27. Killian
KILLIAN
Killian spotted a line of horses tethered outside Brodies, each sporting the Dagon crest on their bridles. “Fucking great,” Killian mumbled. All travelers stopped at Brodie’s.
Should have known—should have prepared for more bullshit today.
Killian knew the Dagon guards would search for the princess eventually, but he didn’t expect his father to piece it together that quickly. His chest tensed. It’s for the best.
Straightening his spine, Killian strode along the dirt path to grab lunch and question as many people as he could about Princess Elora.
Time was ticking, and he needed concrete intel to begin his pursuit.
But with those Dagon fuckers hogging the oxygen in the tavern, he may not be able to question as many people as he thought.
He opened the tavern doors with a single push, his gaze wrenched to the guards sitting at the bar drinking ale.
Those greasy Dagon fucks turned to stare at Killian.
Fuck. Those. Bastards.
Now that he had a better look at them, he recognized them as the same guards that threw him against the stone cold wall. Avoiding eye contact, he slid into the seat next to them to eavesdrop.
Brodie approached, sliding a glass of water to him.
Killian gripped the cold drink. “Thanks. Can I place an order?” He hardly heard himself with the couple arguing in the back.
“I saw you with that bitch last night!”
“Keep it down Karen, fuck. I wasn’t cheating on you!”
Killian itched his earlobes, tuning them out.
Brodie nodded, glancing toward his uninvited guests. “Are we getting food?”
Killian held up four fingers. “Roast Beef.”
“Shit ton of horseradish on yours?” Brodie asked knowingly, cocking a brow.
“On the side this time.” Killian’s cheeks stained.
Shit ton? Killian blew out a breath, his shoulders slumping. Riggs is an asshole.
Brodie snapped his fingers, pointing at him, and angling his head to the side. “Dip the cheese in au jus as well?”
“Yes.” Killian’s eyes gleamed. “I like the way it melts the cheese, it’s a whole other experience. You must try it soon.”
Brodie laughed. “You Whitlock men are weird; but yeah, I will.” A small nod. “Just for you.” He winked, strolling toward the kitchen.
Killian kept his head down, keeping an ear on the guard’s conversation.
“I don’t know if I’d ever come back here. Too many trees. My allergies are acting up.”
Killian blew out a breath in an exaggerated huff. Give me a fucking break.
Killian heard nothing of value for the first ten minutes, and his patience was starting to wane.
Until…
“She couldn’t have gotten far,” the square-faced one grumbled.
The fat, sweaty guard spoke next, “We would have found her already, don’t you think so?”
Another chimed in, “She would have died in that swamp…no place for a princess out there.” A grunt. “Hell, we’re wasting time…lots of it too…the bigger problem is that damn beast keeps returning back to town.”
Killian toyed with his beard, twisting strands. Beast?
“Dagon will go down without defense. The king already lost half his guards for Princess Elora, and now he’s willing to surrender the rest.”
A fist slammed onto the bar top, the wood rattling. “There’s something the queen and king ain’t telling us.”
“How do these girls just vanish like that?”
“Something fishy is stirring, and I can smell it rotting. Even Rutherford knows something we don’t…”
Killian’s lip curled at the name.
Rutherford.
“It’s been eight years since the first one went berserk, and just when we thought someone came and kidnapped her. Now I’m starting to think there’s more to this story.”
“I heard that the maid lady had something to do with Princess Esemeray. She’s locked in that dungeon, silent as a mouse. I wouldn’t put it past her. Same’s probably true for Princess Elora.”
“Oh, the tiny redhead? With the big tits? I’ll take care of the dungeon girl—see if I can’t make that little mouse start squeaking.”
Killian’s jaw ticked. Piece of shit.
“Drop it, Argus; you know what Rutherford will do to you if he caught you looking at the prisoner? He has zero tolerance for that shit.”
Killian’s hand bunched. Argus. He glanced at him, taking satisfaction in the wounds he left on his face and the splint around his thigh. He nearly grinned.
“You think it had to do with her marrying that prince? I mean, if I had to marry that prissy looking bitch, I’d run away too. Hell. I wouldn’t even want to fuck ’em.”
Killian’s forehead creased. Wait…oh, that’s right…
The night Killian had been arrested, the king had made an announcement.
Must have slipped my mind.
Does Riggs know?
Killian reached into his pocket and wrote notes for his wall of crazy—a project he’d start tonight.
