Princess of Silence E-Book

Johnson ID

• Herausgeber: ID Johnson
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A silent princess, a captive king, four realms at war....

Princess Katherine knows her hand has been given to sinister King Philip, but when she learns he's taken the ruler of a neighboring kingdom captive, she's compelled to discover King Matthew's location and set him free before it's too late.
However, with Matthew's brother King Caleb closing in on Philip's borders, Philip threatens to end Matthew. Katherine is running out of time. Saving Matthew without being able to speak proves complicated, especially when another woman assumes Katherine's identity, and the princess finds herself in chains.

At risk of losing everything, Katherine must overcome the traumas of her past and find her voice in order to free Matthew, prove she is the rightful princess, and ensure Philip pays for his ruthless acts. 

Is it possible that one of these kings may win her heart along the way?
Princess of Silence is a fast-paced romance set in an alternative medieval world where kings collide and women use their wits to prove they are more than pawns to be bartered with. Previously published as Deck of Cards, Princess of Silence has been rewritten and polished to create an epic historical romance that will stay with readers long after the final page.

Leseprobe

Princess of Silence

When Kings Collide Book One

ID Johnson

Copyright © 2019 by ID Johnson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover by Sparrow Book Cover Designs

Created with Vellum

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To Tiffany and the others who steared me in the right direction.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

A Note from the Author

Also by ID Johnson

Chapter 1

Darkness filled the room, clinging to the furniture and the walls, denying any light to penetrate, except for one pinpoint seeping its way through the keyhole of the solid oak door. Princess Katherine Helberg of Nadoria braced herself for a moment, taking a deep breath and slowly sinking into reality. It was thunder that had awoken her; it must have been, not the bone-rattling vibration of cannon fire, as she had experienced in her dream.

For a brief moment, she contemplated rising and attempting to verify that the source of her momentary panic was indeed the weather. But doing so would mean wandering into the hallway by herself, and that was not something she was willing to do without the promise of daylight. As she lay in the darkness, listening to the soft rise and fall of her lady-in-waiting’s breathing next to her, she was once again reminded of how much she hated her present situation, how desperately she wanted to return home, leaving this miserable, windowless, prison of a room and its surrounding layers far behind.

Gathering the edge of the blanket in her hand and giving a small tug to cause Joan du Bois to release a bit, she rolled over, unsure whether the extreme darkness was because her eyes had actually fallen shut again or if it was just the horrid room she now dwelt in. As dark and damp as it was at night, without a window, even the sunniest of days had little effect on changing the ambience. She heard another rumble and determined it was certainly thunder that had woken her, nothing to worry about, and contemplated going back to sleep.

It was a risky proposition, especially now that the nightmares had already begun, but then, so was staying awake. In the pitch black, it was more difficult for the shadows to form into shape-shifters. Perhaps the only positive to living in such an environment was that the ghoulish faces and bone-white fingers that had reached from behind the curtains in her own room back home each night were not able to penetrate this thick veil of blackness.

She missed Nadoria desperately and was willing to do anything to return, but she was thankful that she was no longer haunted each night while she was drifting off to sleep. No, here at Castle Blackthorn it was only when she was dreaming that she was haunted by the distant sound of cannon fire growing closer, the ghastly demonic face that stared at her through the eyes of death, and the inhuman shriek that infiltrated nearly every dream she had dreamt since she was four years old.

Sprays of ice-cold water flittered through the window, splashing over the haggard face of Matthew Caine, King of Zurconia, reaching into his deep sleep and pulling him back to where he lay in tattered bed sheets, unable to flee the attacking weather any more than he was able to escape the tower room he had called home for these last six months.

There were no curtains, no barrier at all to keep the precipitation out, nor did the thick granite walls of the precipice he teetered on keep him dry. They weren’t even windows, just arrow slits that had been chipped away at over the years by countless prisoners held here. He was certainly not the first, as one could tell by the odor left behind on his makeshift bed, and he had no reason to believe he would be the last. In fact, he was quite certain that he would be vacating the room relatively soon since his life had been threatened so many times recently.

In some respects, Matthew was very much ready to move on from this exhausting existence. He never would have imagined how much energy it took to do absolutely nothing. Though he despised his captor and would never show any sign of weakness when the malevolent King Philip of Clovington paid him a visit, his spirit had been broken even before he had been locked away in this tower. He hadn’t been himself since the night he was stolen from his home as his wife lay dying. Matthew hadn’t even been given the opportunity to tell her goodbye.

Another flash of lightning lit up the tiny room, illuminating the out-of-place bookshelf that took up almost as much space as his bed, and left him blinking and rubbing his eyes. He had been dreaming of her again, his sweet Margaret, and awoke to find himself still in purgatory with frigid pellets of water slowly soaking his sheets, his tattered clothing, his skin, his spirit. At the moment, he was even more angry to have been ripped from her arms than usual.

Sitting in the dark, Matthew’s mind began to wander back to when they had first met. Margaret was not yet queen when the pair agreed to marry. Her father, Stephen, who hailed from the kingdom Matthew was currently being held in, had lingered on his deathbed for weeks after their nuptials. The king had been carried out for the ceremony and then returned to the gold-leafed mahogany bed where he would later take his last breath.

Thunder shook the room as he remembered the first time he’d seen Margaret Diamonte, at a ball held in her honor. Matthew had never thought he would have the opportunity to marry for love. Being nobility almost certainly negated the possibility of marrying for anything other than what was best for the kingdom. Yet, the moment he first saw Margaret, he was instantly taken with her. She had been beautiful, though not in a traditional way. Her curly brown hair had a tendency to come undone around the crown of her head, forming a halo. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheekbones was particularly endearing to him. She laughed so softly that he wasn’t quite sure, at first, if she found his attempts at wit humorous, though he quickly learned that her soft tittering was simply part of her gentle nature.

