After that old man had left, the guards had come. And then…and then…
He couldn’t hold up to much more. He simply couldn’t. He was going to break, and he’d tell them everything. His kingdom would pay because he wasn’t strong enough.
The door swung open, and light speared inside, so bright against the blackness that Lorne flinched even with his eyes already closed.
After a moment, Lorne cracked his eyelids open and squinted into the lamplight as one of the two guards wedged himself into the tiny cell, stepping around Lorne’s legs, and reached for the chains pinning Lorne’s hands above his head.
Lorne didn’t resist as the guard unlocked his hands and immediately shackled them behind his back. The guard yanked him to his feet, and he had to mash his mouth shut to keep from whimpering at the pain shooting through his body.
He was dragged out of the cell, then hauled between the two guards down the now familiar corridor toward the just as familiar room at the end.
Another guard opened the door, and he staggered inside. The guards shoved him onto his knees so hard he couldn’t help but give a cry of pain.
“That isn’t necessary.” A female voice—high-pitched and yet modulated—rang in the room, as out of place as a bouquet of flowers would have been.
Lorne managed to lift his head. A young woman stood near the center of the room, her back rigid, her dark brown hair wound in a braid around her head like a crown. The old man who had given Lorne water stood behind her.
The young woman made a gesture with her hand. “Please leave. I wish to speak with this man alone.”
“Your Highness, he’s—”
“Clearly not in any condition to be a danger to me.” The young woman’s voice rang with authority, her head high as she stared the guards down.
Lorne’s skin prickled, his senses far more alert. There was only one person in Kelverny who held that title.
Crown Princess Adeline, the only heir of the current king of Kelverny.
Was this his chance? Would he finally get to talk to one of the members of the Kelvernese royal family?
The guards hesitated a moment longer before they left the room, closing the door after them.
Once the door was closed, Princess Adeline glanced around the room. Her mouth pressed into a tighter line as she picked up her skirt and took a step to the left, putting her farther away from the rather large bloodstain on the floor.
The sight shouldn’t have sent a hard laugh welling in Lorne’s throat.
A sure sign all the torture and days in the dark dungeon were getting to him.
But this princess was just so incongruous in her bright pink dress edged in white lace and stitched with gold thread in this place of blackness and torture.
That bloodstain was probably from him. And his men.
Remembering that quelled the chuckle before it became actual sound.
For a long moment, she stared at him, and he stared back. Should he make the first move? Or wait for her? Should he be defiant? Or conciliatory as he made a final bid for peace?
She drew in a deep breath, her shoulders straightening. “I am Crown Princess Adeline of Kelverny. I am sorry for what you and your men have endured.”
“We came under a flag of truce.” Lorne held her gaze, telling himself that he wasn’t going to flinch away from a pair of deep brown eyes. Not after what he’d faced in the past weeks.
“I know.” The stiff line of her shoulders remained, as did the upward tilt of her chin. “That was my grandfather’s doing, not mine. I wish to bring about peace, not continue this war.”
“A nice thought, but right now you don’t even have the power to get me out of this dungeon.” Lorne let the edge of bitterness coat his tone. Since being brought here, he’d learned more of the political situation, thanks to the chatter of the guards when they thought he was too out of it to hear.
Princess Adeline shared a look with the old man still standing behind her before she took a small step forward. “My grandfather has been mortally wounded while he was overseeing the army. Word is, he will be dead by morning. I will be queen tomorrow.”
Then she would have power to halt the torture and actually listen to the diplomatic envoys this time. Assuming the lords didn’t eat her alive the moment the crown landed on her head.
Did Lorne’s father know that the Kelvernese king had been wounded? And how bad it was? Kelverny was about to be vulnerable as the crown transferred from the warmongering, strong king to this girl who, while poised and proper, didn’t have the presence or power of her grandfather.
Lorne eyed her. There was something niggling at the back of his admittedly somewhat sluggish brain. “Isn’t there some Kelvernese law about royal inheritance? Something about marriage…”
“Yes. To be crowned as queen, I must be married.” Crown Princess Adeline remained serene and poised, even if something flashed through her eyes too quickly for Lorne to read.
After a moment, her gaze sharpened more fully on him.
“I would like to marry you. I believe true peace can only be achieved through such a drastic measure.”
Oh. Oh. It took everything in him not to react. This princess had no idea what she was proposing. She didn’t know that he wasn’t a mere Lalsacian lord. He was its crown prince. Its only heir.
Since Crown Princess Adeline was Kelverny’s only heir, their marriage would essentially unite their kingdoms. It wouldn’t just be a mere peace. They would become one kingdom.
