Kingdom Cold Page 9

  "I realize that you're in a difficult position here, Princess," he said. "But I promise to protect you and your kingdom until my dying breath."

  Somehow his speech made me feel like I was the monster. I couldn't bring myself to form the words. I nodded. What was I doing? Emmett smiled brightly and slipped the ring onto my finger. He stood and pulled me into his chest, locking his arms around me. I felt a pang of guilt. I was a liar, but his embrace was comforting, the warmth of his body making me realize that I'd been cold moments ago. My thoughts returned to Young, who was sitting in a dungeon that very moment, and I wondered how I’d feel if it was him who proposed instead. My cheeks burned.

  Emmett pulled away without letting go and smiled down at me. My stomach dropped. He reached his hand up and gently brushed my cheek with his thumb, his gaze drifting down to my lips. Fear tore through my body as I felt his grip on my waist tighten. Would he steal my first kiss? He held our bodies together as he leaned in, his lips just beyond mine. His breath was warm and sweet. My body pulsed, my head dizzy. Suddenly his lips were on mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth as his body tightened. I could've pushed him, I could have told him to stop, but I was overcome with the need to know more. The excitement thrilled me, the sensation so dangerous and new. My mind sounded with alarm, even disgust, but my curiosity got the best of me.

  "Charlotte?" someone said from behind me. Emmett and I leaped apart. We spun to see Milly standing in the doorway to the atrium. She bowed. "Your Grace, the queen has requested your immediate presence in her chamber."

  Had she seen? The blush of her cheeks said she had. Milly's gaze surveyed our faces for clues but not even I knew what happened. I turned to Emmett, who laughed shyly before gesturing for me to go.

  I bowed and hurried away with Milly. As the door closed behind us, I wondered what story I'd tell her. My world was expanding and I hadn't yet figured out my place in it. Emmett had brought nothing but horror into my life since I'd met him, but somehow that didn't taint the memory of my first kiss. I blushed every time I looked down at the pink diamond on my finger.

  "The date's been set," Milly said as we hurried through the corridors.

  I shook my head. "The wedding?"

  Tears welled up in her eyes. "No, the execution." She buried her face in her hands. "They're going to kill him tomorrow." She looked up at me. "Do something."

  Chapter 22

  Prince Emmett

  NOTHING VIRTUOUS ABOUT that princess. It's possible her mother had lied. I sat in silence in the atrium for several minutes after the princess left, but even in the open air I found it difficult to catch my breath, and I couldn't regain full strength in the back of my knees. Perhaps I needed to get beyond these walls. I headed out to the back of the castle where I'd run into fewer people. I didn't feel like talking.

  Behind the castle, there was a fair amount of open field, with several scattered camps packed with patrolling soldiers. Even so, the majority of the army was at the front of the castle, leaving me to roam in peace. The climate in Besmium was similar to that of Algony, but today it felt hotter somehow. Was I ill? One thing I knew for sure was that I wasn't feeling this way because of Charlotte. If I'd learned anything, it was that women were interchangeable.

  I sighed and lay in the grass, the late afternoon sun casting a refreshing bit of shade. I knew that the princess wouldn't be able to resist my charms. She'd fall victim to my will eventually, just like all the simple-minded women-folk of Algony. So, what was my problem?

  A soft humming sound alerted me to a nearby presence. A red-faced servant in the unappealing end of her prime dug up several patches of a soft pink flower. I watched her for a minute—it was such a shame to watch her destroy such lovely flowers that I almost felt compelled to say something. I took a deep breath, attempting to exhale the memory of my kiss with the princess. Perhaps I needed to remind myself who I was. I needed to replenish the feeling of power that came so naturally to a man of my caliber. I got to my feet and puffed up my chest before strutting toward the servant.

  "You there," I called.

  She looked startled, her forehead crinkling. "Your Highness," she said, curtsying. I gagged. She looked older up close, with laugh lines around her eyes and her mouth. What did she have to be happy about?

  "What do they call you?"

