Page 71 of The Stolen Princess
She hadn’t spoken to Drake since their conversation about Princess Seran earlier that morning at breakfast. His words had stuck with her the rest of the day, playing over and over inside her head.
When Drake had described the man who had killed Princess Seran, Myka’s heart had plummeted to the floor. It had to be a coincidence. Surely, there was more than one man who had white and black hair. Drake couldn’t be talking about her father’s man. What was his name? Jarvis? She’d only ever thought of him as Skunkman.
Myka had racked her brain all afternoon. When was the last time she had seen Skunkman? It had to have been only a few months ago.
No, she knew the truth.
It had been over a year since she’d seen Jarvis.
In fact, the last time he had visited her father, she had heard them discussing what route he would take to Albion for the wedding of Prince Ezra and Princess Seran.
If Skunkman was the one who had shot Seran, then her father might have had something to do with it. Myka tried sucking in a deep breath, but it was as if her lungs wouldn’t fill up with air, like the pain of the realization had filled the area instead. Her beating heart throbbed in her throat, sending pulses through the tips of her fingers as she stabbed the chicken with the knife.
Despite what all of the operatives thought, Myka wasn’t stupid. There were clues from her childhood supporting the idea that her father had secrets. Her father hadn’t hiddeneverything.
Her mind slipped to the night her mother had decided to leave—to the moment her mother had told her father. Myka had crouched behind the sofa in the royal sitting room, peeking out to watch them fight. Her father hadn’t tried to stop her mother from leaving. Instead, when her back had turned, his face went smug—devious—almost like his mind said,I’d like to see you try to leave me.
That look had never settled well with Myka.
Then there was the time a few years ago when her father had been drunk, and he was talking in his office with Commander Stoddard. The door had been slightly ajar, enough for Myka to hear their conversation. Her father had gone on and on about how much he hated the other kings in the Council of Essentials and how all of the other kingdoms better watch out because he was coming for them. Coming for them withmissiles.
At the time, it had been an easy conversation to justify away. He had been drunk. He hadn't really meant it. Those were the invented truths she had made up in her mind. But now that she was hearing an entirely different version of her father, those invented truths were becoming less believable.
If she thought logically about the situation—putting aside her love for her father—she could see how Drake might be telling the truth. She had overheard enough conversations in her childhood aboutweaponsthat it was possible her father had a stash somewhere. And if he did, Myka could see why the other kings would band together to try to find them. And now, she had this new information about Jarvis and Princess Seran. Where did all of that fit in?
Myka didn’t know.
All she knew was that it wasa lotto take in, and despite every logical piece of evidence her mind conjured up, she still loved her dad and wanted to believe that he was a good man. Myka had spent years perfecting her fabricated vision of her father. In her mind, he was exactly what she had wanted him to be, a loving father and a good king. The truth had probably always been in front of her, but Myka hadn’t wanted to see it, and she guessed that her father hadn’t wanted her to see it either. There were always excuses why she couldn’t travel with him or why she wasn’t invited to important political events. Perhaps he was sheltering her from who he really was. She didn’t know if she should thank him or hate him. And she didn’t know if she was ready to face the full truth.
There could still be a perfectly good explanation for all of this.
When Kase returned from Tolsten House with her father’s response, Myka would have more answers. She wouldn’t believe the worst about her father before then.
She stabbed the knife into the middle of the chicken, leaning back like it might somehow come to life and bite her. “I’m going to get salmonella poisoning,” she said under her breath to no one but herself. Ultimately, that was the only reason she hadn’t argued with Portlend when he told her to debone the chicken. The job had come with a knife—an actual sharp knife. It was almost too good to be true and too good to pass up. This was her chance to finally get her hands on a weapon that could be the difference between staying at camp and escaping.
Even with all of the new information she’d put together about her father, it didn’t justify her being kidnapped. She still wanted to escape.
She turned her head to the side, glancing at Drake. He was twenty feet away, doing an excessive number of push-ups as if his life depended on them.
Oh, and he was shirtless...again.
Every toned muscle on his chest and arms moved together in the most gloriously annoying way. Her eyes scanned across every ripple until they drifted up to his face. The corner of Drake’s mouth lifted into a conceited smile and his brown eyes glimmered. How long had he been watching her watch him? Whatever the amount of time, it was too long. Her gaze jerked back to the chicken.
Focus, Myka. You are one with the chicken.
She pulled at the thigh, grimacing as the meat separated from the bone. This was what her life had come to, gawking at kidnappers and deboning chickens. It was a new level of low.
After a half-hour of wrestling the dead chicken, Myka was finally done. She turned and looked over her shoulder to Portlend, who made a fire behind her. “I’m done. Can I go wash my hands in the river?” She tucked the knife behind her thigh, hiding it from him. She forced a carefree expression like,hey, I’m not hiding this sharp, pointy thing, and I’m definitely not going to use it to stab Drake Vestry in the back and bust out of here.
Portlend barely acknowledged her. “Fine,” he mumbled.
Myka’s brows bent. He gave his prisoner a knife and then didn’t check to get it back from her? He wasn’t a very smart kidnapper. Drake would never do something like that.
Myka started walking to the river, glancing once at Drake. Now he was doing some sort of pull-up thing on a tree branch, taking his overall attractiveness level up another notch.
Give it a rest, man!
Actually, don’t. She needed him distracted right now.
