Page 20 of Settle Down, Princess

And when we all turned to look at them, I froze in place as an icy wave of recognition washed through me.

I’d heard the maids talk about how handsome the men from the Kheanian contingent were: how one had hair of gold, while another’s hair was night-black; that one wore a massive sword, and the last had eyes like a beast, not a man. As the four of them rode closer, I stared openly, unable to look away, even when my father hissed at me to smile and ready myself to greet them. And the reason for that was because my escorts—the men I was supposed to seduce and make loyal to me alone—were no strangers. Arik sat tall in the saddle, a sardonic twist of a smile on his lips, Creed drove the carriage forward, as Roan, and Silas sat astride their horses beside him.

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.”

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