It became clear very early on that Margaret’s personality was inherited from her mother, Queen Beatrice Jules of Zurconia, not Stephen Diamonte of Clovington. Beatrice was a princess, daughter of the King of Zurconian, but in her kingdom, a woman wasn’t allowed to be sole ruler of the land. So Beatrice had essentially abdicated the throne to her husband upon her arranged marriage to Stephen, who had only been a viscount, not even a duke. Exactly how that had come to pass, Matthew didn’t understand, but it had been a mistake.

When Stephen had become king, his older brother Ellias had been bitter and jealous of Stephen’s ability to scheme his way into power, even if it wasn’t in their homeland of Clovington. However, the jealousy had only lasted for a short time before an unusual and suspicious amount of deaths amongst the royal family of Clovington occurred. That and a fortunately timed wedding to a member of Clovington’s royal family had suddenly left Ellias as King of Clovington.

That, too, was short-lived as Ellias quickly met his own untimely (and equally suspicious) death, which handed the thrown over to his young son, Philip. Not quite of age at twelve, prior to his coronation, Philip’s Uncle Edward, Ellias’s younger brother, had served as ruler in his stead until Philip assumed the throne three years later at fifteen.

Matthew hadn’t known Edward at the time. But he knew him now. There was no doubt Edward was still every bit as power-hungry as his brothers, Stephen and Ellias, had been. This was evidenced by the influence he poured over Philip, and Matthew imagined that had been the case since Philip began his reign. Edward had sworn to avenge the honor of his oldest brother Ellias, which he felt had been robbed from him by the usurping nature of Stephen’s rise to power. It didn’t matter to Edward that he’d be taking the throne from his own niece, as Margaret and Philip were cousins.

Clovington had launched attack after attack on neighboring Zurconia, a kingdom that had always enjoyed a peaceful existence, and thus, had very little in the way of defenses. The citizens of Zurconia had done their best to defend their homes, but Clovington had advanced, bit by bit. Matthew had come into the situation too late to do much of anything, though he’d tried his best to build up the army. It made little difference as the kingdom began to slip out of his fingers. Then, one night in the bitterly cold winter just six months ago, only a few months into Matthew and Margaret’s reign, Castle Ringley had been breached. That was the same night his wife had been brutally murdered in front of Matthew’s eyes, and he had been carried away to this prison with little hope of rescue and an ever increasing wish for the relief of death.

Death was what had been promised to him--but not yet. There was one more little piece left in Clovington’s insidious plan. Philip had one more victim to draw out, one additional act of regicide to commit. And that was the only thing keeping Matthew alive. Preventing that act had become his sole purpose for continuing to breathe.

The lightning flashed again as the king adjusted on his cot, running his hands through his damp hair, wishing he was anywhere else in the world. If only there was someone on the other side of that locked door who could help him escape. Then, he could save his own life—and his brother’s.

Chapter 2

The morning after the storm, Princess Katherine awoke feeling groggy and irritable. Joan was still fast asleep when Katherine began to stir, and though it was impossible to tell the time in the windowless room without a clock, Katherine could tell by her own body that the sun was up, and she would most likely be safe to make her way into the hall.

She contemplated waking Joan, but she decided against it. She was fully capable of dressing herself in a simple gown and undergarments, so she did so and made her way silently into the hallway. Practically running to the window at the end of the corridor, she let the light embrace her and assure her that day had come. The princess was free from her lingering demons for the next several hours. Katherine took a deep breath, as if she was able to inhale the sunshine and absorb it. Once she finally felt she had basked in the morning glow long enough, she glided down the nearby stairwell, her stomach suddenly reminding her it was time to break her fast.

Walking along the dark hallways of Castle Blackthorn, Katherine considered how she’d come to this place. She had arrived at the castle a little over two weeks ago, but her wedding to King Philip had been negotiated long before she came of age, and she had known for several years that someday she would marry Philip and become Queen Katherine of Clovington.

Katherine had always been indifferent to the idea of marriage. She knew it was a necessity, since she was a royal, but it wasn’t something she looked forward to. In her experience, most men were cruel and took what they wanted when they wanted it, with the exception, of course, of her sweet brother Prince James and her brother-in-law Kenneth Pierce, Duke of Mountaque, who was married to her sister, Queen Eleanora. Kenneth’s title was still duke, not king. No, Eleanora would never yield the smallest amount of her power to anyone, not even her own husband.

Yet, Eleanora had no problem arranging this marriage for Katherine. Her sister’s hand was not such a hard bargain to drive. Even before Philip’s father mysteriously died, Eleanora had been in negotiations with other members of the royal family of Clovington, assured that a match between little Katherine and young Philip would create a blissful state of peace between Katherine’s beloved Nadoria and the warmongering Clovington.

Katherine had almost reached the kitchen. The scent of baking bread wafted through the air as thoughts of Nadoria had her missing her homeland. It was a port kingdom, bordered by a high range of mountains to the north with three deep bays to the west, allowing easy trade by sea with any kingdom with marketable goods. She knew why Philip had wanted to marry her. Nadoria would be an ideal ally to landlocked Clovington. Her sister’s navy was strong, as was the army that protected the Nadorian border. Katherine was a prize to be won.

Likewise, Nadoria would benefit from the guarantee of peace with its most threatening neighbor. Though Eleanora loved her much younger sister dearly, she had not hesitated to make arrangements that would benefit her kingdom, and the small expense of her sister’s potential happiness had been of little consequence at the time so many years ago. If Eleanora had it all to do again, Katherine couldn’t say for sure if she would make the same choice now, but it didn’t matter. The agreement had been signed years ago.

