Chapter 12

Arik

"Gods' balls…" As we rode into the castle courtyard and saw who was waiting for us on the steps, Roan swore. The girl we'd known as Pearl the night before might no longer be dressed in a thin cotton underdress that showed every movement of her perfect little tits, but there was no mistaking who stood there. "That's—"

"Princess Jessalyn," Creed finished, shooting me a dark look. That was fine. I could take it—he'd been throwing them at me all morning after he'd punched me fair in the jaw. "She's a fucking princess, Arik, and she's the king's intended."

Pain flashed across his face, and it was more intense than anything he'd inflicted on me. No matter what her father had promised our king, Creed's bond with her was far deeper and had so much more meaning. There was only one woman in all the world for him and that was the princess.

"And you knew." Silas shifted his horse closer, his lips curved into his usual razor-sharp smile. "You knew last night." His brows creased as he searched my face. "You knew—"

"I was sent to find the girl, wasn't I?" I replied, then turned in my saddle to look over at the castle steps where she pushed her mother's hands aside, gathering up her skirts to come marching over.

Her father looked flustered. On the one hand, he'd had a ‘chat' with me well before that little betrothal ceremony, telling me how I might need to ‘persuade' his daughter to fulfil her duty, so her haste now removed that obstacle. At the same time, the petty prick didn't like his daughter striding out ahead of him on her own. He hustled his arse after her, trying to make it look like her actions had been his idea all along.

"Well, this will make for a much more interesting trip." Roan swung down from his saddle and before I could order him back, he'd sauntered forward to meet the princess head on. "Good morning, Your Highness," he said smoothly. "Your carriage awaits, and if you'd like some company to pass the time—"

"I'd rather eat steaming hot horse dung." Her head whipped around to face him, her eyes narrowing. "You are steaming hot horse dung."

"All I just heard is that you think I'm hot," he quipped, giving her his most practised smile before resting his hands on his hips, a move designed to draw a wench's attention to those over-developed muscles of his. When the princess reached her hand out toward his chest, he smirked in my direction, but that look soon dropped from his face when she shoved him out of her way. I dismounted and prepared to face her wrath.

"You're angry," I said, offering Jessalyn my hand to assist her into the carriage. Creed opened the door and pulled down the steps, then took one look at the princess' face before bowing low and removing himself from her vicinity.

"There aren't the words to describe how I feel right now," she hissed back, knocking my hand away. She spared me one furious glance before sweeping her skirts to the side to negotiate the steps, then flouncing down onto the seat. "And I'll be riding alone in the carriage," she declared to no one in particular.

"It's alright, sweetheart." Roan leered at her from over my shoulder. "When you're sore from sitting in there all day, I'll rub your arse better, then give you something else to—"

"Daughter." We all stepped back and fell silent as the King of Stormare reached us. I took in the neatly trimmed beard, the ‘subtle' crown, then his puffed-out chest, and made sure to show him the respect he no doubt thought he was entitled to. He didn't look pleased at the fact that he was forced to talk to Jessalyn through the doorway of the carriage, but even he could see that discretion was the better part of valour right now. If we hauled the princess out to say her goodbyes, we might not get her back inside.

Part of me longed for that.

For the little minx to fight her way free, scratching and biting like a wildcat, only to run out of the gates…

But I'd seen enough of the Stormarian court to know that wasn't the way a high-born lady behaved. They took perfect little girls and hemmed them in, tighter and tighter, until they became like those birds the king had brought in from the tropical kingdoms near the equator. With brightly coloured feathers the likes of which hadn't been seen in Khean, they sang so sweetly inside their cages. Then the winter came, and while we were rubbing our hands with the cold, they lay on the bottom of their cages, stiff as a board.

It was best not to think of such things.

"Well," Silas said from beside me, his eyes dancing with a familiar light that I didn't like to see outside of a battlefield, "you've managed to make what promised to be an interminably boring trip much more interesting. Bravo."

"You know there's nothing worse than when you get bored," I shot back under my breath. "Someone always ends up bleeding."

"How do we do this?"

Creed asked me that, sounding like a soldier making a request of his commander, but that wasn't his motivation. The wolf was what made him a scout without peer, a warrior of unquestionable skill and ferocity, but while the king liked to use beast men in his army for just those reasons, he neglected to take into account one important thing. The wolf had its own ideas of right and wrong—of what was important—and instinct would trump orders every time. I turned to him, holding out my hand, and he took hold of my forearm like it was a lifeline, squeezing hard enough that his fingers left an imprint.

"I don't know, brother," I told him honestly. The wolf would sniff out any lie, so there was no point trying. "But we'll work it out, together."

That was enough for him, for now at least. He nodded and then let go of my arm, and we turned to see that the king had finished his farewells.

"Take care of my daughter," he said to me, just a tiny waver in his voice making clear he knew what her fate would be. Didn't mean the bastard would do anything to save her from it. "Ensure she reaches the king intact."

Hmm… that was interesting. Did he mean in one piece or…? Silas had ascertained that Jessalyn still possessed her maidenhead and had made it clear that we couldn't take it while riding the red dragon, but…

"Of course, Your Majesty," I said, performing the kind of courtly bow I'd been trained to perfect. "Your daughter is our new queen. We will lay down our very lives to ensure she reaches her destination."

The fury that radiated from the girl in the carriage made clear she was not interested in any potential sacrifices we might make, nor in anything else we might have to say. Didn't stop me from pausing in the doorway for just a second. She was so fucking beautiful, and that was what had struck me the moment I'd pulled her veil free and cut that stupid corset from her. Those flashing eyes, those full lips—all the more swollen for what we'd put her through last night—they pulled at me now, just as they had then. Today I wouldn't be helping her rip any jewels free of her finery nor arranging the sale of them to speed her on her way. Not now. I wasn't a saviour; I was her jailer. So I shut the door tight and locked it in place.

It didn't stop my lips from stinging as I smiled at the royal family of Stormare, from where she'd kissed me so hard that my teeth had cut the skin. It didn't stop my cock from lurching in my breeches, the traitorous bastard refusing to go down, even now, well after the roseblood had left my system. It didn't prevent me from wanting to haul the girl out of the carriage the minute we got clear of the city, nor from wanting to pull her up onto the saddle in front of me so that she rode against the pommel for the duration, her perfectly formed arse pressed firmly to me as she sat between my legs.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Silas drew abreast with me. The bastard liked pain in all its forms, and psychological pain was a particular pleasure for him. He looked me over, reading me like a fucking book, just like he did everyone, before grinning and giving his reins a flick.

"Oh, this will be fun…" he said, nudging his horse on to drop into formation further along the road, ostensibly to scout for danger.

I was glad one of us was enjoying himself. I certainly wasn't. To me, pain was not something to seek out, nor was it something to savour. It was harsh and unpleasant and had been an all too common feature of my life.

And was about to be again.

Silas wasn't often wrong, but he would be disappointed if he thought there could be any amusement to be gained from what faced us. I'd hated bringing each one of my king's brides to him, but I hated this time the most. Jessalyn didn't deserve her fate. None of them had, but it was the thought of her eyes, of having all the fire in them stifled, then snuffed out, left to stare blankly at the ceiling, that made me grit my teeth. I shook my head and forced my horse into a canter, which ensured the others would need to do the same. This wasn't going to be fun. It was going to be hell, pure and simple; but the only way to pass through the underworld was to endure its trials.