Chapter 1 #2
Reason returns at last with a gust of exhaled breath. “No, please!” I cry. When the stranger doesn’t take his predatory eyes off the prince, I reach up and pluck at his sleeve to get his attention. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm!”
“Are you?” The stranger turns and fixes me with those void eyes of his.
My heart jolts to a stop, transfixed by that gaze. “Please,” I manage, pushing the words from my still-warm lips. “Please, put him down! I’m sure he saw us…you…when we were…and assumed…assumed…”
For the life of me, I can’t think how to finish. After all, Prince Taigan, coming upon us like that, probably assumed some assault of virtue was taking place. And he wasn’t wrong. Just not quite in the way he was thinking.
Heat erupts across my cheeks. In this moment, I could probably light up these dark caverns brighter than a freshly ensorcelled scintil. “I’m sure he was just trying to protect me,” I finish lamely. Gods on high, am I actually defending Taigan? Of all people?
The prince’s stare is fastened on me over the arm of his captor.
I cannot bear to meet it, not if my life depended on it.
I shift my gaze up to the stranger again.
A nearby scintil flickers across his features as I take my first good look at him.
Once one gets past the absolute massiveness of his shoulders and chest, the utter blackness of his eyes, there’s plenty to take in.
Like the scar that cuts through one eyebrow and trails just past the outer edge of his left eye.
It looks unsettlingly like a talon slash.
His skin is startlingly pale, almost to the point of sallow.
It’s the one flaw in an otherwise oddly perfect specimen.
Though perfect isn’t the right word, if I’m being honest. Everything about this man is built on a theme of power, not beauty.
His features are large and strong, his nose prominent, his jaw rock-solid.
The only thing that might be considered pretty about him is his mouth.
Those full lips, flushed and a little swollen by the aggressiveness of my unexpected kiss.
Why do my eyes keep going back to them?
Taigan is speaking again. With an effort, I drag my attention back to the prince, who struggles now in the stranger’s grasp. “You will give me satisfaction, sir!” he cries in a half-strangled voice. “Unhand me at once and face me like a man!”
The stranger’s gaze finally slides away from me and slices into the prince like two onyx blades.
“As I recall, it was you who provoked us. The lady and I were peacefully occupied before you so rudely inserted yourself. You had not even the courtesy to launch your attack on someone your own size. Tell me, do you prefer to manhandle women?”
“I wasn’t manhandling her!” Taigan snarls, his face almost purple with rage. “I was saving her!”
“From what?” The stranger smiles. It’s the deadliest expression I’ve ever seen. “From me?”
Oh gods. With a little shrug and a wriggle, I pull out from under the stranger’s arm. The air is oddly cold now that I’m no longer pressed against his side, and I struggle to find my balance. Find it I do, however, and glare up at the two men. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
“Indeed?” The stranger looks at me again, and I wonder if this is how a mouse feels when caught in the hypnotic gaze of the cat. “Tell me what I have misunderstood.”
My throat goes dry. I clear it with an effort. “Well, you see, I was…I didn’t want the prince to…” Now they’re both looking at me. Whatever explanations I’d half concocted evaporate from my brain. “Um…”
“Was this man bothering you?” the stranger demands.
“Bothering her?” Taigan’s eyes flash with righteous fury. “I’m not the one who assaulted her honor! Do you not realize who this is? She is Princess Roselle Pandracor!”
At the sound of that word—princess—my stomach cramps and my shoulders hunch. It makes me positively sick; I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.
Taigan, unaware of my reaction, continues relentlessly. “Go take your fun in a harlots’ den where the likes of you belong. The princess is far above the base cravings of your foul dreams!”
The stranger’s grip tightens on Taigan’s shirt as he lifts him a fraction of an inch higher. “You dare speak of such things in her presence?”
All right, this is starting to get ridiculous.
“It’s not as though I don’t know what a harlot is!” I snap, tossing up my hands. “I’m not some frail hothouse flower. I know things.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Gods above, is there any way to get out of this mess with my dignity intact?
Both men are looking at me now. To my horror, a knife has appeared in the stranger’s hand, half-hidden by his long sleeve.
The same hand which, moments before, had been wrapped around my waist. The prince has not yet noticed, but now that I see it, I cannot tear my gaze away.
A knife. A knife. Where in the fiery hells did it come from?
No one is supposed to carry weapons in Stromin Palace.
The house guards have their lances, of course, though this one seems to have forgotten his.
But a small, deadly blade like that is absolutely forbidden.
Even my dull little pocketknife, which was hardly sharp enough to use as a letter opener, was impounded at the barge docks.
