Page 40 of Settle Down, Princess

Chapter 23

As I washed my leg with a bar of lemon-scented soap, I decided that I needed to distract my guards to get them to let their defences down. After he’d ushered me into the bathroom, and I’d made clear what I was after, Rion the bathing attendant proving to be quite the resource.

“You’re to be sold as a slave?” he’d asked, eyes wide.

I’d fought the urge to roll my eyes when his reaction told me that the boy was little other than a country bumpkin.

“In a way,” I’d said, smiling up at him. “I’ve been promised in marriage to a powerful man.”

He’d frowned.

“But isn’t that the way of all highborn lasses?”

“To a man who’s killed the last six of his wives?” I’d let my eyes widen, then summoned tears to well up.

“Like the king?”

There’d been fear in his voice, making me wonder just how widespread the knowledge of the king’s predilections was.

“Just like the king,” I’d said, making my voice wobble as I placed a hand on his arm. It was well muscled, but the arm of a boy still growing, not yet a man. I couldn’t rely on him to be my saviour, but he could connect me with those that could. “It’s why I need your help, Rion.” Fishing a coin out of my pocket, I’d pressed it into his hand. “I need to find men—good men—who’ll help me get free of my captors. For a fee, of course.”

“A fee…”

Rion’s manner had transformed, and his eyes had lit up as he looked at the coin before putting it between his lips and biting down on it. I’d blinked in confusion, then realised it was to test if the gold was soft. As soon as its quality was ascertained, it disappeared into his pocket, and his gaze sharpened.

“So you need men.” He’d glanced at the door. “Big ones and a lot of them, by the look of the fellas you walked in the door with. One of them’s a wolf shifter?”

“Yes, but—”

He’d shaken his head.

“That complicates shit. Need to befuddle the bastards if you’re to get away. How long do we have?”

“Tonight?” I’d smiled weakly.

“Then their drinks will need to be drugged. Something to relax ‘em, not alert them to the fact they’ve been dosed.”

“Roseblood?” I’d asked.

He’d shrugged, “We’d need a barrowload of the stuff.” He looked me up and down. “You’re not from Khean, are you?”

“No, Stormare.”

“The little dinky place between the three kingdoms?” He’d nodded slowly as he thought about that. “Ah, so you haven’t been taking that stuff your whole life. It stiffens a man’s wick.” His eyes had darted over to meet mine. “Excuse my language.”

“You’re excused, Rion.”

I’d given his arm a squeeze and he’d looked down at my hand for a moment before continuing.

“Roseblood is as common as muck here, you see. It doesn’t send a man’s head spinning, not after the first few times.”

“What about an extremely potent variety?” I’d held out my hand and clicked the latch on my ring, opening the jewelled setting to reveal the deep red power. He’d bent and taken an experimental sniff, nodded, then scooped the very-long fingernail on his little finger into the powder, collecting up a few grains before sniffing it up his nose.

“Phoarr…” I’d clicked the ring closed again, then watched him blink and waver on his feet as a sloppy smile spread across his face. “That shit kicks like a mule.” It seemed to take a few long breaths for him to regain control of himself. “Where the hell did you get that from?”

“My mother. Now, Master Rion—”

“You give those fellas some of that in their drinks… Stout, not wine.” He’d nodded to himself. “The taste will be too apparent in wine. They’ll be wobbling in their boots, then chasing after the maids like a starving dog would a rabbit.”

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