Page 35 of The Crownless Prince

“Yes, my lord.” That time, Marcus couldn’t stop the shiver.

Once inside, Thorne, Adriana, and Jairus headed for the sitting room. At least Jairus would be there for Adriana. Marcus delivered Thorne’s bow to his room. He hesitated, looking around the chamber. This was an opportunity to search Thorne’s belongings for anything incriminating. But did he dare rifle through his lord’s personal things?

He decided to do so, but very carefully, disrupting the room as little as possible and returning everything to exactly how he’d found it. That meant he couldn’t fully dig through Thorne’s trunks. From what he could see, two trunks were full of clothing and personal care items such as perfumes, scented bath salts, and hair oils. Marcus lingered for a moment over the oils. Oh, how he missed hair oils and scented baths and other luxuries he’d not used since before his incarceration.

The final trunk held bags of coins, which were likely the brideprice. He wrinkled his nose as he closed that trunk. Nobles married off their children for various advantages all the time, just as his own father had tried to marry him off to secure military support. But he disliked the practice, and he liked it even less when it felt like Lucien Thorne was buying Adriana.

Unfortunately, he found nothing that would incriminate Lucien in front of the king. Perhaps there was something buried at the bottom of one of the trunks, but there was no way he could pull everything out without it being obvious someone had gone through them. Defeated, he returned to the room he shared with the other servants. His wet cloak, which was draped over his left arm, was making his chill worse rather than better, and he was ready to change into dry trousers.

Edwin jolted to his feet when Marcus entered and scrutinized him from head to foot. “Did you fall in the snow?”

Marcus shook his head. “Lord Thorne…required my cloak to clean his boots.”

“What?” Edwin’s expression darkened like a storm cloud. “I should have known a man who wrote a contract like that would be a churl.”

“Never let him hear you say that,” a lanky servant named Jacob said from where he lounged on his bed near the fire. “Most of the time, Lord Thorne’s decent enough. But he enjoys using his power as our lord and the holder of contracts he knows we can’t afford to break to humiliate us. If he’s in a particularly bad mood, he gets violent. Disobedience or disrespecting him are quick ways to put him in a bad mood.”

Pulling off his boots, Marcus sighed. “I’m sorry, Ed. I shouldn’thave been so eager to take the first position that came our way.” Although such testimony from Thorne’s servants might work in his and Adriana’s favor.

Edwin flopped on his own bed. “I was just as stupid, if not worse. I ignored my instincts and agreed. After all, if I’d told you no, you wouldn’t have signed. Even if I’d said no and you still signed, no one forced me to join you.”

“I still feel like this is my fault—”

“You aren’t supposed to carry responsibility for everything in Aedyllan, you know.” Edwin rolled his eyes.

Marcus didn’t argue. He knew it was true, but that didn’t change the fact that if Thorne ever directed his pettiness or hostility toward Edwin, Marcus would feel responsible.

He pulled on a clean pair of trousers—another borrowed pair, as Edwin had washed their clothing while Marcus was out, and everything was still wet. The trousers were rough and a touch short, but they were dry. Then he stood by the fire to finish warming up and dry where the snow on the cloak had seeped into his overtunic.

“Where are the others?”

“Doing more washing of Lord Thorne’s and the knights’ clothing,” Jacob said. “Edwin and I are stuck here in case Lord Thorne requires more servants for anything. Doubt it, though, as the Faines’ servants have things well in hand.”

Marcus nodded. That might leave the rest of the day to kill. Ugh, he’d thought he was done being trapped in a stone building with nothing to do.

“You fight at all, Jacob?”

The young man blinked. “Erm, no?”

“Shame. Edwin and I haven’t had a chance to practice with a new sparring partner in a while.”

Jacob straightened, glancing back and forth between them. “What sparring do you do?”

“Wrestling,” Edwin said. “Staff. Sword.”

“We both used to be decent archers.” Marcus recalled that morning’s events with some resentment and bruised pride. “I haven’t drawn a bow in far too long, though.”

“I don’t know what kind of masters you had that allowed such pursuits,” Jacob said, shaking his head, “but I’d keep that to yourselves. I can’t imagine Lord Thorne would take kindly to his servants partaking in a knight’s pastimes. Or he’d decide you’d make good sparring partners, which would end horribly. Either he’ll wallop you squarely or he’ll beat you to ease his hurt pride if he doesn’t.”

Marcus hadn’t considered that his martial ability might be suspicious or cause more problems. After all, Edwin had trained with him even before becoming his bodyguard, and Father had never objected.

Just when Marcus was finally warm again, the door opened and Roger peered inside.

“Mar—ah, there you are. Our lord commands that you fetch the large jar of wine bearing the stamp of a sea serpent on the wax seal from his chambers and wait on him and the prince and princess in the study on the first floor.” Roger’s smile had a cruel edge. “Be quick about it, boy.”

The door shut and Roger was gone before Marcus could so much as say yes.

Jacob snorted. “Roger is the best at reading Lord Thorne, and also the best at deflecting his ire. Other than maybe Steward Talwen. Watch out for both of them. They’ll gladly throw you under the carriage to save themselves.”

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