“You—you requested the prisoner be brought to you,” Scores said.
Another moment of silence, then, “And so you beat her?”
“I thought she had offended—”
Quicker than lightning, the prince thrust forward his hand. The lieutenant, as if seized by the throat, lifted into the air, although no physical contact was made. Power radiated the room, and I cringed.
A magician. A hiss issued from my lips as magic pulsed through the air. I took an automatic step back, my adrenaline firing, but could not look away. How much could he sense?
Muscles rippled in his jaw. Anger infused the prince’s words. “If I’d been offended, I wouldn’t need someone like you to do my dirty work for me, would I?”
Then the energy released, and Scores crashed to the ground. He wrapped a hand around his neck and coughed, his voice rasped. “No, sir. Forgive me, sir.”
The prince whipped around. “Captain!”
Not even a second passed before the large oak door opened. The man—if you could call him that—must have been listening from outside, awaiting his orders. A beast of hulking muscles and ink, he entered the room, making the space a little too crowded. I instinctively took another step back.
A magician and a giant.
He smirked, catching the movement. His eyes pinned me to the spot, stopping any further retreat. Blood drew to my cheeks. Shaved close on the sides and back like his prince, his blond hair pulled tight into a pony-tail, exposing a high forehead and severely cut jawline. A tattoo crawled down the side of his neck and disappeared beneath his black, leather jerkin.
“Yes, sir,” the giant said. His voice rumbled within his throat.
“Mikael, Lieutenant Scores is relieved from duty.”
Scores stuttered. “But—but, sir!”
“Make sure he’s reassigned somewhere far away, with no option for promotion. Find an appropriate replacement among your men. And send for Sameen.”
Mikael stifled a laughed. “Yes, sir. Come with me, Scores.”
Scores’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, the blood draining from his face.
“You’re all dismissed,” the prince said, his tone an icy warning.
Bowing, Scores and his men trailed after Mikael.
The prince considered me from across the room, then walked to his desk, giving me the ability to study him unabashed. He was young. Probably no more than twenty. And he was handsome. No, that was the wrong word. He was breathtaking—which meant only one thing: he was dangerous.
He drank from a crystal goblet. The skin of his throat and hands were favorably tanned, unlike so many of the nobles of my kingdom. Eira’s harsh climates kept most indoors. Even those with dark skin paled in the lack of sun. His gaze found mine before I could lower my eyes to my hands. Did he expect me to speak? I clamped my mouth even tighter.
He set his cup down with a clank. Then, producing a knife from the holster at his belt, he sliced a chunk of bread from the loaf, but he did not eat. “Please,” he said, gesturing to a chair on the other side of his desk. I did not move until he put away his blade.
The prince noticed.
Even though my legs shook with fatigue I wavered, wary to sit across from a being that was both a prince and a magician. I perched at the edge of my seat, ready to make my escape if necessary. My gaze flashed to the cracked window.
Prince Castiel’s head tipped to one side as he inspected me, curiosity brimming in those strange blue eyes.
Unexpectedly conscious of my appearance, I pawed at my dark hair, but gave up when my fingers caught in a tangled, greasy mess. I peered down at my ragged prison gown, bruised ankles, and dirty, black-encrusted toenails.
“You must be hungry,” he said, gesturing to the bread. “Go ahead.”
I didn’t wait for another invitation. I snatched the cut piece and took a bite. The king of Anolyn didn’t starve his prisoners like Eira’s did, but this wasn’t stale or full of weevils, and my taste buds zinged to the mouthwatering flavor. For the briefest moment, I wondered if I should be worried it was poisoned, but the next bite smothered the fear. It was the best tasting thing I had ever had and well worth dying for.
“Careful,” the prince cautioned. “You don’t want to make yourself sick.”
I swallowed, chewing slower.
Again, he watched me, waiting until I finished the last bite. My eyes dropped to the remaining loaf, but he pulled the plate out of reach. “You can have the rest later.” He leaned back, resting his chin on steepled fingers. “You’ve created quite a stir as of late, did you know that?”
My head shot up and my heart quickened, but I didn’t answer.
One eyebrow raised. “We’ve been waiting for some time for you to make your move, but three months and… absolutely nothing.” He sighed again, then picked up a folder from his desk, searching through the contents. “You’ve only ever been seen in battle, so you were almost unrecognizable without your usual attire.”
My voice rasped. “Please, Your Highness—”
“So, you know who I am?” He picked up another folder and thumbed past a few pages. Heat rose to my face as I speculated just what condemning documents he was searching through.
I swallowed. “Of course. All your loyal subjects do. You are Prince Castiel Anouk of Anolyn.”
“And so that is who you are? A loyal subject?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
He paused, stroking the line of his sharp chin with his fingers. “That’s an interesting lie. But I’m pleased you know who I am. It makes things a lot easier.” His eyes narrowed as he considered me. “I couldn’t believe it at first. The Scourge of Men right here in my very own home. I wonder if you think I should be honored.”
I barely contained my surprise. “There is no such person, and even if there was, that title is not mine.”
His tone was like ice. “Why did you attack a soldier?
“He attacked me.”
“You failed to provide any sort of identification.”
“I didn’t know I needed any.” I could feel his fingers tighten around my throat like a vise, but knew it was just my imagination.
His fist slammed on the top of his desk. I hid a responding jolt, my insides lurching.
“Anyone traveling outside of their community where they will not be recognized must have the proper paperwork.” His face softened. A smile tipped one side of his mouth. “But it’s alright. That has been rectified.”
He selected a page from his folder then lightly tossed it away. It fluttered to the table top in front of me and I froze.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“There’s your paperwork.” He smiled. “Now that we both know each other, you can stop the charade, Your Highness.”
I licked my dry lips. “My lord, please,”
“Princess Ilianna Drakara, daughter to the fallen Prince Toma, and the only living relative to King Johan Drakara. You have been offered as a mate to my brother, which is why he sent us this lovely depiction of you to persuade him into matrimony, along with lists describing your many attributes.” One brow ticked high on a smooth forehead. “I must say I was impressed to hear you are such a fine dancer on top of being a fearless warrior.”
My face flushed an even deeper shade of red. It took everything I had not to grab the papers from his hands.