If she was to marry, it would be a hell of a reason to escape the castle.
One of them groaned, whistling toward Brodie for a refill. “Let’s move. We passed out the letters, and there’s no sign of her here.”
“You heard the captain; he told us not to return until she is found.”
How long are they staying around town?
One of the guards banged his fist down. “Fuck this village; they have shit ale and the wine is sweeter than a fucking plum.”
Killian’s face heated at the insult of his mother’s wine. He stood, his hands forming a fist, and stared down the guards. “Have a problem with the wine?”
The guards laughed, sounding like wild animals. The one closest to Killian was heavy set, bald, and had yellow-stained teeth. The other two looked younger and haggard. They were all in desperate need for a bath and a shave.
These were the “heroes” of Dagon sent to retrieve the princess?
The bigger one out of the five said, “Look at this tough guy! Who the fuck are you?”
“Killian Whitlock, you got a problem with the wine?” he asked again.
“I thought you looked familiar.” The younger guard pointed toward Killian. “You were the one who was sentenced not long ago. What are you doing? Don’t you have a princess to find?”
“I’m working on it.” Killian bared his teeth. “Though I could say the same to you.”
The guards all wailed, pounding their fists on the bar top.
Drunk bastards. Killian growled in annoyance.
“Enough. Leave.” Brodie warned, pointing toward the door. “Now!”
“Let’s get out of here, Argus; fuck this town.” They all stood up. One of them slammed a few coins on the worn wood while the older bald one turned around, and said, “Oh, and fuck you too.”
Killian forced himself to sit back down.
Gripping his glass, he inhaled deep into his chest, attempting to calm himself.
He could have taken them all down, if he wanted.
But he couldn’t cause a scene at Brodie’s.
It was a blessing Brodie still let him come here after…
Killian turned, staring at the patched hole.
His stomach sank. He hardly remembered that night.
Couldn’t even feel sorry for the man’s soul he took.
To him, it was just a story—a sad, fucked up story.
“You good?” Brodie asked, throwing a towel over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” Killian nodded. “Good.”
The tavern doors slammed as they walked out, the lunch crowd silent as they looked at Killian.
Killian’s face turned crimson as he muttered, “Bastards.”
“Princess Elora…” a croaky male voice murmured beside him. Killian assessed the older male. He was missing a hand and his teeth were rotten to the bone.
“What do you know about the princess?”
The man huffed. “I know she’s impossible to find.
I searched for her long after the trail had gone cold.
” He held up his arm, the scar brutal and discolored.
“I lost my hand over it.” The man sipped his ale slowly, his eyes unfocused.
“Whatever you do, whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t do it.
It ain’t worth your life. That girl is dead. ”
Killian scrunched his face. “You saw a body?”
“Nope. But the kingdom needs to host their funeral and move on.”
Killian was hit with his rotting breath and fought the urge to plug his nose at the smell. “I don’t have a choice. What information can you give me?”
The old male turned toward Killian. “I went up north to Theradonia to track her.” The man went silent, rubbing his jaw.
“I thought I was tracking her, turns out it was the damn wolves.” He chuckled low.
“Lycans. Those fuckers are ruthless. Turns out they were tracking me.” His thin lips tilted in a crooked smile.
The man was missing an eye and had scars running down his face. He had been lucky to survive. Killian grunted, taking in the information, and scribbling it down. “Why were you tracking them? What indicators made you think it had been the princess?”
The man slipped a laugh. “There was a girl, about the same age as the princess at the time, but I was wrong. They played me. The princess is no wolf.” He huffed another laugh.
“There are no magical beings in Dagon. The king will kill anything possessing a drop of magic. I’ve seen what they did to my friend, fucking sliced his head right off his shoulders.
” The man gulped his ale, slamming the glass down.
Killian’s mind spiraled, his vision blurring. Things were not adding up. He knew the king killed magical beings, but why did his daughters exhibit magic?
They had to have known…right?
“Theradonia?” Killian asked, his leg restless against the floor.
Theradonia was the largest continent known to man. It was the coldest place in Razareth, and overrun by wolves. He’d always wanted to see it, at least once in his life, Layalara talked about it all the time.
“Don’t go there unless you want your dick bitten off.”
Killian winced, drumming his fingers along the wood.
Did the wolves take his dick too?
“I do not have a choice, but the girl you tracked—she matched the description of the princess?”