For all of those years, Katherine had been preparing herself for her journey to Blackthorn. She had been granted more time with her family throughout the years due to the constant state of war Clovington had been in for as long as she could remember. War meant home for Katherine, so each time she’d heard of Clovington attacking another neighbor, she had breathed a sigh of relief.

Since Katherine’s sixteenth birthday, almost four years ago, the halls of Castle Meadington had whispered with rumors that the time had come. With each rise in the wave of secreted remarks, Katherine braced herself for a summons to her sister’s court. However, those waves would crest, washed away by reports of battles raging on the northern side of Clovington, and Katherine would relax into her normal routine for a period of time until the walls began to speak her name in conjunction with King Philip again.

If there was a rumor, Katherine was sure to hear it. She knew every passageway, every tunnel, every dark nook and cranny of Castle Meadington, and she used this to her advantage. She did not consider herself an eavesdropper, but her virtual invisibility due to her diminutive stature and quiet nature allowed her to often go unnoticed in a crowded room. These characteristics lent themselves to her ability to find out information like no one else. Often, people tended to speak about Katherine as if she wasn’t present and make statements to her, or in front of her, that they would never want to hear repeated. There was a very good reason for this. No one ever worried about Katherine repeating anything because she never did.

Katherine was mute.

Passing a servant woman in the hall just outside the kitchen, the princess smiled warmly. In her plain dress, she realized the maid might not recognize her, which was all right with the princess. Smiling, the older woman said, “Good morrow,” and Katherine nodded in return, watching the woman slow and study her for a moment before hurrying on. It was a normal reaction, others waiting to see if she would respond to their greeting. Katherine tried not to let it bother her and ducked into the kitchen to find something to eat.

The kitchen staff was bustling about, preparing food for the other nobles who occupied the castle. Katherine never cared for an elaborate meal this early in the morning and was thankful Philip never invited her to such an event. She stood on the periphery a long moment and then waited to pluck an apple and a small loaf of bread from one of the baskets on the counter. No one seemed to see her, so she slipped them into her pocket and headed out the door, back into the halls of Castle Blackthorn.

Walking along toward her own chambers, Katherine thought about what her sister, Eleanora, had said to her upon her departure. The princess had been worried about meeting Philip for the first time, not knowing what he may think of her. “Don’t worry, little one,” Eleanora had said, addressing her as if she was the same four-year-old she’d been the last time Katherine had spoken. “He will be taken aback by your beauty. Your eyes are the color of the ocean, your auburn hair as stunning as the rising sun. When a young man dreams of meeting a princess, it is a face like yours he wishes to see. You will not disappoint King Philip. Every man who lays eyes on you is instantly infatuated with your beautiful smile.”

Katherine had grinned at her sister, glad to hear the queen thought she was so lovely, but it hadn’t truly set her mind at ease. While every citizen of Nadoria knew Katherine’s situation—that she didn’t speak—how would the aristocrats of Clovington react to her differences? More importantly, how would Philip? While she was certain her sister had explained the situation to him, hearing of her inability to communicate through spoken language and experiencing it for one’s self were two different things.

Many visitors from other kingdoms over the years had felt inclined to test the situation for themselves, and Philip had been no different. Katherine took a bite from her apple and thought about the day she’d met him in the throne room, here at Castle Blackthorn. She’d thought he was handsome, but her nerves had overcome her. She’d stood before him, her hands shaking beneath her cloak.

Philip had taken her in, his dark eyes piercing through her outer layer of clothing, and then began some polite conversation, including questions for which she could not nod or shake her head in response. Philip had seemed slightly annoyed at that first encounter, but he hadn’t been angry or disappointed.

That would come later, at dinner. Though Katherine had done her best to answer what she could, signaling when possible, it was truly up to her lady-in-waiting, Joan, to answer on her behalf. Joan was almost always by Katherine’s side for just this purpose, if nothing else, and while Philip seemed bothered by her presence at first, he eventually began to adjust his conversation to include questions that Joan could answer for the princess. Thus, Philip began to speak about Katherine in her presence as if she was not there. She was used to this as most people had done the same as far back as she could remember, but she had hoped it would be different with her husband-to-be. That first night, it had become apparent to Katherine that there was no chance that she could ever fall in love with King Philip.

This had only been mildly disappointing. She did not trust men as a general rule, and seeing Philip as a potential love interest would only complicate her feelings about members of the opposite sex. She did find him attractive, though. There was something about his rugged appearance, his strong square jaw, the way he commanded the room, which stirred feelings inside of Katherine that she had never experienced before. She couldn’t quite explain even to herself what this feeling was, but she noticed it each time he was near, and it both alarmed and excited her. This was further complicated by the fact that she quickly confirmed Philip was a terrible person, and she was terrified of being left alone with him, especially in the dark.

In the dimly lit passages of Castle Meadington, Katherine had heard stories of King Philip’s crimes against humanity, particularly against the citizens of Zurconia, their beloved queen, and her loving husband. She had thought, at the time, before she came to Blackthorn, perhaps these were just rumors. The people of Meadington liked to tell stories, to elaborate. The tales made her uncomfortable, but she did her best to stay true to the man she would marry and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Then, she’d come to Blackthorn and found they weren’t made-up stories at all. The same rumors she’d heard before she’d come to meet her husband-to-be echoed from the lips of the servants here when they assumed no one was listening. Though Katherine was indifferent to the idea of marrying Philip, or anyone for that matter, she did not approve of his tactics, and her heart ached for the captured king she knew dwelt somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. If Philip could be so cruel to King Matthew and his wife, who was to say he wouldn’t do something similar to her?

