“Lass, you’re going nowhere. Save your energy.”
Baring her teeth at him, she struggled harder, although much to her embarrassment, their grips didn’t loosen in the slightest. Her breaths drew short as they exited the chapel and entered the grand hall. A lump rose in her aching throat at the destruction. The furniture was broken, the decorations destroyed, and red splatters covered the gray stone floor.
Wren’s attention moved to the bottom of the dais where she’d seen her parents last. Their bodies were gone but she couldn’t get the images of them dying out of her mind. Her bottom lip wobbled, and she sucked it into her mouth to keep from crying. She wouldn’t let the enemy see her grief.
The warriors stopped before the dais and hauled Wren to her feet. She swayed, not taking her gaze from the stones where she’d lost her parents. They were gone.
“Kneel before your lord,” the dark-haired elf to her right demanded.
Wren tore her gaze from the stones and glared up at the elf. His dark eyes narrowed as she held his gaze and stood a little taller. She would never kneel for the Verlanti.
She grunted when he kicked the back of her knee, causing her to fall. Her palms slapped against the floor as she caught herself. Her heart pounded and she glanced over her right shoulder. Wren gathered the saliva in her mouth and spit at him. It landed on his dirt-smeared boot and he took one step toward her.
“Enough,” a deep voice commanded.
A shiver ran through her body at the power in the one word alone. A small smile lifted her lips as she stared down the dark-haired elf. He clenched his jaw and retreated.
“Coward,” she rasped, pain flaring in her neck.
“Silence!”
“Or what?” she muttered.
A hand grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pulled. She winced, hating that she dismissed the redhead. Her gaze locked onto the man sitting atop the dais.
On her father’s throne.
The same man she’d tried to kill.
Rage filled her and she tried to move forward, only to be yanked back by her hair by the redhead. She clawed at his arm, and he cursed but didn’t release her hair. The other dark elf stepped in, securing her arms behind her back. Wren glared mutinously at the warrior sitting on her father’s throne.
“How dare you sit there!” she spat.
He arched a silver brow and leaned back as if to get more comfortable. “What is it to you? The man who previously held this position was weak.”
“My father was not weak. You’re half the man he was.”
A glint entered his ice blue eyes. “That was easier than I expected. Welcome, Princess.”
She frowned. What was he getting at? “What of it?”
“I would have thought your people would have hidden you away from me.”
Dread crept into her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just surprised that your family allowed their only heir to wander about the keep. Especially, one helpless when it comes to battle.”
She schooled her expression. Heir? They thought she was the heir? For once in her life, she was so bloody thankful for her parent’s paranoia. They had shielded Britta from the world. Anyone outside Lorne Keep believed that there was only one princess.
Wren held her head high and eyed the bandage tied around his bare stomach. She slowly lifted her eyes to his face and smirked. “Not too helpless it seems,” she quipped.
He didn’t rise to her bait but the hands holding her arms back tightened painfully. Someone didn’t like her attitude. She gritted her teeth and glanced up at the dark-haired elf. He glared at her.
“Watch your tone,” he growled. “You’re speaking to your betters.”
Her betters? Her upper lip curled. “Did you not hear your master? I’m a princess, how dare you think to command me.”
“You’re nothing but isle filth,” he retorted. “Speak to my prince again like that and you’ll not like the consequences.”
Prince?
Things started to fall into place and the air seemed to thin. There was only one Verlantian prince that led the elven army.
The beast. A warmonger without a conscience or morals.
The king’s bastard born child.
Her focus snapped to the man lounging on the throne. This was all his fault. He killed her family.
“I’ll kill you,” she shrieked, trying to dislodge the soldiers holding her in place.
“Feisty one,” the redhead grunted as he wrapped her hair around his fist and yanked, causing her body to bow.
The prince stood and walked down the stairs, looming over Wren. He cocked his head as he watched her struggle. “You have two choices, my lady.”
Wren strained toward him, ignoring the pain in her body. “Let me go.”
“All in good time,” he murmured. His gaze seemed to pierce her as he observed her. “I have been tasked with bringing you back to the king of Verlanti. You will be wed to him.”
“Never,” she hissed.
“I’m not finished,” he said softly. “I am giving you a choice. Death or marriage.”
Don’t be rash.
Wren wanted to die rather than marry the depraved elf king, but her death would be senseless. It would solve nothing. She panted, her pulse pounding in her ears. She already knew what her answer was.
“I’ll marry your king,” Wren answered with calmness she didn’t know she possessed. She’d play their games until a route of escape made itself known. This was an opportunity. Spies did not survive in the Verlantian court, but Wren was being invited into their intimate circle. If she kept her head down, she could tear them apart from the inside and reclaim the Dragon Isles. “I’ll see you dead first.”
A glint of interest entered the prince’s gaze and he smiled. He reminded her of a shark. Predatory and intelligent. “Come and get me, little dragon. I love a good challenge.”
She launched herself at him and pain exploded in her shoulders. Spots crossed her vision a moment before everything went dark.
12
Arrik
“It’s done,” Shane said softly.
Arrik gazed at the unconscious princess laid out on his bed in the small cabin of his ship. She was a bloody mess. There wasn’t part of her body that wasn’t covered in bruises and cuts. Their healer had done his best to clean her up, but she was still a disaster.
“You know I didn’t dislocate her shoulder on purpose?” his second asked.
Arrik glanced to his left at Shane and nodded. His second was many things but an abuser of women wasn’t one of them. “She did it to herself.”
Shane grunted and crossed his arms. “I didn’t expect her to launch herself at you. I’m not really sure how she was able to get to her feet in the first place. It happened so quickly.” A pause. “You’ll have to watch your back with this one.”
Everyone was always out to get Arrik. The moment his father had shown any favor toward him, a target had been painted on his back. “She won’t be my problem for long.”
His second snorted. “I think our journey back to Verlanti will seem longer with her aboard.”
Arrik agreed but not for the reasons Shane thought. There was something compelling and alluring about the woman. She posed a challenge and that excited him. Plus, there had been a glint in her eyes that spoke to his soul. She was unabashedly wild where Arrik had to remain calm. They were opposites. She was the light and he the darkness.
He sighed and rolled his neck, his attention flicking to the windows to his left. Half his navy would stay in the isles while Arrik returned to the capital with the heir and then he’d return.
“Hopefully, she heals quickly,” Shane commented lowly.
Arrik winced and frowned at the unconscious princess. The king of Verlanti was a man of picky tastes. He collected stunning trinkets in all forms, but women were his favorite. If the heir didn’t hold up to his standard, Arrik didn’t want to think about what the king would do with her once he’d legally claimed her land.
Why do you care?
He couldn’t afford to. Each time he did, it ended in death.
Arrik turned his back on her and strode for the door. “Take her to the brig.”