Page 10 of Claimed by the Bastard Prince
“Cora Meyers, you are under arrest.”
Blinking, she shifted and sat up against the pillows. Akeen was here, but so were a dozen other men, dressed in the same uniforms as the two men who’d interrupted them earlier. Why were so many members of the Royal Guard here in this room and looking right at her? All of them wore firm, no-nonsense expressions that sent a shudder through her body.
Had she been dreaming, or had Akeen really said she was under arrest? He looked furious, and when her gaze dropped to his hands, she gasped at the sight of the restraints he was holding.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, the haze of sleep finally lifting.
“Cora Meyers of America, you are under arrest for conspiring to assassinate King Brenul of Ismallia. Stand up and put your hands behind your back.” Akeen’s cold tone washed through her, chilling her to the bone.
“There has to be some mistake. I would never do such a thing.”
“Stand up and put your hands behind your back immediately. Don’t make this harder than it already is, Cora.” A flash of hurt in his eyes made her stomach flip.
Did he actually believe she was a threat against his father? It couldn’t be further from the truth. She had come to Ismallia to attend Malia’s wedding and nothing more. Well, other than sightseeing. How had he come to the conclusion that she was a criminal? What kind of information had the American government, a staunch supporter of King Brenul, provided?
She shook her head and shrunk back, keeping the covers draped over her body. “Please, Akeen. I’m not wearing any clothing.”
His eyes left hers for the first time since she’d awoken, and he inspected her body, realization appearing to dawn in his gaze. “Fetch her a robe!” he called.
Within moments, a black silk robe was tossed on the bed. Blinking back tears, Cora yanked the robe under the covers and donned it, tying it tight in the front, before finally crawling out of bed. “I demand to speak to the American Embassy in Ta-Kona.” The consulate of her home country was stationed only a few miles from the palace, in a tourist trap known as Ta-Kona which she had planned to visit before her return to America.
“You will not be making any demands of us. Now turn around and give me your hands, or I will have no choice but to force you.”
* * *
He fucking hated puttinghandcuffs on Cora. At least, for this reason. A cloud of disbelief hung heavily upon him. He couldn’t believe she had conspired to take the king’s life. He wondered if it was chance that he’d noticed her at the wedding reception, or if she had intentionally tried to catch his eye by walking across the ballroom and standing on the most secluded balcony, as if inviting him to follow. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had used him.
No, that was just chance, he told himself. He’d been looking for a woman to spend the evening with when he’d first spotted her. Nevertheless, he almost wished he hadn’t met her and gotten to know her before he arrested her. If she were a stranger, this would be so much easier.
‘Royal Advisor’ was Akeen’s official title, and he did give advice to his father now and then. But most of the time, he tended to ‘unofficial’ duties with the Royal Guard.
Like capturing and interrogating criminals who sought to harm the crown. He did all the dirty work no one else wanted to do. He’d fallen into helping the Royal Guard in his teens, not long after coming to live in the palace while still reeling from the untimely death of his mother. For a reason he’d never fully understood, this line of work came naturally to him.
He hoped Cora confessed to her crimes immediately. The thought of hurting her turned his stomach. He’d never been faced with a female criminal before, and while he could allow the Royal Guard to question her, the prospect of another man harming her during an interrogation made him rage inside.
Why did it have to be her? Why couldn’t it have been another American who’d conspired against his father?
But the evidence was there. Cora’s ex-boyfriend, Greg Keller, had multiple contacts with Akeen’s exiled uncle and with a criminal faction known as CKP (Citizens for King Partha) that operated underground in nearby Ermastistan, a small country on the southern border of Ismallia. Greg Keller had died last night in New York. Poison was suspected, but before he died, he had given a rambling confession to an assassination plot, claiming his ex-girlfriend was the mastermind behind it all. He said she’d left him after he’d expressed doubts about killing King Brenul.
Akeen gripped Cora’s arm and led her to the private security elevator that would take them to the dungeon. Though they lived in modern times, the lowest level of the palace hadn’t been renovated as much as the rest of this grand structure. It was damp and dark, and the ancient instruments of torture remained, though to be honest, they were there mostly for a show of intimidation. If criminals thought Akeen was about to put them on a medieval stretching contraption, they usually spilled all their secrets at his feet and begged for mercy.
He eyed Cora, deciding he would interrogate her in private. The Royal Guard didn’t need to watch. He prayed the intel was incorrect. Hundreds of royal investigators were currently working to verify the information from the Americans. Until he received that verification, he wouldn’t harm a hair on Cora’s pretty head. But he would do his duty and try to get her to confess in other ways—like scaring her and threatening her.
Fucking hell, he hated this, but he didn’t have a choice.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, shaking in his hold as the elevator descended to the dark depths of the palace. Only five officers accompanied them in the elevator as it was small, and she huddled against him in the tiny space.
He turned her and placed his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to stare up at him. “The dungeon, Cora. I’m taking you to the dungeon, where you’ll be thoroughly questioned for your involvement in the plot against King Brenul.”
Fear flashed in her blue eyes, and he steeled himself to ignore her increased trembling. If she was guilty, getting her to confess quickly was important—the information she revealed could save lives.
“Please, Akeen, you have to believe me. I didn’t do anything, and I wasn’t planning to do anything. I’m completely innocent. This is a terrible mistake. Why-why do you think I’m a threat?”
The elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors hissed open.
“Your government told us you were a threat, so don’t bother asking for help from the American Embassy again. If you want to help yourself,” he said, guiding her out of the elevator, “then I suggest you cooperate and tell me everything you know. If you are uncooperative, things will soon get very unpleasant for you, I can assure you of that.”
At that moment, they moved past the entryway of the dungeon, where stone-faced officers holding machine guns stood guard. A few steps further, and they crossed through the area that contained most of the ancient torture devices. Water occasionally trickled on them from overhead. The dungeon was darker and damper than Akeen remembered. He hadn’t been down here to interrogate an enemy of the crown in several months.