  "Sasha, Your Highness. I'm the head chef." Her hands were covered in dirt, her apron covered in grease. There was a matronly charm to her; however, I quickly concluded talking to this woman could do no good—by comparison the princess was a goddess.

  "Forgive me, Your Highness. I must get back to work." She turned back to the flowers.

  "Of course," I nodded while turning to leave. The scrape of Sasha's shovel stopped me. Irritating. I turned back. "Why is a chef out here in the gardens, murdering an innocent flower?"

  "I uhm..."

  Too late. Her brief hesitation was enough. She rambled on but I blocked her out and took several steps closer to the flowers. They really were beautiful. Their pointed petals had a dangerous beauty that I appreciated—appreciated but didn't recognize. For such a beautiful flower in a climate similar to that of Algony, it was strange that I'd never come across it before. My eyes widened as I recalled it.

  "Oleander," I whispered under my breath.

  The chef's face turned porcelain white.

  I smiled so big it stung my cheeks. "What an interesting kingdom this is." I waited—watched her crumble beneath my gaze. She wouldn't dare lie to me. "Who is it for?"

  She visibly shook. "Your Highness, you have the wrong idea. I'm merely trying to prevent—"

  "So someone used this flower for its purpose, then?"

  She shook her head, desperation in the flare of her nostrils. "No, sire."

  “So they tried? And you're out here getting rid of the evidence."

  She nodded somberly. "Who took the flower, servant?" I loomed over her, using my size to intimidate her.

  She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and prepared herself for pain. "Tell me!" I barked, grabbing her arm. She remained motionless. I tilted my head to the side to observe her. She was willing to die to protect someone. I respected that. I released her arm. "Will you at least tell me who it was intended for?"

  She bit down on her bottom lip. A loud pop sounded from where my hand hit her cheek. I looked over my shoulder, but no one was around. She buried her face in her hands.

  Her posture slumped. "The queen," she sniffed through tears, keeping her gaze from mine.

  "Well, we can't have that, can we?" I said, pondering the possibilities. My tone wasn't convincing. Any idiot could see that my situation would be significantly improved if the old bat were killed off. Especially now that I’ve sufficiently won Charlotte’s affections. Still, the flowers were a good tool to have on hand for later. "I'd like every single one of these flowers transported to my chambers for safe keeping."

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  "And servant," I added, "it's in your best interest not to mention this conversation to anyone."

  I headed back into the castle, my mind reeling with excitement. Things were finally starting to get interesting. Someone was trying to kill the queen. I hustled into a side entrance and headed to my chambers.

  "Your Grace." I turned to see Draven, my mousy advisor, standing just outside my chamber.

  "Not now, Draven," I huffed, pushing past.

  "The queen has requested an audience with you."

  I stopped. "Fine. Where is she?"

  "The throne room, sire."

  Without another glance back, I headed to the throne room. I pushed through the double doors, ready to see the queen, and froze. Charlotte stood in front of me, her befuddled expression implying she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. I bowed too deeply and too quickly. What was wrong with me? She curtsied, smiled softly, and walked past me into the hallway I'd just left.

  "Welcome, Prince Emmett," the queen said from her throne. Her voice carried through the gold-li
ned room. She motioned to the guard, who left and pushed the heavy doors shut behind them. "Come here, we have much to discuss."

  I eyed her warily. "Is this about the princess?" My throat went dry.

  "Yes. Charlotte has requested to move the wedding to tomorrow," she said, brushing a pin-straight strand of hair out of her face. A wave of weakness hit my knees. I did leave an impression on the princess... naturally. The queen continued. "It seems she doesn't want her big day to be overshadowed by the execution."

  "Yes, that makes sense," I replied lamely.

  "Of course, I told her it would be impossible. You promised you'd find my husband before the wedding. That was the condition of our agreement and your betrothal to Charlotte. Have you forgotten?"

  "No, Your Majesty. I sent a unit of soldiers ten days ago a little after I delivered the princess. I received word five days ago that they have the king in tow and will be arriving here tomorrow afternoon."