In the few days she had lived within the damp, moss-covered walls of the sprawling complex of winding passages, secret hallways, and cavernous tunnels known as Blackthorn, she had yet to discover where the captured king was being held. Just as she was able to pass almost undetected through the maze in her own home of Meadington, she quickly learned to navigate through Blackthorn without as much as an inquisitive glance from the other inhabitants. With little else to keep her occupied during the day, she had decided to use these skills to begin her quest to find King Matthew, though she had no idea what she might do if she were able to locate him. It wasn’t as if she’d ever have the power to set him free, not even once she became queen.

So far, she had only covered a small portion of the fortress, but she knew that, if she continued to use her ability to listen in on secretive conversations to her advantage, she would soon ascertain exactly where the widower king was living out his numbered days.

In the meantime, she knew Philip had plans to draw out Matthew’s beloved brother and finish him off in one apocalyptic battle. She heard members of the military discussing strategies behind closed doors and even in the hallway. His plans were faulty, however. Philip wasn’t winning this war as easily as he had when Zurconia had been the goal, and with the king preoccupied with defeating King Caleb of Arteria, it seemed Katherine’s wedding just might have to wait. The princess was not upset by this in the least.

Philip’s frustration at the situation came through in every conversation, every order, every flinch of his fist, and grimace on his handsome face. The walls were whispering again, and Katherine would use their information for her gain. She knew there was not much she would be able to do to help the captive king once his location was determined, but she felt compelled to find him as quickly as possible, and she had learned from experience to listen to that small voice inside.

Though it was still relatively early, the halls were beginning to bustle with activity. Katherine knew that she had been right to initially question whether those rumbles the night before had been of a more sinister nature. Something was astir.

When she’d first arrived, Philip had mentioned the possibility of spending a great deal of time with Katherine, but that had been nothing more than wishful thinking on his part. Katherine knew she probably would not see him much, if it all, that day. She might dine with him for the evening meal if his schedule allowed. If not, she’d eat in her own chambers with Joan, thankful that she was only required to share the company of someone she cared for.

Back in the more familiar area of Blackthorn, Katherine continued to munch on her apple as she made her way into the library. This was one of her favorite places at Blackthorn and one of the only rooms with enough natural light to be considered acceptable in Katherine’s opinion. She also found that, due to the close proximity to the war room, many interesting conversations took place in this space, often without any acknowledgement whatsoever that she was even present. She found out a lot of information from her “fellow bibliophiles” and spent many hours gathering tidbits while snuggled in a comfortable chair under the sheepskin blanket near the fireplace.

The princess selected one of her favorite books from a shelf by the window, assumed her normal seat, and almost lost herself in an incredible story from a far-off land just before she detected footsteps outside of the door. With hushed voices, two men entered the room, and her eyes ceased scanning the words while the story she was weaving quickly lost every ounce of fiction.

Katherine knew that Philip’s Uncle Edward was one of the men who had entered the room before she even heard his voice. Approaching sixty and suffering from complications from obesity, Edward carried around him a distinct cloud of odiferous objectionable identifiers. A pungent mixture of salve, herbal remedies, and body odor, Edward announced his pending arrival moments before he actually reached one’s field of vision. He also walked with a scraping limp, which would have aided even the weakest-of-nose in determining his identity before he drew near.

“The Tower at Glendor should have held. I cannot for the life of me understand how it was breached. Two thousand men. Two thousand men!” he spat at whomever was accompanying him. Katherine still could not tell who the slighter of the two men was, perhaps a leader of one of Philip’s armies or another of his advisors. She held her book still in front of her, the apple core in her hand dangling in front of her chin as she listened.

The two men were still out of her direct line of vision, but Katherine could see their shadows just inside the doorway. It was as if they had ducked in to speak in private, not realizing, or perhaps not caring, that Katherine was also in the room.

“Yes, sir,” the other man replied. Katherine heard the clanking of chainmail, an indicator that this man was part of Philip’s army. “We believed the wall to be impenetrable, particularly so near the tower, but they found a way to get through. We had them outnumbered two-to-one! But, well,” he stammered, apparently still unsure of exactly how to explain what had happened, “once they broke the line, the troops began to fall back. I could not… we could not hold them.”

Edward slammed his fist against the wall. Katherine jumped as the reverberation filled the space around her. They still did not take note of her presence. “Listen, Cuthbert,” he said, pounding the soldier on the arm, “It does not matter to me what you thought could or could not happen. What has transpired is that the Arterian Army is pouring past our last line of defense. At the current rate, they will be standing in these very halls in less than two weeks. That does not happen. Re-gather your troops. Form a new last line of defense. Use the thick swamp of the Lowetian Forest to your advantage, and hem them in. King Philip may not understand the implications of this breach, but I do!” There was another blow to the wall, this one even harder. Edward, unable to control his rage, grabbed Cuthbert and slammed him up against the hard oak door. “This infiltration goes no further! Find a way to stop them!”

Cuthbert grimaced, his air cut off from the large, gnarly hand near his throat. Katherine tried not to gasp as she watched the soldier struggling to breathe. “Yes, yes, sir. I will.”

Edward stared forebodingly at the smaller man. “Good.” He patted Cuthbert on the shoulder, a jarring motion that did not match his affirmative words. “Good, you do that. You find a way. Or else, I am holding you personally responsible.” He finally released Cuthbert, who reached up to rub his arm but thought better of it, though it was likely already beginning to ache. “Now, let’s go up to the tower and pay our guest a visit. Let’s see if we can get him to tell us some information that will be helpful to our cause.” Edward began his slow, cacophonous march out of the library and down the hall, Cuthbert behind him.