Was that what she wanted? Had Kelverny somehow discovered his real identity? It would be a brilliant move to marry him. She would gain the Donnaris Forest and the fleech dragons without ever launching a volley.
Yet he would also gain the sylon cats and the mines on the western side of the Pernell Mountains. He would someday be King of Lalsacia as she would be Queen of Kelverny. As long as their nobles didn’t revolt over such a thing, they would co-rule the kingdoms together.
This could be peace. A lasting peace. He simply had to say yes and take the risk alongside her.
Besides, what other choice did he have? It was either marry her or break under torture, thus handing Kelverny the means to break his kingdom.
“Yes, I will marry you.” He held her gaze without wavering. He’d do it. But he wasn’t going to tell her who he was. Not yet. Not until he was sure he could trust her and this wasn’t a ploy to gain his crown and kingdom.
Her shoulders slumped slightly as she released an exhale, the only sign of vulnerability before she drew herself straight once again. “Very well. Thaddeus will see to you. I’m afraid the wedding is somewhat clandestine.”
Of course it was. She likely didn’t yet have the power to truly release him from the dungeon against her grandfather’s orders.
Perhaps the guards would be bribed or she had a few on her side.
Nor would most of her nobles stand for a midnight marriage to an enemy, even if no one but him would know the true political ramifications of this wedding.
“I understand.” Lorne’s knees ached from kneeling on the stone. But this would all be over soon.
Before morning, he’d be married to the enemy princess.
A new set of guards arrived shortly after the princess and her steward left.
These guards hauled him up the dungeon stairs and through what felt like every deserted corridor in the castle before he was shoved into a room, his shackles finally removed.
He stumbled and collapsed to his knees, too weak to stay standing.
As he rubbed his bruised and reddened wrists, the door behind him shut with the distinct click of the lock sliding into place. Good to know where he stood. He might be marrying the princess, but he wasn’t trusted. Not by a long shot.
Then again, he didn’t trust them either so at least they were well matched in that regard.
The room was opulent enough. He appeared to be in a sitting room, and he could see the opening to a bedchamber beyond. Several plush chairs and couches surrounded the thick rug where he knelt while tapestries featuring stylized sylon cats covered the walls.
Behind him, the lock clicked again a moment before the door opened. This time, Thaddeus stepped inside with a leather bag over a shoulder. A guard followed with a steaming kettle in one hand while another guard lingered by the door, prepared to step in if the enemy prince proved to be hostile.
Lorne kept one arm pressed to his stomach to somewhat contain the pain of his ribs. He would have laughed, but that would have hurt far too much. He wasn’t in any shape to attack anyone. Right now, even Thaddeus could take him.
The guard set the kettle on a porcelain tile on a side table. He lingered for a moment until Thaddeus gave him a nod and gestured to the door. With one last glance, the guard left, closing the door after him.
“Come. Sit.” Thaddeus pointed at the couch closest to the side table. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough time to properly tend your wounds, but let’s get you cleaned up enough to make it through the ceremony.”
Lorne gathered himself enough to push to his feet. He took two steps and fell more than sat on the couch. He remained sitting upright rather than lying down. He didn’t trust this man enough to be that vulnerable.
And, well, if he lay down, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to get up again.
Thaddeus set his bag on the table before he bustled into the bedchamber, returning a moment later with a porcelain basin. He set it on the table before he poured steaming water from the kettle into it.
Grimacing, Lorne struggled to untie the laces of his shirt. He managed to twist enough to get one of his arms partially out of the sleeve, but then…he got stuck. Humiliatingly stuck with his shirt wrapped around him as if he were a child who couldn’t undress himself.
Thaddeus reached out and helped him untangle himself. After some tugging—and a few cries of pain—Thaddeus finally drew a knife and cut the shirt off. Much of it was still stuck to the dried blood and open wounds on Lorne’s back and across his chest.
With a shake of his head, Thaddeus returned to the table and dipped a rag in the water.
“We’ll worry about the rest of it after the ceremony when the physician can tend you.
If we try to peel all that off now, we’ll reopen your wounds and you’ll likely bleed through the bandages during the ceremony.
Here, clean up your face and hands as much as you can. ”
Lorne took the rag and scrubbed his face, his movements slow and pained. Even lifting his hand to his face ached in his stiff shoulders and sent stabs of agony through his ribs.
At least he could put off the pain of properly tending his wounds for a while longer. With the way the remnants of his shirt were embedded into the crusts of blood, that was going to hurt nearly as much as the actual torture had.
After Lorne had managed to clean up some of the blood and grime of the dungeon from his face and hands, Thaddeus helped him change into clean clothes and spritzed him with a hint of cologne to hide the unwashed, dungeon smell as much as possible.
And just like that, Lorne was as ready for his wedding as he could be.