  The queen stood, a glisten of light in the corner of her eye. "He's alive?"

  "Badly wounded, Your Majesty, but yes, alive."

  She slowly sat back down on her throne, the strictness of her posture melting away.

  "Then the wedding will be tomorrow evening then?" I prodded, hoping she wouldn't note my eagerness. Her eyes were glazed over in a way that suggested she was more within her thoughts than in the room.

  "Your Majesty," I nudged a little louder.

  Her face brightened. "Yes, of course. Let the servants know. The wedding will be tomorrow."

  "And the execution?" I asked.

  She paused, clicking her fingertips on the armrest of her throne. "We'll let Charlotte have her special day, but rest assured, when the sun rises the morning after the wedding, Prince Young will be dead."

  Chapter 23

  Princess Charlotte

  A FLECK OF SCATTERED light tickled my eyelids, waking me like a soft whisper, welcoming me to the dawn. I traced its source to the white ball gown in the center of my bedroom. It stood erect on its own, maintaining its rigid and elaborate shape. Droves of white fabric draped in layers filling a full skirt and endless train. Tiny hand-sewn porcelain beads scattered along the bottom of each layer and across the ornately beaded bodice, with a low dipping neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. Beside the dress was a small table with long white gloves and a glittering tiara.

  I circled the dress several times, leaping over the train in the back each time. It must have taken many sleepless nights to complete on time, but here it was. It was the loveliest dress I'd ever seen in any royal event anywhere. A month ago, I would have squealed and called Milly to help me put it on, but this wasn't just a fine dress, it was a wedding dress, which meant this was my last day to save Young.

  I headed to the armory. The hallways of the castle were quiet and still. I must've been up earlier than I thought. Suddenly, Emmett's voice filled the hall. I stopped and hid behind a column.

  Emmett’s voice rang out from the castle’s entrance. "Tell McCaffrey I'll need him to go with me to fetch the king. He has five minutes."

  "Yes, Your Highness," a soldier responded before their retreating footsteps and the silence that followed indicated they’d gone.

  I felt the strength drain from my legs. Did he mean my father? Tears stung my eyes. I pushed my weight against the column until I caught my breath. My father's alive. I took a deep breath, but I wouldn't let myself believe it until I saw him. I wiped the tears from my eyes and continued to the armory.

  The royal armory was much smaller at the southern castle. Still, it was packed with enough weapons and armor to fully equip Emmett's entire army twice. The quartermaster was an elderly man with tattered hands.

  "Your Highness," he said with a bright grin. His smile was pleasant, despite the fact he was missing most of his teeth. "It's been some time since you've come down here."

  I smiled, straining to remember his name, but I couldn't. "Uhm, I need a sword," I said.

  His smile drooped, framing his mouth with lines much akin to ripples in a lake. "What is the occasion?" he asked, looking more concerned.

  "A wedding gift for my new husband," I said.

  Dread filled the shopkeeper’s eyes. "I hope it’s not for the wedding today." He shook his head. "I wish you'd come sooner. I could have commissioned a sword fine enough for Prince Emmett, surely I have nothing on hand of that caliber."

  I sighed. "Please, if you had commissioned it, he would have found out about it. Will you just show me what you have?"

  His smile returned. "Of course, Princess. Right this way." He led me through the rows of helmets to the swords in the back.

  The collection was incredible, even to someone who didn't care much about swords. Each sword varied in size and had a unique case that complemented its design. Some were dipped in gold and displayed on a red velvet cloth, others had jeweled hilts and rested on white silk, but my gaze was immediately drawn to a huge broadsword that had a ruby-studded dragon wrapped around the top of it, acting as the hilt. Despite its size, I'd have no problem concealing it in the folds of my dress.

  "That one," I said.

  "Fine choice, Your Majesty," he said, lifting the glass case, placing it aside, and handing the sword to me.

  The sword was even more intricate up close, with carvings and patterns all the way down the center of the blade. For my purposes, though, it was too heavy. I'd never be able to pull it out and swing it before I was stopped. I needed something lighter.