Katherine waited a moment for them to move away from the door. She knew they were going to see King Matthew, and she wanted to follow them, but she also wanted to avoid being detected. There was no way they would knowingly let her trail after them. At least now she knew Matthew was being held in one of the towers. Unfortunately, Castle Blackthorn had several ominous black towers with high, pointed parapets that jetted out of the structure like thorns. She heard Edward down the hall, approaching a turn, and decided it was time to follow.

Silently placing the book back on the shelf, she tossed the apple core out the window and then made her way to the door, peeking down the hall before opening it and slipping out. She could just see the heel of Cuthbert’s black military boot rounding the corner to the right. She knew that the hall only had one possible next turn, to the left, so she took extra precaution to be quiet as she made her way after them.

She almost didn’t make it to the end in time to see where the pair went. It was not to the left as she had anticipated. The princess watched as the two men created an opening in the wall. There had to be a secret button somewhere that caused the wall to slide open.

Katherine ducked around the corner, just in time to avoid being seen by Edward as he glanced over his crooked shoulder to make sure they were not being followed. Then, he and his still visibly shaken minion disappeared into what should have been solid stone, and the wall closed behind them.

Katherine hesitated. Knowing there was a secret passage in the wall got her that much closer to finding Matthew, yet following now could be extremely dangerous. She was not sure what might be on the other side of the secret door. It could be an easily navigable path that allowed her to follow in secret, or she could find herself in a situation where she was trapped. It would not be easy to explain what she was doing in a secret passage, especially without being able to speak, so she needed to be extremely cautious. Edward did not seem the type to show leniency to snooping newcomers.

She decided to wait. If Edward and Cuthbert came out the same way that they went in, there was a good possibility that she would be able to find Matthew without having to follow anyone. If they did not, that meant there were other secret passages here, and she may have more trouble. Nevertheless, she now knew two critical pieces of information: Matthew was being held in a tower, and the way to reach him lie somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. Katherine retreated back into the shadows, prepared to wait as long as necessary.

Chapter 3

Matthew sprawled on his straw mattress, attempting to avoid the prickly pieces of hay sticking out in all directions from almost every inch of the ancient, rotting material. He always had plenty of warning when Edward was making his ascent up the stairwell right outside of his abode. Either the stench would hit him full in the face first, or he would hear the thumping, scraping sound of his useless foot as he struggled to pull it up the stairs. Today, it had been the smell that reached him first. Matthew let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

Edward never visited alone. He always had one or two lackeys with him to do his dirty work. Just thinking about his last visit left Matthew rubbing his jaw and feeling for the healing gashes covering his back and shoulders. He did not look forward to Edward stopping by, but it usually meant that Caleb was winning, and if Caleb was winning, then, perhaps, he would be free soon.

Or, on the other hand, if Caleb was winning, it might mean Matthew was soon to meet his executioner.

Either way, he wouldn’t be spending too much more time in this filthy hovel, so Edward’s visits were not as negative as one might think.

There was no way for Matthew to actually see who was at the door. Only a small slot, surrounded by black iron, broke the solid wood, and it was covered by a swinging door. Once a day, some poor hack from the kitchen would slide him a small portion of gruel through the opening. That was his only contact with the outside world, other than visits from Edward or Philip.

If the king really wanted to know who was coming, he supposed he could get down on his knees and peek through the little slot to view the person’s shins, but there wasn’t much sense in that. So he waited patiently for Edward to make his way to the top of the stairs, curious as to whether or not the jingling of chainmail was one lackey or two.

A rattle of keys, a little huffing and puffing from his primary captor, and the door flew open, bringing with it a new waft of putrefied air. Matthew stayed sitting on his crude bed, not bothering to stand as Edward and his companion, a new face to Matthew, though surely as inconsequential as all of the other minions before him, made their way into the small, circular room.

This new person stared at Matthew as if he was expecting something else, as if he had no idea what six months of confinement and torture could do to anyone, even a king. It took a quick blow from Edward to make the younger man remember himself.

“Well, Your Majesty,” Edward began in his snarly croak of a voice, “how did you get along in the storm last night?”

“Slept like a baby,” Matthew chided. He still didn’t move. No reason to waste energy on these two, not yet.

“I find that very unlikely,” Edward said, his eyes flickering from the soggy bed sheets to the puddles still accumulated under the arrow slits on the floor.

Matthew ignored him, sitting with his knees bent, arms hung loosely as if nothing horrible was about to happen.

“Matthew, this is my….” Edward seemed to be struggling for the right word, and Matthew wondered why, though he wasn’t about to ask. “Associate, Sir Reginald Cuthbert.” Perhaps the nearness of the Arterian Army had Edward questioning his relationship with a commander in his own kingdom’s defenses.

Cuthbert slowly nodded at Matthew, his demeanor beginning to change, as if he was suddenly remembering that he was an officer in the army, a man of power, a man with a purpose. And his purpose just now was to hurt King Matthew of Zurconia, to hurt him and make him pay for his brother’s recent victory.

Occasionally, Matthew would entertain himself by acting overly formal when being introduced to one of the men whose sole purpose in meeting him was to beat the bloody hell out of him. Today, he was not in the mood. He was ready to just get it over with. He met Cuthbert’s eyes with an equally steel-like stare, held his gaze for a moment, and waited for the other man to look away. It did not take long. Cuthbert was weak. No wonder Caleb was able to decimate his army so easily. If only Matthew had had any sort of understanding of the forces he was dealing with before Zurconia was overrun by these ill-trained, but staggeringly plentiful, barbarians, perhaps he would not be sitting a captive today.

