Chapter 29 James #2
The soldiers all smirked but James said nothing.
William was being used as a puppet by Alexandra, and while she no doubt did it for his sake, James feared what would be done in his brother’s name.
William had his weaknesses, but he didn’t deserve to be manipulated.
As for Cardiff, James had no doubt that his family there was also at risk.
How long until Alexandra put an end to the hard-won peace he’d fought to achieve?
How long until the burnings resumed, the border closed, and the hatred rose hot as ever?
How much worse would it be with Alexandra in control?
And what could James do about it if he escaped?
All his authority, all the respect accorded to him, had been because his father and siblings had demanded it.
Now his father was dead. Alexandra hated him.
And if what Lestara said was true, then William’s sentiments toward him were also badly tarnished.
James knew he deserved his brother’s ire, but the very real consequence was that even if he returned to Harendell to shout the truth of Alexandra’s treachery, William might not listen.
And it likely wouldn’t be long until James met a knife in a dark alley and said nothing at all.
The soldiers were examining his wrists, which were bruised and scabbed from the ropes around them.
After a muttered exchange about how the wounds would foul if they got worse, they set to shoving fabric beneath the bindings and then dragged him over to a horse, fastening his leash to the animal’s saddle.
“Good luck, bastard,” the grizzled Amaridian muttered, then climbed on the horse and urged it into a trot.
After that, James could spare no thought for anything beyond staying on his feet.
The snow fell heavily, thick fluffy flakes that piled higher and higher on the trail.
Wind whipped through the pines, turning his face and hands to ice even as the rest of him dripped sweat.
Sweat that turned to ice whenever they slowed the horses to give them a rest, his whole body swiftly racked with shivers as the cold bit down to his bones.
Just keep running, James ordered himself. Just stay on your feet until dusk.
It would only be another few days of travel until they were low enough in altitude that the snow turned to rain, but every minute felt like eternity as his feet betrayed him. As he tripped and fell, dragged onward by the horse while the piles of snow threatened to smother him.
The tension on his wrists eased and James pushed himself up to find that the grizzled soldier had stopped his horse.
“Deadfall on the trail, sir,” he called back. “We’ll have to clear it.”
Carlo didn’t answer, only continued singing, his voice drifting through the falling snow like a murderous lullaby.
A soldier draped a blanket around James’s shoulders and then shoved a waterskin into his hands. He drank greedily between panted breaths.
“I need to relieve myself.”
James stopped drinking at Ahnna’s voice, the first time he’d heard it in what felt like an eternity.
Carlo made a noise of disgust, then shouted, “One of you take her into the bushes. I want none of this.”
Two soldiers pulled Ahnna off Carlo’s lap and escorted her into the brush. James heard one of them say, “Just tie her to a tree while she does her business,” then a muttered argument.
It was hard to see them through the brush, but James knew their backs were to Ahnna.
He tensed, certain she had a plan. Certain he’d see her figure racing away into the trees.
But a few moments later, the soldiers returned with Ahnna between them.
Her shoulders were slumped, every part of her exuding defeat, and his heart twisted.
Carlo stared at her with disgust, and as the soldiers moved to lift her into the saddle, the Beast drew back his foot and kicked Ahnna in the face.
She screamed and fell to the ground, sobbing in pain.
Despite knowing his reaction was what the man wanted, James hurled himself at them. The ropes binding him went taut, jerking him off his feet, and he screamed threats and profanities, unable to control the rage in his heart.
“You are a joy, James,” Carlo crooned. “You’ll die before you break. Unlike her.”
He spat on Ahnna’s back, then heeled Dippy forward. “Someone else take the woman. I’ve lost interest.”
Ahnna lay crying in the snow, and she remained limp as the men hauled her up and loaded her onto one of the horses.
James tried to catch her eye, certain that this was nothing but a ploy to put distance between her and the Beast. Except when their gazes locked, hers held no hate, only despair.
She rested her cheek against the mountain horse’s neck, body shaking with sobs.
“Disappointing, isn’t it?”
James slowly turned to find that the prince had taken hold of his leash and was fastening it to Dippy’s saddle.
“You thought she was better than this, yes? Stronger? Yet the truth of her circumstances has entirely destroyed her will to live.” Carlo’s expression held no cheer as he said, “You deserve better than her, my old friend. I have shown you the truth.”
“What truth is that?”
“That there is a reason the Ithicanians gave their princess to Harendell.” Carlo urged Dippy onward. “Ahnna Kertell is worth nothing.”
She’s worth everything to me. It was the last thought James had on the matter, because a heartbeat later, the rope was dragging him down the trail.