Page 6 of The Crownless Prince

After they pried off the top hinge, they took turns digging out the nails and breaking apart the cracked and rotting horizontal planks. By evening the next day, they’d broken off the interior planks to reveal the outer, vertical layer of planks. These, unfortunately, proved difficult to separate from the plaster.

No one arrived to release them.

No one came with supplies.

Marcus threw himself into the demolition to avoid thinking about what they might face when they finally escaped.

Midmorning on the third day after the tower had quaked, they broke through the wood to the plaster itself. By midafternoon, frigidair whistled through a jagged hole.

When night fell, the opening in the door was almost big enough for them to fit through. Since leaving after dark in the freezing cold would be insane, and they were both exhausted anyway, they cooked some mushy root vegetables and went to sleep.

The following morning, Marcus’s nervous excitement drove him to the door at dawn. By the time he’d knocked down sufficient plaster and wood to allow a comfortable exit, sweat pasted his tunic to his back despite the cold air. He dropped the battered training sword and leaned against the stone wall, closing his eyes as the wind whistled into the foyer.

“You’re going to catch cold standing in that wind all wet,” Edwin’s disapproving voice said behind him.

Marcus snorted and shoved off the wall. “All right; I’ll go change so you don’t worry yourself to an early grave.”

Edwin held out a couple pieces of stale, hard bread and a cup half filled with water. “Eat something first. Or I’ll follow you around scowling.”

“It’s like having a particularly anxious nursemaid.” But he forced himself to eat the barely edible food and wash it down with the water.

“That’s the last of the food,” Edwin murmured. “And the water.”

Marcus froze. “Did you—”

“I’m fine.”

“Ed—”

“We’ll get something in town.” He motioned at the door. “I’ll be fine.”

“I take it back. You’re not a nursemaid. More like an insufferably self-sacrificial older brother.” Marcus didn’t have any experience with that kind of elder brother, but he’d read stories that claimed they existed. “Besides, as your liege, I am duty-bound to take care of my subjects, so I should have—”

“This is why I made you eat before I said anything.” Edwin rolled his eyes. “You choose the most convenient times to change your mind about whether I’m your servant or your friend, and I don’t like it when you give me orders that directly counter the solemn vows I made on the stars and Miraveld and my life to protect you.”

The sacred oath of Aedyllan was part of a bodyguard’s vows, and at the time, Marcus had been thrilled to have his manservant and friend who had been by his side since they were both children double as his bodyguard. It had seemed much better than having some stranger following him around. Unfortunately, Edwin took those duties very seriously, and while Marcus appreciated his loyalty, it often made him feel awkward.

Marcus turned to the doorway. On the other side, dead brown grass stretched down the hill to the valley. The pines around the rim of the valley rose to meet the pale blue sky, and in the distance, a deer disappeared into the trees. An empty, unkempt road ran through the center of the valley and up to the tower. That road led to Alimer Castle, but first it passed through the closest town.

“I don’t have a good plan for after we leave,” Marcus admitted. “We don’t have any coin, and if my father is…well, we might not have access to any money.”

“No, but I’m sure we have some things we could trade for supplies, and we’re both able-bodied young men who can exchange labor for food or shelter until we find a more permanent position.”

Marcus kept staring out the door, his limbs heavy. Now that their escape was at hand, terror rooted his feet in place. What would they find? The aftermath of a war? Or that his father had forgotten him? Or perhaps that his father had grown tired of paying for his continued survival and had allowed him to escape merely to stop sending supplies?

Above all of those worries, another loomed.

What about Adriana?

Was she all right—healthy and happy and safe? Would she want to see him? Or would she have…moved on? He had clung to hope of escape for so long, had treasured the possibility of one day seeing Adriana again, of even wedding her. They had made each other promises. Still, years had passed. He’d never let the flame he carried for her flicker, but he’d had no other options. She would have had young men vying for her attention. She might not even know what had happened to him.

If he found her again only to discover she no longer cared for him, it might break him.

No, Adriana wasn’t a fickle girl. Right? But then, he’d left first, even if he hadn’t meant to. She had no proof he still loved her. Four years was enough time for someone else to have swept her off her feet. Marcus and Edwin might have been imprisoned for nothing.

Edwin cleared his throat. “Whatever happens, whatever we face outthere, I have your back. You know that, right?”

His friend’s words chased a little of the cold away from his heart. “Thank you.” He turned toward the door, trying to suppress his worries, but his tongue developed a mind of its own. “Do you think she’s forgotten me?” he burst out.

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