Page 88 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
The princess watched him placidly, unconcerned about her predicament and unimpressed with his introduction.
Brutus would have to change that.
He straightened to his full height—which looked more impressive with the seven-foot-tall orc out of view—and launched into a shortened version of his speech. “I am the Lord of Grimnight, who has cursed this land with eternal darkness. You have come here, swords raised, battle ready, to break my hold upon the land. And you havefailed.” He relished saying the last word, and eagerly watched the princess’ reaction.
The princess stood from the cot, picked up her skirts, and presented Brutus with a deep curtsey. “I am Princess Angelica Calamitous, heir to the Kingdom of Calamity. Since you are the lord himself, I assume you are the person in charge?”
“Of course. I am the source of your downfall—”
“In that case, these accommodations are simply unacceptable.”
Brutus blinked at her, thrown off by her steady confidence. “Excuse me?”
“You are not excused,” she replied, pointing her pert little nose in the air. “Because there is no excuse for your poor preparations. I may be your hostage, but I am also a princess. You are supposed to place me in a tower room with luxurious furnishing and a view of the cursed forest. Not this damp, stinky cell.” Her expression crumpled in disgust as she looked at the cot. “I willnotsleep on a straw mattress.”
It took Brutus a moment to collect himself. “Then I suppose you will go without sleep, princess, because you will be my prisoner for quite some time.”
Her lips pursed. “We’ll see about that.”
Brutus’ jaw clenched. Prisoners were much easier to deal with when they cowered. He glanced at the orc guard contemplatively. Orcs were huge, terrifying creatures with muscles thick enough to crush tree trunks and intimidating tusks that could rip open an opponent’s belly. If anyone could put fear into the princess’ heart, it would be one of these brutish minions.
A slow, malicious smile spread over Brutus’ lips as the idea formed. Yes, the orcs would soften the princess up for him, until she became malleable clay in his hands, the perfect pawn to control her kingdom.
“Minion,” he called since he couldn’t remember the orc’s name. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot before him.
The orc looked at the spot in confusion before tentatively steppingforward.
“I want you and your companions to shower the princess with our version of … hospitality.”
Make her scream in terror. Beg for her life. Tremble at the mere thought of the Lord of Grimnight!
He kept those thoughts to himself. In his time as an evil mage, he found thattellingsomeone you planned to break their will only encouraged them to fight back. While beating a strong, stubborn opponent was more impressive, it was also more difficult. He wanted the princess to be a broken mess by the time the other royal champions arrived, a warning to them of what happened to those who defied him.
The orc’s face hardened as he looked at the princess. He nodded once and growled, “I will do as you ask, my lord.”
Excellent. Brutus took one last look at the princess, savoring the fantasy of her defeat: her straight shoulders slumped; her golden hair fading into the tangled straw she despised; radiant skin turned ruddy and tearstained. It would be one of the triumphs of his career. Perhaps he would even commission a portrait to commemorate the occasion.
An evil laugh spilled from his lips, quiet at first, then growing louder as it bounced around the stone walls. He left in a swirl of his cloak, knowing that the echo of his malice would ring in the princess’ ears long after he’d gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I stared at the ‘inn’ dubiously. Most of the windows were broken and vomiting streams of ivy. The intact ones were gray with decades of caked dust. Rot ate away at the wood of the door, softening it into a pathetic slump. Had the floorboards or stairs fared any better? If we walked inside, would we find a mound of plants growing from the dead bodies of their ancestors?
“I thought you said it was intact?”
Maybe we should have gone straight to the lair.
Part of me wanted the others to follow us, to apologize or keep arguing, anything that allowed me to hold onto Prince Treasure Banes a little longer. The other part wanted to skip to the epilogue without having to see the betrayal, the battle, the end.
“I said ‘relatively.’”
“Only if the relative is a third cousin twice removed.”
Wilde huffed in amusement. “You’re right, this is no place to bring a lover or a royal.”
Even a fake one.Because none of it was real, was it? Our relationship was a lie to explain his presence. I wasn’t a lover, I wasn’t a prince, I wasn’t anything to anyone.
I opened my mouth to tell him we should just go to the lair but stopped when he raised his hand.