Edward seemed to notice Cuthbert’s state of intimidation and became even more irritated. Nevertheless, Matthew was about to pay for his brother’s transgressions, even if Edward had to mete the punishment out himself. “We are in need of your assistance, Your Royal Highness,” Edward stated, his words dripping with sarcasm and loathing. “It seems that your older brother has somehow gotten his hands on some very important architectural renderings of battlements. Perhaps, you might have some idea as to where he obtained these sketches and what other information he may have managed to procure.”

Matthew chuckled loudly, despite the fact that he knew it would only anger Edward, which it did. He laughed even more to see Edward’s jaw tense up and a bright hue of red begin to creep up his wrinkly, wart-covered neck. “I apologize, but I really cannot be of assistance with that. However, it is nice to know Caleb has his sources.”

Matthew actually didn’t believe for a second that his older brother was able to gain victory because some disgruntled member of the royal family had leaked information to him. No, he was quite sure that Caleb’s army would be able to defeat Philip’s troops in almost any circumstance simply because Caleb was hell-bent on releasing Matthew from this prison. That, and there simply was no stronger military mind in the world than Caleb of Arteria.

It was just a matter of time.

For now, it seemed Matthew was out of that particular commodity.

The king watched between narrowed eyes as Cuthbert removed a gauntlet and stepped forward. Matthew braced himself for what he knew was coming. There was little he could do but sit and take it, and as the soldier raised his hand to swing, the captive king held his gaze. This may be Edward’s only measure of satisfaction, but Matthew refused to let them see him flinch.

If Katherine had been praying for a sign, then surely she had received one, although this was not exactly what she’d had in mind. She’d waited about an hour for the two men to finally come out of the secret tunnel in the wall. Interestingly enough, the stone she needed to push so that the wall would open up had actually moved when Edward and Cuthbert came back out, so she was easily able to tell what she needed to do to find Matthew. Beyond that, they had left a trail, a sticky, red, coagulated trail. Dark crimson splashes lined the floor all the way up the secret staircase, turning and winding, sometimes dripping from one cold stone step to the next, leading right to a solid oak door with a slight slit, just wide enough for a small dish. Behind it, even from her position several steps from the landing at the top of the stairs, she could hear what sounded like muffled moans coming from the poor soul locked on the other side.

It was the king in there; she was sure of it. Katherine stood perfectly still at the top of the stairs and pondered her next move. She could hear his moans shift into something she hadn’t expected at all. It sounded like laughter, as if he had lost his mind entirely and somehow found the situation humorous. The blood on the floor had to be his, yet King Matthew was laughing.

“You’re losing,” he said quietly, and Katherine caught her breath, wondering if he had heard her. She quickly realized he was talking to the two men who had just left. “You bastards are losing, and the only way you can make yourselves feel better about the situation is to beat the hell out of me. Well, go ahead! Caleb will be through your flimsy defenses in a matter of days! A matter of days!”

He was yelling now, and Katherine suddenly felt as if she were intruding. He had no way of knowing she was there, that she was listening to him. He said a few swear words before he asked aloud, “What the hell did you do to my head? Damn, so much blood. Blood everywhere. Sons of bitches.”

She wished she could help, that she could do something to stop the bleeding and end the pain for him, but she hadn’t brought anything with her, and she couldn’t get inside of the cell anyway. Realizing that finding King Matthew had done neither of them any good, Katherine let out a sigh and took a step back away from the door.

“Is someone there?”

He’d heard her. Somehow, he’d noticed her. No one ever noticed her, and yet, this king, who was being held against his will on the other side of a thick door, bleeding profusely, had taken note of her existence. Katherine’s eyes widened as she stared at the door.

He called out again. “Pardon? Is anyone there?”

The princess couldn’t decide whether to move forward, toward the door and the man who needed her help, or to back away down the stairs—to what should’ve been considered safety. She stood frozen for a long moment, listening to her shallow breaths and to Matthew’s raspy ones from within the chamber. Then, Katherine did the only thing she could do; she turned and hurried back down the stairs, hoping her footsteps were undetectable both to the king and to anyone who might be walking past the invisible passage in the hall outside of the door.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she took a moment to catch her breath before she slowly pushed the heavy door open. Glancing through the crack in both directions, she saw no one, so she crept into the hallway, shutting the wall behind her. Now that she had found the captive king, Princess Katherine had some decisions to make, and nothing about what would come next would be easy.

Blood soaked the so-called mattress, as well as the sheets, and was pooling on the floor next to the bed. Cuthbert may have seemed like a complete pussy, but once Edward had made him mad enough, the soldier had unleashed some devastating blows. In fact, Matthew was confident the wound to his scalp was significant, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to remain conscious.

Edward had needed to pull Cuthbert off of him when merely ordering his attacker to stop before he killed their one asset had done nothing but make Cuthbert hit him harder. Matthew was also bleeding from a gash above his eye, the blood creating a veil, making it difficult to see. As soon as the pair had left, Matthew had collapsed on the bed, hoping to lose consciousness, part of him praying he could lose it for good.

His emotions were all over the place, and he couldn’t help but shout about the injustice, though he knew his assailants were long gone. Just as he’d begun to calm down, he thought he’d heard a quiet footfall on the stairs. He’d braced himself for a moment, afraid perhaps his tormentors had returned. But he knew there was no way that Edward could ever be so quiet, so his temporary fear had morphed quickly into curiosity. He’d propped himself up on one arm and listened.

He’d thought he heard a small sigh and called out, but there was no answer, and then, a few seconds later, perhaps the sound of rushed footsteps on the stairs. But if anyone had been there, he was certain they were gone now. Matthew was all alone again with only his own thoughts to keep him company.

The possibility of fading away from reality seemed promising once more, and with his head still bleeding profusely, King Matthew of Zurconia closed his eyes and sank into oblivion.