But there’s no doubt about it. The stranger has a knife. And this moment, this very moment, is the one that will mark the difference between this whole debacle turning out all right with no one the worse for wear, or bloody murder being done right before my eyes.
I draw myself up straight. I may not be the princess everyone seems to think I am, but I’m not without my own unique set of skills.
Back home—back when I was just Rosie Harpwood, apothecary’s assistant, and had never heard of this Roselle Pandracor they keep going on about—I used to break up brawls between Mistress Iliyani’s demon-possessed tomcats, and that takes more courage than most people realize.
Cats are fickle beasts at the best of times; add possession into the mix, and you’ve got a tricky business.
But if I can handle Tiger and Shadow, I can certainly handle this stranger and a prince.
I’ll just imagine I’ve got a bucket of ice-cold holy water in hand. Easy.
“You.” I point to the stranger. “Put him down. Gently!” I add too late as he lifts Taigan fully off his feet before abruptly letting go of his shirt.
Taigan lands hard and staggers back several paces.
His hand automatically goes for his sword but finds an empty scabbard.
Even the champions’ weapons were confiscated.
Taigan curses viciously. I point my finger at him next.
“Now you. My honor is perfectly intact, if you please. I’ll thank you not to go around defending it unless I ask you to. ”
“But he was—”
“I kissed him.” My face erupts with heat again at the admission. I’m once more painfully aware of the stranger’s gaze upon me. “It was…an impulse. I get them sometimes.”
Taigan’s eyes narrow. “You get random impulses to kiss strangers?”
“It doesn’t happen often,” I answer through gritted teeth.
Then, with a shake of my head and a firm lift of my chin: “Never mind! My point is, there was no honor besmirching happening whatsoever. I’m fine; my honor is fine.
And I won’t have you making a fuss. Or following me back to my rooms either. ”
“Was this man following you?” the stranger asks sharply.
“No!” I realize my protest sounds rather stupid, but I’ve only just grasped a modicum of control, and I’m not about to release it. “What I mean is, I saw him coming, and I didn’t know if he was, following me that is, but…I…I…”
Taigan’s eyes burn into my face, hot as hellfire. There’s no getting out of this unscathed. Forget my honor; my reputation as a sane individual is done for.
“I want to make it clear,” I finish as calmly as I can, “that I will stand for no fighting in the halls over me. Thank you kindly, good sirs.”
Taigan and the stranger exchange glares. Taigan’s nostrils flare. He looks ready to burst into flame, whereas the stranger might have been cut from living stone. Finally, the prince snarls, “I won’t sully my honor brawling with men-at-arms. I’ll save my mettle for the tournament arena.”
“A sight we’ll all enjoy, no doubt,” the stranger answers darkly. I glance down at his hand only to see the knife has disappeared. I never saw him sheathe it. Perhaps it was never there at all. Perhaps I imagined it in the heat of the moment.
Taigan turns to me, offering his arm. “Come, Princess,” he says. “I will escort you back to your chambers.”
My eyes widen. I take a hasty step back. In the same moment, like a choreographed dance, the stranger glides forward, placing himself between the prince and me. “She does not wish to go with you.”
Taigan’s lip curls, teeth flashing in the scintil light. “And I suppose you think she’s better off with you?”
Oh gods. They’re going to start all over again, aren’t they? Just like those damn demon cats.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” I state firmly.
“With anyone.” It doesn’t escape my notice that this is exactly what I’ve been saying since that dark night when the soldiers of the High King rode into Gartsworth Village, all flashing armor, glinting swords, and royal decrees.
No one paid attention to my wishes then; I don’t have reason to believe they’ll start paying attention now.
But the stranger, his eyes still fixed on Taigan, growls softly, “You heard the lady.”
The prince’s expression radiates such venom, the stranger should be writhing on the ground in agonies right now.
When Taigan’s gaze swivels to meet mine, I can’t help flinching.
“Do not underestimate your value, Princess,” he says.
“It is the honor of every man in this court to guard and defend you. And I intend to prove myself worthy of the highest honor of all—to bind myself to your service for life.”
That same cold, creeping sensation I’d had last night comes over me. I know what he’s saying, what he’s implying. But I cannot let him know how it makes me feel. So, I merely offer a stiff nod and hold my tongue.
To my utmost relief, Taigan takes my silence as answer enough.
He casts one last infuriated glare at the stranger before turning on heel and storming off.
I listen to him muttering curses all the way back down the stairs and finally out of hearing range.
Leaving me alone in this deeply shadowed passage.
With the stranger I just forcibly kissed.