Page 6 of Settle Down, Princess

Warmth filled Arik’s eyes and he nodded at me. As he turned toward the inn, he drew me to him with one hand and tucked me into his side before he wrapped his other arm around my shoulders, pressing me more firmly against him in a protective and blatantly possessive action. An action that made my heart swell in my chest as conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm me.

Tears filled my eyes although I did not allow them to fall. Arik’s almost courtly gesture had, unwittingly, made my already overwrought mind snag on the realisation that all I’d wanted in a marriage was the simple pleasure of being seen, cared for and cherished for who I was. That was what I’d expected I would find with whoever my father deemed worthy of marrying me. I’d been prepared for my husband to be older, stouter, or to snore in his sleep. Plenty of the married noblewomen at court had told me that while their husbands did one or all of those things, they were also loving spouses. The reason I’d been so excited about that wedding dress was not simply that it was a stunning creation, but because wearing it acknowledged that I would be leaving my father’s protection, to be given to a worthy man who would care for me.

But the King of Khean was no worthy man.

If today had shown me anything, it was that my father valued me so little that he had willingly signed my death warrant. And then he’d commemorated the occasion with a white dress to signify my innocence, my purity, my naiveté. I’d been the perfect victim, one who he’d trained to docilely accept her fate. I had trusted him, thought I was in safe hands, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. So why not put myself into the hands of a stranger? Arik couldn’t treat me any worse than Father had and, anyway, this was a transaction. I’d ensure Arik was well paid for his troubles and then I’d be on my way.

“Come with me, then, if you’re determined,” he said, squeezing my shoulder, and I answered him the only way I could. My arm went around his waist, pressing myself more firmly to him. I’d played the role of diligent daughter most of my life, I could be Arik’s doxy for a few hours if that’s what it took.

And after?

I’d do the one thing women were rarely able to. I’d determine my own fate, find my own way in this world, and discover who the hell I was under all of these layers of expectations, rules and, regulations.

“Lead the way, Master Arik,” I said, giving his body a squeeze.

Chapter 5

Gods…

I nearly hissed the word aloud as we walked into the place. It was so dark, so dank, that I wasn’t at all surprised when the soles of my slippers stuck to the floor, each step requiring extra effort. While men around the tavern shouted, guffawed, or drank deep from their tankards, Arik led me straight to the bar.

“Arik!” the barman said roguishly, with one eye gleaming and the other covered with a leather patch. “And who’s this, then?” He leered at me in a way that had me shrinking against Arik. “That’s a nice bit of pretty you’ve got there. Fresh, too, unlike these tarts.”

“That’s enough out of you, ya old prick,” said a woman who was wiping down the bar top, and I couldn’t help but stare at how her blouse was cut so low you could see the edges of her nipples. She flicked the man with the dirty tea towel.

“I’ve got some things you could do for me for a couple of coppers,” the barman said to me, drawing my attention back to him in time to see a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

I drew in a sharp breath of outrage as I realised what he meant. I knew that some poor women fell so far in life they were forced to make their money on their backs, and he thought—

“Keep your fucking eyes to yourself. She’s mine.”

I glanced up at Arik, studying the stern expression as his deep voice washed over me. There was something animalistic about his snarl, something… possessive. I felt a rush of an unwelcome sentiment as a sudden desire for more of that rose within me, but I knew I had to stifle the emotion. So I feigned shyness, turning into him and pressing my face to his chest, reassured by his clean scent filling my lungs.

To be claimed was what I’d dreamed of over and over for all of these years, and when I’d donned the dress such a short time ago, I’d— I cut off the thought, then moved my hand experimentally. I felt the need to convince the two people behind the bar that I was indeed Arik’s doxy and his alone, in order to ensure that no one else made any kind of offer to me, so I unbuttoned one of his shirt buttons and slid my hand in. His stomach muscles, hard as iron, jumped at my touch, then shifted as the pace of his breathing started to increase. When I looked back to our audience, the barman nodded and the serving woman beside him looked on with interest.

“So what’re you drinking then?” the barman asked bluntly.

“Beer for me and…?” Arik looked down at me, raising one perfectly formed eyebrow in query.

“For me, as well,” I said.

I had no idea what beer tasted like, but having been told over and over that it was what the common people drank, I wanted to try it.

“With a roseblood chaser?” This time, the barman leered at us both. “That’ll stiffen your wick and make your lady slicker than an oyster.”

Roseblood was a red powder created from grinding the dried sap of a specific species of tree only found in one of the kingdoms far to the west of Stormare. I knew what it was because of the ornate box that my father kept his own roseblood supply in— whenever it was put on the dining table, it was time for the unmarried ladies to leave the room. We divined that from the familiar clunk of the wooden box against the tabletop followed by the squeeze of our mothers’ hands on our arms. It didn’t matter if we’d finished our meal or not. There was no concession that eating was a process made so much more difficult by the presence of the veil—we were expected to withdraw and eat in our chambers, or not at all, but we were never allowed to remain in the room when roseblood was consumed.

“Perhaps later—” Arik started to say.

I found I simply couldn’t bear that: another man saying no to an experience on my behalf, without consulting me. I didn’t know what roseblood did and I was sure imbibing it in a place like this was not wise, but I wanted to be asked what I thought on the matter. And so I pushed myself forward.

“Will this cover the drinks?” I asked, plucking one of the smaller pearls from my pocket and offering it to the barman. “With the roseblood, of course.”

“Well, then—” The man started to puff himself up, but the woman beside him swooped in, taking the pearl and looking it over for imperfections.

“That’ll cover your tab for the night, and a meal as well.” She nudged the barman. “Serve the two of them their drinks, sharpish-like.”

The barman grumbled as he poured the beer into ceramic tankards, then sprinkled a teaspoon of the blood-red powder over the foam on each before shoving them towards us.

---