Page 41 of Settle Down, Princess

“And that would serve what purpose?” I’d asked.

“You’ll be able to slip away then, out the back door.” He’d looked at me plainly. “I know some fellas who’d help a lady in need. Tough ones too, that’d fight off each one of your captors if that’s what it came to.”

And that was when I felt a pang.

The idea of any of them being hurt… Well, not Arik—there’d be a unique kind of pleasure in paying a man to conk the arrogant idiot on the head with the pommel of their sword. Instead what flashed through my mind was Roan and his heroic leap across the river to lop off the catamount’s head, then Creed, with his focus on my wellbeing with provision of calming teas and hearty meals, and even Silas, taking the time to show me how to defend myself. I stared at the steam curling off the bath, seeing each one of them set upon by these men Rion mentioned and frowned.

“They won’t need to fight off anyone,” I’d assured the boy. “I’ll ensure that my captors are otherwise occupied. So, I’m to meet you out the back door…?”

I emerged from the bath, rosy and dripping, knowing what I must do, rehearsing the steps as I pulled on fresh underwear and a new dress. I bundled what clothes I’d absolutely need into one bag and set it beside the door. The bag my mother had given me, the assassin’s bag, sat on my bed, and my hand hovered over it.

Would I need it? Surely not, when I’d be paying men good gold to protect me. Then I remembered how so much of the past few days hadn’t gone the way I’d expected it to, so I grabbed it and dumped it down beside the bag I would take when I made a break for it. I put my poison ring back on, then went to strap on my most important accessory.

Silas’ knife didn’t match the sheath. It was too long, so it hung out at the end. And it was all black perfection, whereas the knife that my mother had given me was smaller, more delicate, more befitting a lady. I strapped the leather around my thigh, then shoved the knife into it, leaving the high split in my skirts unbuttoned. Then I stared into the cracked mirror above the washstand and made the last necessary arrangements.

I needed to inspire lust without being expected to satisfy it, which was fortunately something princesses excelled at. What were all the elegant outfits and intricate dances but the bobbing and weaving of birds in a mating ritual? I tugged the sleeves of my dress down until they sat on my shoulders, creating a low-cut bateau neckline. One good yank and my breasts would be spilling bare. Imagining it had my tongue flicking over my lips because the thought of stirring their memories of me doing so made me think of that night again.

Remembering it all now that I was clear headed took my breath away at how bold I’d been, going from virginal princess to a slattern who was prepared to bare herself before four strangers. Why? Because it had all felt so good. My finger slid along my neckline, feeling the taut fabric, wishing that I didn’t need to go to other men for assistance to get away from the king.

What if these men were the ones to help me escape my fate? That dream was one that would have me stepping out of this room and into theirs, where they’d wait for me. Half-dressed and dazzling, one splendidly muscular body would tug my attention his way before another stepped forward and claimed my focus as his. It’d be like the other night, but better.

It would be my hands that spread themselves over their shoulders, that traced the shapes of taut biceps and cobblestone stomachs, even following the tracery of scars on Silas’ body. I’d store every touch away in my mind, a pleasure to be brought out over and over and re-experienced. Because this time I’d be in control of deciding who did the touching, not the drug.

But perhaps I would find other men… a man, I corrected myself abruptly. A good and kind man who’d make a good husband. We’d have beautiful children, and I’d work hard to make his house a home before… I shook my head and smiled back at the mirror. I could dream of a future once I’d made sure I was safe. And right now, that entailed doing something terrible.

Again.

I felt the eyes of many men upon me as I strode downstairs, but I couldn’t fool myself into thinking it was because there was anything special about me. The inn was full of men, many of them tired from working hard, others who wanted to drink away their sorrows and bury themselves in something soft, to try and forget about the day. They watched me and all the other women with hungry eyes, eating the lot of us up in blunt-teethed bites.

But I only saw four of them.

As Creed watched me descend, he went perfectly still, and it was as if the animal in him pushed against his skin to take a better look at me. Roan stopped mid-chuckle when he saw me, and his smile faltered, then turned into something else altogether as his amber eyes darkened over the rim of his mug. And Silas? His eyes sparkled with an unholy light, his lips twisting into a vicious smile, perhaps because he caught the shift in Arik’s gaze.

Those blue eyes could look like the sky, or a storm, but right now they were pure blue fire. He rose to his feet without thought, flushing when he caught himself at it. But when he saw others do the same, his hand went to his sword, and his jaw tightened.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I hadn’t walked to their table; instead, I’d gone straight to the bar. Men had looked up when I pressed my body against it, some blinking hard, then widening their eyes when they saw me as they fought past the haze of the drink to take me in. When one slipped from his stool to approach me, Arik jammed his body in the gap between them and me and demanded an answer.

“Getting you all a drink,” I said, then turned to the innkeeper. “Five stouts, if you please. I admit, I was intrigued by the taste and would like my own.”

I pulled a gold coin out, hoping it covered the cost, but Arik snatched it from the bar, pocketing it.

“That’s enough to buy a whole barrel of stout,” he hissed in frustration, jerking out some copper coins from his money pouch and slapping them down on the bar.

The innkeeper didn’t look especially pleased, but he poured the beer for the five of us without comment, setting each one on the bar. My fingers flexed, then I glanced across the floor to see how the serving girls were carrying them, and I spied the flat wooden trays. The innkeeper pushed one my way and I smiled prettily in response. Arik went to snatch two of the tankards, but I batted his hand away.

“You’ll spill the lot on the floor,” he said, his brows drawing down deeper. “And then the lasses here will have to clean up the mess the princess makes.”

I let out an unladylike snort. He could make a lot of assertions about me, but this was something that I knew how to do.

“If I do, I promise to clean up every drop—”

“Do you even know how?” he asked.

“…with my tongue.” It seemed as though the whole room went quiet in order to listen to my bet. “I’ll get on my hands and knees and lap the beer from the floorboards like a dog.”

“I’d like to see that,” a man said, deliberately tipping a little of his beer on the floor.

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