Page 34 of The Crownless Prince

“Your servant carries himself well,” Jairus said as Marcus returned. “He holds that spear like he knows what to do with it. I could almost mistake him for a knight or a nobleman.”

Lucien stood a little taller. “I employ only the very best. Such strong, handsome, capable, and well-mannered young men as Marcus Williams and his brother make excellent additions to my retinue. Like all of my servants, he is dedicated, obedient, and loyal. Naturally, he understands what an honor it is to serve me. Isn’t that right, Williams?”

Marcus bowed. “Yes, my lord. I’m honored and grateful for your beneficence in giving me a place in your household.”

Jairus nodded, clearly impressed, while Adriana’s stomach roiled.

“Observe.” Lucien snatched the spear from Marcus. “My feet are getting chilled in this snow. Williams, dry my boots with your cloak.”

With a soft “yes, my lord,” Marcus bowed and pulled off his cloak. His broad shoulders strained against his tunic as he knelt in the snow, wiping muck off one of Lucien’s boots and then the other. Adriana bit her tongue. It was not her place to tell a man what he could or could not order his own servant to do, especially not as a woman. And while his order was coldhearted and debasing, it wasn’t heinous. She couldn’t risk letting on that she cared about Marcus and already hated Lucien by demanding he stop.

“Leave the cloak for me to stand on,” Lucien ordered as Marcus began to rise.

“Of course, my lord.” His eyes downcast, Marcus spread his cloak over the tramped-down snow and withdrew behind Lucien. Melting snow left wet spots on his trousers, and his tunic didn’t look very warm.

Adriana squeezed herself tighter, feeling ill as she put the pieces together. Lucien hadn’t picked Marcus to attend him at random. He didn’t know who Marcus was or who he was to her, but his choice of servant was calculated. Marcus was tall, attractive, and strong with a hint of physical prowess, and he spoke and moved with the grace and poise of a nobleman. Lucien had wanted Marcus to wait on him for the same reason a man might collar a gryphon or make a cloak fromthe skin of a great bear—to make himself appear more remarkable for mastering another living thing that was itself impressive.

He had trotted out Marcus like a prized exotic pet.

If only that would be enough to convince Father that Lord Lucien wasn’t a worthy husband. Father would probably claim it was natural for a man to strive to impress his future bride and brother-in-law by picking his best servants. He might not interpret it as using another human as an accessory and treating them as less than human. But she did, and even if the servant in question hadn’t been Marcus, Lucien’s behavior would have repulsed her.

Jairus, too, appeared uncomfortable as he glanced between Lucien standing on Marcus’s dirty cloak and Marcus standing with his head bowed. He took his spear from Felix and cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

Chapter 15

Marcus jogged across the snow to retrieve the spear for the third time, ignoring how cold his wet trousers were and how the air nipped through his tunic and undershirt without the added protection of his cloak.

He’d known Lord Thorne was up to something when he’d stomped into the servants’ room after breakfast and barked at them to line up. After scrutinizing them, he’d ordered Roger to step forward—“because you’ve served me the longest”—and then Marcus.

“You possess the strongest and most refined appearance. You’ll hold my weapons and retrieve them from the target for me,” Lord Thorne had said. “You will be the picture of a meek servant, moving quickly and quietly, speaking only when spoken to, and immediately following any command with utmost deference. Convince me that you love serving me. If you don’t…well. I’d rather not have to discipline you.”

Marcus had agreed, but he’d also noted the looks the others had sent his way. Most of the servants had looked worried, frightened even. But Roger had appeared relieved, almost smug, as if glad his lord’s focus would be on someone other than himself.

Thorne claiming Marcus’s cloak for his dirty boots hadn’t beenwhat Marcus expected, although he hadn’t been sure what to expect. Perhaps finding fault with Lord Lucien Thorne wouldn’t be difficult after all. Unfortunately, as humiliating as that had been, King Mortimer likely wouldn’t find bullying a servant worth withdrawing from a wedding that would refill the treasury and make his rule more secure.

“Your servant appears cold,” Prince Jairus noted. His eyes held a touch of sympathy as he watched Marcus return with the spear. “Perhaps we should retire inside.”

“Before we’ve determined a winner of our friendly contest?” Thorne flashed a cocky grin. “Worried you’ll lose again?”

Jairus frowned. “The outcome of the match wasn’t the point and doesn’t concern me. Does the welfare of your servant not concern you?”

Marcus forced himself not to react. Although he’d met Jairus only briefly at the hunt where he’d first met Adriana, she’d told him about her brother. It seemed he was worthy of the admiration given him by his little sister.

“Of course. If he’s too chilled, we can abandon our tie-breaking throw.” Thorne turned his steely gaze on Marcus, and there was a warning in that look.

“I’m all right, my lord and Your Highness. The activity has kept me warm.”

“However, I’m cold,” Adriana said. She took a couple steps closer from where she had been watching in silence. “My nose and feet would be grateful for a fire.”

It took a great deal of effort for Marcus not to turn to look at her.

Thorne gave her an indulgent smile. “I certainly won’t allow my bride to freeze. Come, let’s return inside.” He glanced at Marcus. “Williams. Help the king’s servants put away the targets and spears. Then return my bow and quiver to my quarters and dress in dry garments.”

Marcus bowed, fighting a shiver. “Yes, my lord.”

“Lucien,” Adriana said as she glided over to his side. Her smile was tight and forced. “My family’s servants are very efficient and don’t require extra help. I’m afraid Williams may only get in the way and frustrate them.”

To Marcus’s relief, Thorne nodded. “True enough. Follow along with my bow and quiver, then, Williams.”

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