Page 11 of The Crownless Prince

“Either way,” Owen said with an irritated frown, “I heard from a man who heard it from a knight who heard it from Prince Jairus Fainehimself that a fae blessed the Faines to rule Aedyllan for all time. Though some say there’s some curse or prophecy that says their reign will end if somethin’ specific happens, but I say if that were true, the king wouldn’t let a soul know about it. But everybody says the Faines are fae-blessed now.”

Did the fae actually possessthatmuch power? That was sobering. If this story was true, when had it occurred? Perhaps if Arlius Alimer had known, he would have been motivated to pursue peace with Mortimer instead of causing his own death. Although a man secure in a fae blessing that he would rule a kingdom might not be easy to reason with. It was also possible Arliushadheard and attacked out of fear.

“What of the rest of the Alimer family?” Edwin asked quietly, speaking the question Marcus couldn’t bring himself to utter. “Prince Arlius’s sons and sister and nieces and nephew?”

“All dead,” Helen declared with ringing finality that pricked at Marcus’s weary heart. “How could Mortimer declare himself king otherwise?”

“Well, ’cept mayhap the youngest princeling.” Owen shrugged. “But reckon he’ll starve in that cursed tower without supplies.”

“Be what he deserves, the coward,” Helen spat.

Marcus fumbled his spoon, almost dropping it. He forced down a bite of bread that had turned to clay in his mouth. “What’s this?”

“Oh, you’ve been away that long?” Owen whistled. “About…oh, four years ago, now, Prince Arlius locked his youngest son in a tower in the valley near here for refusing an arranged marriage.”

Helen sniffed. “Some folks thought the truth was that PrinceMarcus didn’t agree with whatever trouble his father was stirring up in Nydellan; others said he wanted to make peace with Faine. But you know what I think? He was a coward who claimed peace but did nothin’, and as a result, he spent this war safe in a tower away from all the fightin’ and dyin’.

“You tell me”—she jabbed a finger toward Marcus—“if you were the prince and you’d known the Alimers were inciting a rebellion in Nydellan, and you really wanted peace, wouldn’t you warn Prince Uldrich? Or alert Prince Mortimer? Or agree to the marriage but leverage the union for peace? If Prince Marcus opposed what his father was doing, why’d he let himself get locked up in a tower to be useless? If his goal was peace, like some folks said, he did a miserable job of it.”

Owen scratched his chin. “Not sure if he could’a stopped it, though. Those princes had been movin’ toward war for a decade or more. Far’s I’ve heard, that young prince was the only one what ever wanted to cooperate with the other princes, rather than covetin’ a throne.”

“Bah.” Helen pushed to her feet. “I think he feared war more than he wanted peace, so he chose a tower over a marriage.” With a dismissive wave, she headed back to the kitchen.

Cold crept over Marcus. He stuck his spoon in his bowl, leaving the last few bites of soup and bread, and leaned back, his appetite gone. How many times had he wondered if he should do something more, only to convince himself that it wouldn’t have worked…

A memory forced its way into his consciousness. He was sixteen, and he’d just returned from Prince Mortimer’s autumn hunt, where he’d met Adriana—and where he hadn’t been supposed to go.

“Fool of a boy! I told you we weren’t going!” His father’s face turned red from the force of his shouting.

Marcus slouched further into his chair at the head table in the great hall, wishing his hair wasn’t braided so he could let it fall over his face and hide him from the entire castle’s residents currently assembled for dinner—and all staring at him.

He drew a steadying breath. “I thought—”

“Are you trying to undermine me?” his father demanded. “Betray me to Faine?”

“N-no!”

His eldest brother, Fabian, snorted. “As if he’s either clever or brave enough for that.”

“I just want peace,” Marcus whispered.

“What was that?” His father leaned around his second eldest son as he glared at Marcus. “Speak up!”

“Something about peace,” Linus scoffed. “Why should we want peace, then, Marcus? Wouldn’t uniting Aedyllan under Father as king bring peace? What’s so great about the Faines since you’ve been consorting with them?” As Father settled back into his own chair, Linus swept his hand out at the crowd. “You have a captive audience. Convince us.”

Heat flamed over Marcus’s face, and his throat closed up. What could he say? That he’d befriended Princess Adriana, and she seemed like a good person? That Mortimer cared about his family and therefore must be good, too? No, this was his chance to make a point of how a war would hurt Aedyllan and cause so much unnecessary deathfor so little gain. He could talk about his idea of strengthening relationships between the principalities so they could worktogetherinstead of hindering each other’s efforts. But his tongue seemed to have turned to lead.

What was the point? Father was already angry, so he wouldn’t listen. Most likely no one else would be convinced, either. His brothers would torment him for daring to voice such “foolishness.” Things would only get worse. Father might forbid him from leaving the castle, and then he couldn’t try to visit Adriana. Although he’d probably have to put that off for a while, so Father wouldn’t get suspicious, anyway.

Fabian snickered. “It seems he’s forgotten how to speak.”

“Naturally,” Father muttered. “Then do what you’re best at, child. Stay silent and stay out of my way.”

And he had, more often than not. Sneaking about, trying not to draw attention to himself, hiding his relationship with Adriana, lying that he would stop seeing her when his father confronted him with the truth. He’d complain but not put up a fight when his father left him out of counsel meetings, and any time he did speak up, he’d retreat at the first hint of pushback, convincing himself that there’d be a better opportunity in the future.

He’d thought he was strategically waiting until he had a plan or knew the right words, or the perfect time presented itself. Eventually the tensions between the princes would lessen, he’d tell himself, providing an opportunity to make his argument. After all, if he acted too soon or his arguments were too weak, he’d make things worse, right?

He hadn’t tried to marry Adriana for the same reason. Sure, they’d promised each other they’d get married, but it was alwayssomeday.He’d avoided the question ofwhenand dodged her suggestion that they elope. Even Edwin had said that was foolish, providing a litany of reasons why it wouldn’t work and might cause more conflict, and Marcus had been quick to accept them.

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