  "Do you have something smaller?" I asked, feeling a wisp of sadness as the shopkeeper gently lifted the sword from my hands.

  "S-smaller?" he said, "Surely the prince—"

  "For me," I said flatly.

  "Well, this sword comes with a matching dagger," the shopkeeper said, placing the sword gently back in its case and leading me past the swords to the daggers. He picked up the dragon dagger, a marvel—with equal detail as its larger counterpart. He handed it to me. A surge of power rushed through me, followed by a wave of fear, though I wasn't scared of Emmett. I was afraid of myself, who I was becoming, and the terrible things I was planning to do.

  "Will it do?" the shopkeeper asked, regaining my attention.

  "Oh, yes, it's pretty," I said.

  The shopkeeper laughed, a wide-mouthed grin that exposed his bare gums. "Yes, very pretty."

  "I'll take them both," I said, heading for the door. "Have them both sharpened and in my chamber by noon today," I said, half calling over my shoulder.

  "Would you like me to have them gift wrapped, Princess?"

  I smiled. "That won't be necessary."

  Chapter 24

  Prince Emmett

  ONE LITTLE ERRAND WAS all that remained between the Besmian throne and me.

  I mounted my horse and trotted into the palace courtyard to meet McCaffrey. I had hundreds of soldiers at my disposal but didn’t need their protection. I had ten men waiting at our destination a mile outside the castle but, more importantly, I had McCaffrey. We were unlikely to meet any Besmian soldiers as they'd all been sent to the north to recapture Hiems. I needed a calming presence, and McCaffrey was my go-to man for that.

  The sun was peaking over the horizon, mixing with the morning dew to create a pink color that reminded me of the poisonous flowers I had hidden in my chamber. McCaffrey came into view as he made his way around a catapult. His hair askew, he was hunched over his horse as if he were asleep, and his droopy-eyed expression said the same.

  "Morning, Your Highness," he croaked. He looked like he hadn't been to sleep for the night, but I'd seen him in much worse shape than this. At least he wasn't vom—. As if he read my mind, he leaned to the side of his horse and made a deep gargling sound. He raised a hand to me. "Just a burp," he said, his horse fidgeting nervously.

  I sighed. "We're off then."

  We rode away from the palace and finally into the forest where, only a few weeks ago, I’d saved Charlotte. I knew the path well and as the sun rose in the sky, the path only became more ob
vious. This final task was almost too easy, just like winning Charlotte had been. She was a worthy reward for ruling over Besmium.

  Once McCaffrey adjusted to the early hour, he began chatting voraciously, covering all manner of topics. Despite his constant warbling, I listened with a mild intent—it was enough to distract me and keep my mind from the excitement of my plan coming together. An hour and a half later, when we neared the rendezvous point, not even McCaffrey could keep me calm. I wanted to burst through the wood to the clearing, collect the king, and return to my new home to claim my bride. We neared the clearing and I hurried through the surrounding bushes.

  I froze. All ten of my men were tied to trees scattered across the clearing. Some were bleeding, some weren't moving—the king was gone. My stomach dropped. McCaffrey and I hopped off our horses. I hurried over to the closest soldier.

  "Where's the king?" I shouted, grasping at the ropes.

  "Behind," he gasped.

  I turned to see a single Besmian soldier holding a sword to McCaffrey's throat. A second man stepped out from behind a tree with an arrow cocked back and aimed at me. Prince Young? I gaped. No. It wasn't him. He was a bit taller, with longer hair—still, the resemblance was uncanny. Must be the other Viran prince.

  I cleared my throat. "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot here."

  The Viran prince spoke. "I don't think we have. It seems like you and your men are trying to kidnap the King of Besmium. Whoever you are, that's an act of treason. Give me one good reason I shouldn't put this arrow in your head right now."

  I spoke carefully. "I was attempting to rescue the king. I was planning to return him unharmed to his family at Castle Cadere."