Page 12 of Claimed by the Bastard Prince
“Cora, Cora, Cora,” he said, shaking his head. He suddenly moved fast in front of her and grasped her hair behind her head, giving it a yank, though not any harder than he would yank a lover’s hair in bed. Not any harder than he’d yanked hers earlier. Still, it scared her. Her lips quivered and another tear rolled down her cheek. “I thought you were going to be a good girl and tell me the truth.”
“Please. I did tell you the truth. Greg cheated on me, so I broke up with him. It was very unexpected. He’d recently asked me to move in with him, and I was thinking about it but hadn’t given him an answer yet. I thought he was The One, but I didn’t want to ruin things by allowing our relationship to progress so quickly, even though that sounds kind of stupid in retrospect seeing as how we dated for two years. But I was still hesitant and—”
“Do you know who poisoned Greg?” he asked, cutting her off.
“What? I don’t know anything about that. When was he poisoned? Is he okay?”
Akeen released her hair and towered over her with his arms crossed, giving her the most intimidating glare he could muster. Seasoned criminals usually cowered at this look, but Cora lifted her chin in challenge and gave a frustrated sigh.
“This is ridiculous. I demand to speak with someone else. How can I answer your questions when I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about?” She struggled against the handcuffs. “At least take these off. You outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds. Surely, you’re not afraid of little ol’ me?”
“The cuffs stay on until you answer one more of my questions properly. Tell me who poisoned Greg, or why you conspired to assassinate the leader of Ismallia. Or tell me about the first person you met who introduced you to the CKP, or tell me about your connections to anyone in Ermastistan.”
“Every fucking question you’ve asked me sounds crazy. Can I talk to Malia? She will tell you what kind of person I am and that I would never try to kill anyone. What the fuck reason would I have to kill King Brenul, anyway?”
Fury was starting to replace her fear, and Akeen had to put a stop to it. The more frightened she was, the more likely she was to confess all her secrets about the CKP and the plot against the king. He unlocked the cell and stepped into the hallway, then locked it again.
When a prisoner got angry, it was time for a change of pace. Time to introduce a new threat in hopes of obtaining a confession.
“You should have answered my questions, Cora. You aren’t going to like what I return with. Not one bit.”
He strode away from her cell to the front area where the implements of torture were stored. He found a small worn leather riding crop and held it up for inspection. One of the commanding officers approached him.
“Any news?” Akeen asked.
“Your father is safe and the palace has been secured, sir, but there is no news yet. The investigators are still working to verify the Americans’ intel about Cora.” Commander Wornik eyed the riding crop. “I take it the prisoner isn’t being cooperative?”
“You could say that. She’s claiming complete innocence.”
“What if she is innocent, sir?” The officer looked uncomfortable as he once more glanced at the riding crop. “She is the first female I can recall being brought to the dungeon in these times. I understand you are following protocol by interrogating her until the investigation is complete; however, the Royal Guard and the king himself would likely understand if you wished to halt questioning until the investigation is finished.”
Akeen gripped the crop tighter and glared his displeasure at the man for daring to suggest they break from the conventional code of behavior. Both of them had sworn to uphold protocol and the king’s law.
“I don’t ever want to hear you speaking of leniency again, Commander Wornik, when it comes to a threat against the crown or the state. Is that understood?”
The officer paled. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”
“Good. Now, if there is any news about the investigation, you will come inform me. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Riding crop in hand, Akeen turned and strode back to Cora’s cell.
* * *
A whip.Akeen was holding a whip.
She stared at the horrid looking implement. It wasn’t large, and she thought perhaps it was a riding crop. Would he really use it on her?
Fear clutched her heart and her mouth went dry. Her stomach twisted, and she started struggling in the handcuffs, whimpering and shaking her head as he approached.
This wasn’t how her trip to Ismallia was supposed to go. She was supposed to attend the fairytale wedding, see all the sights in this beautiful country, and then return home safe and sound. How the hell had this happened? Why did he think Greg had been poisoned, and why did he think she had conspired to kill the king?
None of this made sense, and not being able to answer any of his questions to his liking, Cora felt an utter sense of hopelessness spreading through her chest.
For a second, she considered lying and answering his questions the way he expected—admitting to having a part in a plot against the king, if only to prevent him from hurting her.
The steel in his dark eyes frightened her. How many people had he brought to this dungeon before? What would happen if she never gave him the confession he wanted? Cora had never been in trouble with the law, nor had she ever been held against her will. Feelings of fear, frustration, and anger churned in her gut.
