Chapter 4 #2
Back at her bed, she carefully opened the package and stared at the contents: a small jar labeled lip balm, a winter hat, gloves, and a bright blue scarf. The gifts were thoughtful things she needed.
The scarf and gloves were the softest things she’d ever held, and she lamented that she’d not be able to wear the gloves any time soon.
It might hurt Amelia’s feelings, and Amos would never know she hadn’t worn his.
Amelia’s gloves would wear out eventually, and when they did, she’d wear the pair from Amos.
Giddy, she put her new things away and sat at her desk to write him back.
Amos sat at the ostentatious dining table in his father’s palace, surrounded by drunk, laughing highborn men. His father sat at the head of the table with Janelle, his mistress since the queen died, on his lap.
Janelle was only twenty-one. Before becoming the king’s mistress, she’d been the queen’s lady’s maid. Alice didn’t say, but Amos knew she didn’t like the young woman.
Janelle had always been kind to him during the sporadic occasions they interacted. She used to have light blonde hair, but when she started working for the queen, she had dyed it dark brown. Her skin was a pale fawn color, and she wore pink stuff on her cheeks and lips.
Callum, the Mountain King and the only man not drunk, leaned over. “You look ready to strangle Merrick, son. Control your face.”
Amos slid his gaze to the Mountain King and nodded. Callum despised Amos’ father, but like Amos, he played a part well.
Months ago, Callum came to their kingdom. When other royals visited, Amos had to stand in his father’s office and learn how to be diplomatic. The Mountain King requested Phillip allow him access to the birth records for a girl named Amelia born on the same day as his son.
Every muscle in Amos’ body had locked up. He’d remembered from his conversation with Clover’s family that he shared a birthday with Prince Rennick. He’d known in his gut that Amelia was Rennick’s mate.
Amos had told Alice his suspicions, and she’d agreed, assuring him Callum was a good man and would be additional protection for his sister. She’d said Queen Charlotte had always liked Callum, too, and that had told Amos all he needed to know.
He’d had to tell Callum where his son’s mate was. The Mountain King wouldn’t think to check the Human Kingdom records because no human had ever been mated to a royal fae before. Royals were the only fae with mates, so it was easy to keep track of.
Alice had pretended to deliver tea to Callum’s room after dinner that night and had slipped a note from Amos on the tray.
That night, Amos had met with Callum and told him everything about Amelia.
The king had promised to help protect her in any way he could.
Ever since, the Mountain King had visited more often, pretending to be friends with Amos’ father.
And every visit, he and his familiar, a giant snow leopard with long fangs named Reyna, met with Amos in private.
At first, Amos had thought Callum just wanted updates on Amelia, but he’d rarely ask about her. Instead, he’d ask about Amos and how he was doing. He’d given him advice, and assured him when Amos was old enough to take the throne, he would assist Amos in eliminating his father if needed.
“Did you hear me, son?” Callum asked when Amos didn’t respond, too lost in his memories.
Amos schooled his face and nodded. “I thought I looked amused.”
Callum chuckled. “If that’s what you think amusement looks like, we have bigger problems.”
Shifting in his seat, he looked toward his father at the other end of the table. Since his mother’s death, Amos had claimed her old seat at the end of the table opposite his father. He was glad for it. The farther from that bastard, the better.
A pretty maid brought another round of ale, and Paul, the son of a highborn councilman, reached out, grabbed her dress over her backside, and yanked her toward him. “You forgot mine, sweetheart.”
She stumbled back, and a mug tumbled over the side. Paul’s father, seated beside him, took the majority of the spill and jumped up, swearing.
Amos knew what would happen next, and so did Callum. The Mountain King glanced at Amos and shook his head once. A warning: don’t do anything stupid.
They watched as Paul’s father’s sickly ivory skin turned red with anger. “You clumsy bitch,” Paul spat, handing his father a napkin.
The girl looked frantic, still holding her tray with other mugs, stammering that it wasn’t her fault. “He pulled back.”
Paul glared at her, and Amos knew she had made a dangerous enemy.
One of the waitstaff came running over with more napkins, another ran in with a broom to sweep up the broken glass, and the maid tried to finish passing out the ale.
The staff, including the girl, cleared out, and Amos breathed a sigh of relief. It was sad when someone being degraded and humiliated for an accident that wasn’t their fault brought relief. Depending on the mood of the men, sometimes the outcome was much worse.
“My apologies,” the king said with a sigh. “The girl is new and still in training.”
Paul’s father pushed in his chair. “Sometimes these women need a heavy hand to learn. You are a merciful king.” He bowed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to change.”
A merciful king. Amos’ lip curled.
“Easy,” Callum murmured.
Amos adjusted in his seat, wanting to leave, but he had the opportunity to gain the trust of his enemies. “May I teach her a lesson, Father?” He grinned cruelly. Callum knew his game and sat back, letting him play the role.