Chapter 4

King Philip rolled over, untwisting the bed sheets with one hand as he tumbled away from the naked redhead sprawled beside him. She was a temporary fix. No amount of sleeping with whores was going to solve the problems he was facing. An invading army practically knocking on his door while all of his generals showed their incompetence, a mute princess who shuddered every time he so much as touched her arm, and an odiferous uncle who constantly seemed to forget who was ruler of this kingdom and who was merely an out-of-breath, sick, old prude.

Even the soft moans coming from the girl next to him were not enough to quell his anger for long. He was a good lover; of course he was, but she was overly dramatic, and it often made him want to slap her across the face when they were done. However, she was also convenient, and that’s what he’d needed this day. A quick lay and then back to the war room, back to tactics and defense, and all of those things he wished he could simply delegate to someone else. Unfortunately, there was no one else competent enough to handle any of it. Hell, his men couldn’t even execute his well-thought out plans, much less design the concepts. He was beginning to think this war his uncle had pressed upon him was a costly mistake and that he was going to end up losing his entire kingdom based on the ill-conceived notions of vengeance his ancient uncle had generated far too many years ago.

The girl, Rose, stirred beside him, pulling the sheets up around her. She gathered them between her large breasts so he could still see exactly what she had to offer, but Philip wasn’t looking for another round. Ignoring her, he stared up at the ceiling, trying not to let the woman get on his nerves. She should consider herself extremely fortunate to be sharing the king’s bed. He knew she was ambitious, and for her, this was as much as she could possibly ever hope to accomplish.

Her blue eyes weighed heavily on the side of his face as she rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand and gazing at him as if she were trying to read his mind. Philip scowled. She’d better not dare to ask what he was thinking. Such questions after sex often made him extremely irritable, and on more than one occasion, he had been about to throw her out into the hallway in the nude for her stupid inquisitions.

Philip ran a hand across his chest. It wasn’t Rose’s fault she wanted him again. With his muscular frame, dark brown eyes, and chiseled jaw, he always had that effect on women. His eyes darted to her and then away again, wishing she would just leave. With one arm tucked under his head, she could see that he was not resting but contemplating something important, couldn’t she? How had she not learned over the years it was best for her not to interfere with his thoughts? Despite the fact that she was a cheap harlot, he knew she wasn’t unintelligent. It was too bad she didn’t just get up and go without him having to throw her out on her plump bum.

As Philip lay there next to one redhead, his mind wandered to the other. Though he had been told that Katherine did not speak, he had been utterly baffled when he’d met her, and she literally would not say a word. He could not wrap his mind around how someone would simply choose not to talk for over a decade. She was fully capable of speaking; she just chose not to! He’d thought for sure that she would meet him and suddenly remember why it was so important to be able to communicate, that somehow his attractiveness would bring her around. Of course, that had not happened, and he was completely put-off by it.

Unfortunately for him, however, his body seemed to want to sabotage him. Every time he was around the princess, he began to physically respond to her. He wanted to strip her naked, tie her to the bedpost, and make her scream his name. It was a challenge he was looking forward to taking on soon. In fact, he should have married her and had his way with her years ago. But war after war had impeded his ability to settle long enough and move forward with the nuptials. And while he had no issue with sexual relations outside of wedlock, he knew the princess’s sister, Queen Eleanora, would see matters differently.

He needed to keep the queen happy. The further into his kingdom the invading Arterians got, the more he knew he could use some assistance from Nadoria. The neighboring kingdom was extremely wealthy. Nadoria had the means to acquire weapons and mercenaries on behalf of Clovington. However, he had to complete the transaction with Nadoria in order to formally request their assistance against the Arterians, which had led to him sending for his wife-to-be after all of these years of avoiding the inevitable and tying himself down in marriage.

Although he had mentioned his need for more soldiers, properly trained and disciplined soldiers, before he’d sent for Katherine, Queen Eleanora and her worthless husband Kenneth had replied to his correspondence with, “We will consider Clovington our full ally once the wedding ceremony has been performed and the marriage is consummated.” Those words had prompted him to send for his blushing bride, and she had arrived on his doorstep just a few weeks later, no pomp or circumstance, just one lady-in-waiting, a couple of footmen who’d scuttled back to Nadoria, a few trunks of clothing, and a chest full of precious gems intended as a dowry. Those riches must now be used to fund the rebuilding of the Tower at Glendor which had recently been annihilated by the Arterians.

He had already spent some of those jewels, however, so he was hoping that his other inquiry would come through. Philip had sent a messenger to his distant cousin Leopold, King of Gradenia, a savage and ruthless group of rogues to his north, hoping to pique his interest and perhaps win his assistance with the refute of Caleb’s infiltrating army. Philip knew that Leopold had personal issues with Caleb, though he wasn’t sure exactly why, and he hoped to prey upon that hatred and use it to his advantage.

But it had been almost two weeks, and he had heard nothing. His messenger had returned with little more than shrugging shoulders. Philip hated being ignored. Thinking about this situation angered him all over again. With a loathsome sigh, he pulled himself up from the bed and got dressed, ready to head back to the war room and come up with some solutions.

Rose’s voice behind him was a reminder that he was not alone. He had forgotten for a few moments that the slut was even in the room. “Are you leaving?” she asked groggily. He didn’t bother to answer her as he finished pulling his tunic over his head and pushed into his boots. Wasn’t it obvious what he was doing? As he walked toward the door, he heard her say, “Call on me anytime, Your Majesty.”

Her comments only annoyed him further and he stomped off in the direction of his war room in an even worse mood than before. “At least,” he mumbled aloud, “a mute wouldn’t make such asinine comments!”

