The Future Queen’s Captive (Hope & Home Duology #1)

Chapter 1

one

George and Isahn visit Sorhaven.

“Do you think something will finally happen tonight?” Burke asked for the third time in as many minutes.

George readjusted her cloak against the evening chill, wondering how Gramenia was so frigid when home was so warm. They’d only traveled west, not south. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

“If—”

“I swear to the gods, if you ask me one more question—”

“That was going to be an if/then statement.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, George dodged an old woman with a handcart, trying to outpace her friend.

Sorhaven was in the middle of a shift change as the day came to a close.

Farmworkers headed home, shopkeepers closed up, and pubs opened for dinner service, calling in customers with bold signage and busty barmaids.

Despite being secure amidst the throng of pedestrians, George had thrown up the mildest of disguises as they neared town, her nose slightly elongated, her hair a little less curly.

It was nothing that would tax her well of power, but enough that someone giving her a passing look wouldn’t recognize her.

She didn’t expect anyone here to know what the Princess of Domos looked like—aside from her father’s spies—but those two could pop up at any time.

“I’m just making sure we’re doing this right.” Burke’s boots smacked the pavers as he matched her pace.

George’s irritation softened. “It’s taking a while, but we are.

” Their tracking journey had everyone on an edge that grew ever sharper the longer they were away from the palace.

But Gianis and Marinos had stayed put for three days, which was odd and a good sign.

“They’re waiting for someone or something, and we need to know what. ”

“To figure out what your father’s planning.”

“Obviously.” Her patience only extended so far. That was essentially a question, and one he knew the answer to.

Rounding a corner near the inn where Hildy stood watch, George tugged Burke’s arm, slowing his speed. “It’s not like we’re ready yet, anyway. Moving too early is how we do it wrong.”

Burke chuckled, elbowing her in the side. “You’re the queen of acting too early—the Princess of Impulsivity.”

She bit back a laugh and pulled him toward the shadowed alley across from the inn.

There, set back from the street lights, Hildy’s curls poked up from behind a barrel, and Dunstan stood visible from the waist up.

A wide smile lit his face as he laughed in silence, shielded by Hil’s sound magic, or George surely would’ve heard him booming.

“Why is he here? I thought he was getting food,” Burke grumbled.

Oh, here we go. George could practically hear the jealousy dripping from his words. This time last year, Hildy was sleeping with Burke. Now she’d turned her attention to Dunstan. She’d swing back eventually. She always did.

“He’s here because I wanted company,” Hildy replied, popping the sound barrier she’d erected around their conversation.

“I thought we were doing watches alone?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Hildy’s tricep tightened as she pressed a thumb into her temple and turned to George. “There hasn’t been any action. I’m going to get food for the cottage. See you back there.”

“I can—” Dunstan started.

“No. I’ve got it. See you soon.”

As Hil disappeared into the crowd, George turned to find the men ignoring each other and Burke smirking at the dirt.

Wonderful. Whatever was happening between those three this week, she didn’t have the energy to sort it out.

The lack of space in the cottage they’d co-opted was only driving tensions higher.

The family who’d lived there was all too happy to hand over their home in exchange for the copious amount of gold she’d offered.

George only meant it to be a rental and said they were welcome to return in a week’s time, but the family declined, already set on relocating to the coast.

Now she owned a home in Gramenia. Fun. Maybe she could leave her bickering friends behind.

Dunstan cleared his throat. “Gianis and Marinos are still in their inn. I’m going for a pint.” He swung his long arm out and gestured at a disheveled-looking establishment across the street and a few buildings down.

“I’ll come with you,” Burke announced jovially, apparently over his sour mood. “Georgie, you want one?”

“Please.”

Alone, George claimed Hildy’s old spot against the wall and rolled her neck, wishing Gianis and Marinos would do something and make her journey worth the stress. Her father sent them away for a reason. He didn’t waste those spies on meaningless errands.

Theories and a hope that Hildy would find some good crusty bread rolled around George’s mind while guests popped in and out of the inn across the way.

Eventually, her efforts paid off when Gianis stepped out, his red tunic catching lamplight.

Marinos followed, dressed in blue, and they met on the road, facing her way, their heads bent together in quiet conversation.

Tensing, George pressed herself against the wall and added to her mirage, lengthening her nose, and lightening her hair to a walnut brown.