The man nodded, looking over his shoulder before glancing back at Killian. “Blonde hair, blue eyes.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Mark my words, Mr. Whitlock, you will die. It is a fool’s mission.”
Chills spread throughout his arms with the promise in his voice.
Killian descended the steps of the tavern.
He needed to speak with Conwell one last time.
Maybe today he will talk. As Killian walked down the row of cells, he spotted Conwell’s red hair and freckles in the corner of the holding facility.
Luckily for Killian, Brodie hadn’t shipped Conwell off to Sulu City where all prisoners eventually ended up. He had delayed the jail wagon for him.
Good friend.
“Not you again,” Conwell groaned, his hair reflecting the dim lighting. “Sad to see your brother couldn’t make it. What a sight he is.” He waved his hands downward. “You’re too grumpy, and no fun.”
Killian approached the bars. “I have a question for you.”
Conwell gripped the bars, his face covered in filth. “Get me out of here and I will answer anything you want, hotshot.”
Killian smirked. “I don’t have the keys,” he lied.
Conwell winked, then flipped Killian off. “Then how about you go fuck yourself.”
Killian reached for his finger, but Conwell reeled back faster than lightning. “Too slow.”
Killian crossed his arms. “Cut the shit, Conwell. How do you know the queen’s handmaiden? What’s your connection to Dagon?”
Conwell laughed. “Here’s the thing, you will never know—” He gripped the iron, attempting to shake himself out. “Unless you get me out of this fucking cage.”
Killian took one step closer. “What were you planning on doing that night at the castle? Why was the queen’s handmaiden bringing you clothes?” He cocked a brow. “She mentioned you were her husband. Can you at least verify that?”
Conwell raised his palm. “One question at a time. Slow down there.”
“Should I say it slower? Are you incompetent?”
Conwell raised a brow. “Would you believe I occasionally fuck her?”
Killian fumed. “No, not a chance. She seemed uneasy, like she was hiding something, running out of time, or both.”
“What can I say?” Conwell sucked on a tooth. “She misses my dick in her mouth, and I come rather quickly. Plus, we didn’t have much time to begin with.”
“Do you even have a dick?” Killian trailed his eyes down toward Conwell’s crotch, pointedly raising a brow before meeting his shocked stare. “I doubt it.”
Conwell waved him off. “I already told you I was invited to the party.”
“Let me tell you something, Conwell, I don’t believe a word you say.
You think you’re clever? You think you’re smart?
Think again. You’re just a turd behind bars about to get shipped to Sulu City to shovel horse shit day in and day out.
” Killian bared his teeth. “I’ll strike a deal with you.
I will tell my friend Brodie to reconsider if—” He held up a single finger. “You answer just one question.”
Conwell’s lips curved. “Just one?”
“Just one,” Killian said, waiting for his answer.
Silence fell heavy between them.
Conwell chewed his lip. “Alright, fine. I was headed there… I was headed there…” He grimaced. “You know what? I forgot why I was headed there. Sorry. Guess I cannot help you.”
Killian slammed his eyes shut, his fists tightening. “How do you know the queen’s handmaiden?”
“C’mon, open your pretty little eyes. I like to look at who I am speaking to.”
Killian’s eyes flew open. He motioned between himself and Conwell and huffed. “Help me, help you.”
“You know, I love that saying, but I just…gods… I cannot remember why I was going in the first place.” He rubbed his head, his gaze sharp in the dark.
“I think I hit my head when you tackled me down.” Conwell smirked.
“Guess you will never know!” He flicked the bars, covered his ears and sang loudly.
“You piece of shit!” Killian shouted.
For the first time in a long while, Killian let his temper slip.
He unlocked the cell door and charged at Conwell. “You pissed me off!” He wrapped his arms around Conwell’s neck, slamming him to the ground.
“Come on, big boy, show me what you got,” Conwell said, choking between each word.
Grunting, Killian pinned him to the floor with his legs, keeping a firm grip around his neck, and swung, his fist crashing against skull. Grabbing a fist full of hair, Killian yanked Conwell’s head back, driving it toward the ground to smash his fucking?—
Yellow light spilled throughout the cell, and then Killian was flying up, his back crashing into the ceiling.
Stone crumbled on impact, Killian screamed, fire spreading down his spine, down his legs.
Conwell had magic.
Killian’s mistake.
And then Killian was falling, his face smacking hard against stone.
Lights out.