Page 7 of The Crownless Prince

“Princess Adriana?” Edwin’s forehead wrinkled. “If she had ever struck me as that capricious, I would have refused to help you sneak out and conceal your true whereabouts and wouldn’t have delivered all those letters. And before you ask yet again, no, I still don’t regret it. It’s not our fault or Adriana’s that your father is—” He abruptly cut off with a cough.

“Insane?” Marcus offered with a dry laugh.

Edwin shrugged. “Anyway. While you change, I’ll finish packing. I’ve gathered clothes for both of us and anything of value, like the silver candlesticks.”

“In what?” As far as he knew, they didn’t have any packs.

“Sacks from our last food delivery. We can wrap blankets around the sacks and tie the blankets on our backs to fashion a sort of pack. Then we’ll have blankets as well.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid we’ll look more like vagabonds than a prince and his servant.”

“Probably for the best, as we don’t know what we’ll face out there. Also, not a prince and servant.”

Edwin just rolled his eyes.

Up in his room, Marcus found a clean change of clothes laid out on his bed. He shook his head, unsure what he’d done to deserve Edwin. He pulled on thick stockings, warm trousers, and a thin linenundertunic, then pulled on a gray outer tunic that came down to his shins. He ran his fingertips over the black embroidery on the collar. Well, he’d look like a formerly wealthy vagabond.

A fur-trimmed cloak, boots, and the only scarf and pair of gloves he had, and he was ready to go. He stilled, staring at the desk holding his letters for Adriana. Should he take them? Some of them he’d reread so many times when he had nothing else to do, he had them memorized.

Dear Adriana,

Remember when we first met? I couldn’t sleep last night, and I kept thinking about how glad I am that I was the one who found you that day. It’s selfish of me to be glad that you’d fallen from your horse onto a corroded riverbank and were clinging to an exposed root for dear life as the current pulled on your dress, selfish to be pleased that no one found you before me, but without that meeting, would we have grown close?

It’s early autumn again, and from my bedroom window, I can see a hint of red maple leaves. I stare at them, and I’m back under that maple tree as the leaves fall around us. You’re wrapped in my cloak in front of the fire I built, and I’ve pulled you close. I don’t know you yet, I don’t even know your name, but I think you’re beautiful, and the chattering of your teeth and the way you shiver in my arms has me frightened—too frightened to leave your side to seek help.

You keep drifting off, but as long as you’re still wet and cold, I won’t let you sleep, afraid you won’t wake back up. So I talk. I rambleon until you stop shaking and your hands are no longer frigid.

Do you remember the first thing you said to me?

“I hope you don’t regret saving me, Prince Marcus.”

I’ve never regretted saving you. Not when you told me who your father was—and I told you I didn’t care; I’d attended his hunt because I dreamed of peace between our houses—not when my father scolded me for befriending you and forbade me from visiting or writing to you, not when I disobeyed him, not when I defied his order that I marry for his military alliance, and not now, trapped in this tower, do I regret saving you or falling in love with you.

I still have six and a half years left of my father’s sentence, Adriana, but as soon as I’m free, I’ll find you. The thought of holding you again gives me strength.

Please wait for me.

With all of my heart,

Marcus

Sighing, he turned away from the desk. Letters would take up precious space in their packs, and what would he do? Give her a stack of old letters and say, “Here, read these,” when he could finally talk to her and hold her again? Assuming she even wanted that still. If things went poorly, end up using them as kindling and watching his dreams burn? Or worse, watch as Adriana herself tossed them into the fire because she no longer loved him? No, better to leave them behind.

Before leaving, he thoroughly smothered the fire. The tower could burn to the ground for all he cared, but if it did, the flames wouldlikely take to the dry grass on the hill, from there to the valley and then the surrounding forests, and he refused to be responsible for burning down his people’s lands. Once that was done, he picked up a candle and left his room at the top of the tower for the last time.

Edwin was waiting for him in the entrance hall. They helped each other tie on their makeshift packs.

“I’ve seen women carry their babes on their backs like this,” Marcus complained.

“Would you prefer to carry it in your arms?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I like this.”

“Then focus on the fact we’re free and maybe that will lift your spirits.” Edwin motioned toward the empty doorway. “Shall we?”

Marcus nodded. “I’m ready to never see this tower again.”

Chapter 3

“Marcus? Hello? Marcus!”

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