Rose Baker had thought perhaps she could interest the king in another round before he headed out of the room in a huff, leaving her lying on his bed alone. Though he had satisfied her, as he always did, she was always willing to give him multiple opportunities. Running a hand through her long red hair, she contemplated what she could’ve done differently. Perhaps she should have taken hold of his cock to entice him, but she could tell by his demeanor that he was not in the mood.

It had probably been in her best interest to slip quietly out the door, but it was times like this when she allowed herself to imagine, for just a few moments, what it would be like to actually be the queen. So, she’d rolled onto her back, adjusted the sheets, and lay very still, daydreaming of being a royal while the actual king was likely contemplating how to defeat an army that was advancing further into his kingdom each day. She was an intelligent woman, despite her station, and was aware that the Arterians were closing in, though Philip never spoke a word to her about the situation. When he stormed out of the room, off to meet with his lackeys, she assumed, she prayed he’d find a way to stop the attacking army.

She should probably leave, but there was no one telling her to do so. Rose settled against the satiny pillows and closed her eyes, trying her best to pretend she truly was queen, that Philip was her husband, and this was her bed. Despite the luxury all around her, she was having difficulty getting over the fact that the soon-to-be-queen was now present somewhere in this very castle. She had known for a long time that Philip was to wed Princess Katherine of Nadoria. Everyone knew that. Honestly, the idea of him marrying royalty was actually more pleasant to her than the knowledge that she was not his only source of pleasure amongst the rabble. She wasn’t supposed to be able to compete with a princess, but it made her mad as bloody hell to hear when he had shagged some other wretched member of the lower class. The king bedding a noble was much more acceptable than the thought of her Philip with someone else on the same lowly level as Rose herself.

She didn’t think Katherine would be too much of a threat. She was strikingly beautiful, that was for certain, but the princess had some enormous personality issues that Rose believed the girl would not be able to overcome. Philip might be married to Princess Katherine, but Rose was planning on staying his primary partner between the sheets.

It might be hours before Philip returned. If Rose was still there when he did so, the king would be angry. She’d deal with that when it happened. For now, she pulled the lush bedspread up over her naked body and closed her eyes, praying her dreams would be even better than her current reality.

It was getting late in the afternoon when Katherine ascended the stairs for the second time. Part of her considered darkness an asset since it was always easier for her to go undetected when there was little light. But she did not like being alone in the castle after nightfall. She didn’t like being alone anywhere after nightfall. So she didn’t plan for her trip to take long. Besides, the princess was expected to dine with King Philip that evening, so she must be back promptly.

As she grew nearer to the top of the staircase, she heard a song coming from the room behind the oak door. Matthew was singing, softly and faintly, but singing nonetheless. She paused for a second, recognizing the tune. It was an old ballad about lost love, one her mother used to sing from time to time. It stirred faint memories, and for a moment, Katherine lost herself in emotion, remembering her sweet mother and longing for her embrace.

The princess shook her head, clearing those thoughts and returning to her current mission. The bloodstains still trailed down the stairs, and as she approached the door, she noticed a larger puddle. Her eyes fixated on the crimson stain, and for a long moment, she wasn’t able to pull them away. It reminded her of a similar pool of blood, one she would never be able to erase from her memory. Eventually, she pushed those thoughts aside. Katherine had duties to perform.

The blood made her shudder as she thought about what they must have done to the poor young man on the other side of that door. It seemed strange, but that’s how she thought of him at the moment, just a poor young man. He had been torn from his family, held captive, frequently beaten, starved, and denied access to any comfort whatsoever. It didn’t really matter his title or lineage under these circumstances. Pain was pain regardless of station.

That’s why she had walked away earlier. She’d needed to collect some items to slide through the little slot in the door.

This time, he didn’t seem to hear her approach. She paused for a second outside the bloody door, not sure what to do. Without speaking, it was difficult to announce her arrival. Finally, Katherine decided to try knocking. She tapped gently against the solid oak door and waited for an acknowledgement.

Matthew stopped singing. She imagined he wasn’t sure if he had heard something or not. He’d called out to her earlier, so Katherine decided to wait and see if he did so again. Another moment passed, and he said nothing, so she knocked again. In a raspy voice, the king on the other side of the door whispered, “Is someone there?”

This was another tricky situation for Katherine. Since she could not verbally respond, she decided to slide the first gift through the door. It was a book, the thinnest one she could find in the library. She wasn’t quite sure if it would fit, and it took a little bit of effort, but after working it back and forth against the sides of the slot, she was able to slide it through. She didn’t want to drop it, however, because she wasn’t sure how much blood there might be on the other side of the door, so she held it in place, hoping Matthew would take it.

The princess could only imagine what he must be thinking, seeing the book sticking through the door and yet hearing nothing. Waiting, she listened to the noise on the other side of the door. A creak she imagined was the bed and then footsteps before there was tension on the end of the book. She released it into his hand, and he pulled it through. “Pardon? Who is there?”

Katherine did not answer, of course. Instead, she took the clean strips of cloth she had brought with her and thrust them through the slot, thinking he might want to use them as bandages. She held them patiently, waiting for him to take them.

Matthew’s hand took hold of the linen. “Thank you,” he said cautiously. “Who… who’s there?”

Again, she didn’t answer, just offered another gift. Thin cuts of meat, some cheese, even a thinly sliced apple, each slid through the door as efficiently as possible. She heard him gasp and wondered if Matthew was tempted to shove each piece directly into his mouth. He didn’t, though. Through the tiny slit, she could see him sitting them down on the strips of cloth and imagined he’d want to know the source before he consumed anything. “Unbelievable,” he mumbled. “Thank you! Thank you so much. Please, tell me your name!”