The king looked at him approvingly, and a few men chuckled. “Young and eager,” his father remarked. “You may.”
Amos smirked and stood, bidding the table goodbye before signaling for the butler at the door. “Send the girl to my room.”
A knock sounded on his door, and Amos threw it open, ushering the butler and girl inside. “You may leave,” he told the man.
The butler hesitated, shooting worried eyes at the young girl. “We already reprimanded her, Your Grace.”
“What’s your name?” he asked the butler.
The man blanched. “Henry.”
Making a mental note to add Henry to the good list, Amos smiled. “Thank you, Henry. That will be all.”
With a last withering look at the girl, the man left, and Amos motioned for the trembling girl to follow him away from the door. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The trembling didn’t stop. “What’s your name?”
“Lucy, Your Grace.” Her voice shook right along with her body.
“How old are you, Lucy?”
“Fifteen, Your Grace.”
His stomach dropped. He’d thought she was at least eighteen. “Listen closely. You put yourself in danger when you accused Paul of grabbing you.”
“But he did!” the girl insisted, tears streaming down her face. “I swear!”
“I know he did,” Amos agreed, “but you’re among monsters who don’t care about the truth, and it’s important you remember that.”
She cried harder. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
“Cry louder. I need them to think I’m hurting you.”
Her face screwed up with confusion, but she complied. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Beg me to stop.” Lucy, he thought, was an excellent actress.
“Keep going and follow me.” He opened the door to his room and slipped inside, closing the door loudly behind him. “You can stop.”
The girl lifted her apron and cleaned her face. “I don’t understand.”
“How does your family treat you?”
Her confusion grew. “Good. We lived in a small village right outside of the capital until my father got a better paying job here a month ago.” She sniffled.
That explains her ignorance of the way things worked here. The majority of the men in political positions of power were worse than most commoners, and being in the palace put Lucy in close proximity to a lot of them.
“We’re going to your house right now.” He stopped and eyed her dress. Reaching out, he tore her top down the middle and averted his eyes. She scrambled to hold the fabric together with wide eyes. “You need to cry when we leave and hold your dress together.”
Walking to his bedside table, he pulled out sacks of coin then grabbed her arm. “What direction is your home?”
She chewed on her lip. “I can show you once we’re out of the front courtyard gates.”
He gathered his daggers and whatever else he needed, forgoing his hat. There was no need for it at night, and he’d be back before dawn.
Amos led her through the palace by her upper arm and winked at the guards as he left. Two of them chuckled, but one looked away. He tried to memorize the men who laughed so he could find out their names later.
Once at Lucy’s house, she let them in, and a man Amos assumed was her father jumped up from an overstuffed chair. “What is this about?”
The man took in his daughter’s torn dress and started toward her, but pulled up short when Amos said, “I’m Amos Stratton, crown prince.”
A woman ran into the room, looked from Lucy to Amos and covered her mouth to muffle a cry.
“He didn’t hurt me,” Lucy said, trying to soothe them. “He tore my dress to make it look like he did.”
Her parents went from petrified to confused.
Amos nudged Lucy toward her mother. “We don’t have much time if we’re going to get you out of here before sunrise.”
“I don’t understand,” Lucy’s father mumbled, more to himself than Amos.
Amos relayed the story of what happened. “Lucy,” her mother gasped. “We told you to be careful around those men.”
“They tried to blame me—”
“Enough,” Amos cut them off. “There is a village to the far north, Dragon Village. I’m going to give you enough money to get you there. I’ve brought a map and the address and name of a family. I’ll write them a letter to let them know you’re coming.”
“You want us to leave our home?” the man asked. “I can’t leave my job.”
“You will if you want your daughter safe. She pissed off a powerful family tonight, and he will not let her go unpunished.”
Both parents looked at Lucy, who moved back closer to Amos. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and lowered her head.
“Do not apologize for the cruelty of others,” Amos told her.
“How old are you, Your Grace?” the mother asked.
He pulled himself to full height. “Fourteen.”
Her eyes flared. “You speak like a grown man.”
“Then listen to what I say.” He pulled the coin sacks out of his vest pockets and handed them to Lucy’s gaping father. “Do you have horses or a carriage?”
They were speechless for a moment, staring at the sacks of coins. “We have two horses,” the father said finally.
“Good. Pack up as much as you can and leave tonight. When you get to the next village, purchase a carriage and hire a driver. There is more than enough.”
They worked out a few more details before Amos moved toward the door. “If you don’t show up in Dragon Village, I will hunt you down and kill you both for putting her in danger.”
Both adults flinched as Amos slipped back into the night. He knew the Ambrose’s would help the family when they arrived.
The family would find asylum there while Amos returned to hell.