Page 19 of The Crownless Prince

“Seems a mighty rush is all I’m saying,” one of the men said. “He’s not been king for even a month yet. I’d think he’d be more worried about that than weddings.”

“No, see, I think that’s why,” another man said, his tone insistent. “How much men and wealth do you reckon King Mortimer lost suppressing the other two princes?”

“Probably less than he gained by becoming king,” snorted the third.

“But think about it. I hear the man’s rich—”

“How does that help the king? He should marry off his son for a good dowry if he needs to refill his treasury, not his daughter.”

Marcus choked on his ale, spewing some across the table. Edwin leaned back with a disgusted expression. The barmaid approached their table, their supper in hand, and eyed the droplets sprayed across the tabletop with distaste as she set down their servings of steak and ale pie. But he was too focused on the conversation at the table behind him to care about Edwin’s or the barmaid’s judgment.

“Sure, but do you think it works the same when you’re marrying the king’s only daughter?” The speaker scoffed. “This lord is probably paying a bride price to the king for the honor of marrying the princess.”

Edwin froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, and their eyes met.So he’d heard the same thing. Marcus wished he hadn’t. He could have imagined he’d misheard or misunderstood.

“Personally, I don’t care what the reason is,” one of the speakers declared. “Once she’s wed, it’s unlikely to affect us common folk. But the wedding itself will mean a feast for all the area surrounding the castle, if His Majesty follows tradition. I don’t worry myself with things above my place, like who or why Princess Adriana is marrying. But I’ll never say no to free food.”

“Hear, hear!” Laughing and the clacking together of tankards followed.

Despite the crackling fire, Marcus had gone cold. A single tear raced down his nose and splashed into his ale.

“Marcus…”

He shook his head. Whatever condolences or wisdom Edwin might offer, he wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

What had he expected? That after four years of separation and after he was reduced to a pauper—and likely presumed dead—Adriana wouldn’t move on? That she’d remain single for the rest of her days? He should be wishing her happiness as well as security in her marriage to someone far more suitable than him, but all he could feel was the crushing weight of heartbreak.

Chapter 8

There had been days in the tower when Marcus didn’t want to rise in the morning. Why should he leave his comfortable bed to face another day of monotony with little to do and nowhere to go but up and down the same spiral staircase? Eventually, his stomach, the call of nature, Edwin knocking on his door, or the thought of Adriana had gotten him out of bed. After all, how could he lie there and waste away when he had promised her that one day, he would marry her?

How he hated the pain in his heart and the swell of unrighteous fury toward this nameless lord that the woman he loved more than life itself was going to marry.

The castle wasn’t far. He could go to her, sneak in like he had before, and ask if she really wanted this marriage. She’d promised never to give up on him…

“Marcus.”

He stared at the candlelight flickering on the wall and ignored Edwin.

“I know you’re awake. It’s getting late. We paid for breakfast, so we should get it.” When Marcus still didn’t move, Edwin sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not the news you wanted, and you’re hurting. But you shouldn’t give up.”

“On her?” Marcus asked without lifting his head from the thin excuse of a pillow.

“On living.” The floorboards creaked softly as Edwin shifted, then he sat on the edge of the bed. “She’s marrying a wealthy lord. I think… I think you should give up on her. She’s clearly given up on you.”

Tears threatened again, so he squeezed his eyes shut. After a couple of steadying breaths, he opened his eyes and said, “But what if she would choose me if she knew I’m alive? Or what if it’s an arranged marriage she doesn’t want, just like I didn’t want mine? Shouldn’t I fight for her and not…” He gulped. “Not be a coward? Again?”

After a moment, Edwin spoke quietly. “It’s not cowardice to be wise. Haven’t you said before Mortimer seems to truly love his children?”

“Yes.” He’d been jealous of Adriana’s relationship with her father more than once.

“Do you really think her father would force her into a marriage she doesn’t want?”

Marcus gripped his blanket with clenched fists. His own father may have tried to force him into a marriage and imprisoned him when he refused, but Mortimer wasn’t Arlius. Adriana must have accepted this marriage, or it wouldn’t be happening. At worst, that meant she no longer loved him. At best, it meant she’d made peace with his death, and letting her know he was alive might distress her.

“And what’s the alternative?” Edwin asked. “You run away together? You both always talked about peace. If her father did arrange this marriage, it must be for the good of the kingdom. Meanwhile, I’msorry, Marcus, but the son of Mortimer’s vanquished rival stealing away his daughter days before her wedding is unlikely to benefit Aedyllan’s peace and prosperity. If he sent an assassin after you before you did anything, he’ll send an army after you for disappearing with his daughter. Anyone who doesn’t support him might think you’re making a bid for the throne, and you’ll find yourself in the middle of a war. And you won’t even have anywhere to take her.”

Marcus sat up and rested his forearms on his knees but avoided looking at Edwin. He certainly didn’t want to start another war. His heart screamed that Edwin was wrong, but at the same time, what he said made sense.

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