Her father’s spies turned north, and she prepared to follow at a distance—until Gianis lifted his chin at the crummy pub that had swallowed her friends.

“Deiwa nekami,” George swore softly.

Shoving out a burst of touch magic—sharp and urgent—she hoped she could reach Dunstan’s left knee in their agreed-upon signal for “danger incoming.” A ripple flowed back through her magic when she made contact with—something.

Hopefully Dunstan. Then an invisible sucker punch landed itself on her upper arm, and George smirked.

It was close enough to a tap on her inner elbow—their sign for “all good.” She’d gotten her point across.

It was too bad she wasn’t inside with her friends, so she could disguise them all while they grabbed a table to listen in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be.

Pausing before the alley entrance and blocking her view of the pub, a nervous-looking older man, pale, with ruddy cheeks and a bulging belly, tugged his purple jacket and looked around with twitchy motions. Crossing the road, he wandered toward the same pub.

Like she was watching a bad theatrical performance in slow motion, another man slid to a stop before the alleyway, blocking her view. George inhaled slowly, warning herself not to say anything as the new arrival turned and light caught his face.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with astoundingly fair skin and shaggy brown hair, everything about him looked out of place in Gramenia.

And everything about him was handsome. She flushed, eyes roaming over his strong thighs clad in tight tan pants before returning to his profile and his strong jaw, its outline just visible through his scruffy beard—a lighter color than the hair on his head.

He turned away, and she blatantly watched his ass as he continued up the street. At the shoddy pub, he stopped, pulled up his hood, and slipped through the entrance, too.

The pleasant warmth in George’s stomach cooled. He’s with them—too suspicious not to be.

Before she could hope that Dunstan and Burke were smart enough to stay inside and listen in, her friends emerged from an alley across the way, beelining toward her with pints in hand.

“We got out!” Burke grinned, clearly proud of the quick exit. He handed George a mug of brown ale. “Side door. But we saw Gianis and Marinos come in, and some fat guy joined them.”

“Did they see you?” Not taking her eyes off the pub, she watched the hooded man slide into a seat near the window, the other seats at his table invisible from her angle.

“No,” Dunstan answered, joining her behind the barrel.

“I wish you’d stayed in there,” George muttered before taking a sip of her drink. “I still think we have an opportunity.”

“What am I missing?” Burke asked.

“Two men followed Gianis and Marinos inside. Out of place. The chubby older guy went first, alone. Then a second man, taller, bearded, probably our age, followed. He could be a guard or part of the meeting.”

“Maybe he’s just a patron,” Dunstan suggested. “It was busy.”

George glared. “They were out of place. I promise.”

Dunstan dropped his chin in deference.

“What do we do?”

“As much as I want to mirage us and walk right into the pub, we wait,” George decided, meeting Dunstan’s eye even though Burke asked the question. “Then we talk to one of them and find out what they know.”

They didn’t have to wait long.

Gianis and Marinos emerged first and went straight to their inn.

“Boring,” Burke grumbled, earning a snort from Dunstan.

George would’ve gone with “too risky,” but “boring” worked too.

Their pints were half gone by the time the tubby man stepped out, swaying slightly as he made his way up the street.

“Drunk already?”

“Or he wants to seem it. Follow him,” George countered, sending Burke on his way. “Circle back and let us know where he goes.”

The bearded man stayed behind. Hood still up, barely visible through the grimy glass, he nursed a drink.

“He might not be with them,” Dunstan offered, watching the same scene unfold.

“I don’t know. The way he scanned the street before going in, the way he pulled up his hood. We didn’t have ears on the conversation, but I bet he did.”

Dunstan offered an unconvinced grunt as he twisted his locs atop his head and tied them into a bun. “Can't trust a man with a beard.”

Biting back a laugh, George knew she almost had him convinced.

Burke returned, joining them in the shadows and making an exaggerated gagging sound. “He was actually drunk. He’s staying at that fine inn up the road.”

“The last man it is,” Dunstan replied.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Burke asked as the bearded man stood from his seat.

“Here we go,” George murmured.

Running a palm over his beard, the man emerged from the pub and paused to get his bearings. He headed off in the same direction as the first.

Definitely connected.

“We should follow him,” Burke offered.