Page 20 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a grin.
“Can I at least have some water and a bucket to piss in? I may dehydrate before you come back just so you know—” she shouted as he left his bedroom.
“Your Highness,” Micah greeted in the hallway. The shifter had been the one to harm Sterling the day of her grandmother’s death, scar her in ways that would last forever. After, Winter had punished him for it by banning him from shifting for three months. “Sounds like the bitch is settling in well.”
Winter grunted as he navigated the halls. “She’s trying her damnedest to play nice.”
“You should kill her and be done with it.”
Where was the entertainment in that?
“Red Riding Hood? No, she deserves to die as a spectacle.” He turned toward the cellar steps where the prison was located. “Wait here.”
The wooden stairs creaked as he descended into the torch-lit room. It smelled musty, and the sound of water dripping into a puddle echoed through the room. Bars lined either side of the stone cellar, empty now that the hangings had taken place. All except one. A guard stood stoically near the door to the only inhabited cage. Winter studied the farthest cell where the youngboy was huddled into the back corner, his face buried in his knees.
“Leave,” Winter snapped at the guard standing at the entrance.
The man left without a word, his heavy footsteps reverberating in the dank cellar. It wasn’t until Winter heard the door open and close at the top of the steps that he unbolted the cell. He slipped inside and hovered over Cyan. The boy was a skinny thing, though kempt and appeared healthy enough. There was almost no resemblance to Sterling that he could see besides their green eyes. His clothing was the right size, no holes to be seen, and his dark hair was trimmed neatly. There was no doubt his sister cared for him. Most of the orphan human children he’d seen around the village were snot-nosed and covered in a layer of grime.
When he first met Sterling in the woods years ago, she’d mentioned that they’d lost their mother. Besides the prince finding her smart mouth enticing, they’d had the death of a parent in common. That was why he told her to flee. If he’d known she’d been the granddaughter of his greatest enemy, things would’ve been vastly different. He would’ve used her to taunt the old woman, but in the end, he would’ve still foolishly let her go.
But not this time.
“Boy,” he said in the kindest voice he could muster. Frightening Cyan wouldn’t get him to open up. He’d already scared him enough at the butcher shop and then thrown him in the cell without a word. The young human had even carried a dagger on him that he hadn’t attempted to use on Winter. It was taken, of course.
“My name is Cyan,” he mumbled into his lap, his gaze remaining hidden.
The prince was well aware of his name—he simply chose not to use it. He was a human child with the blood of a wolf killer running through his veins. A killer who’d murdered Winter’s own mother. “Look at me.”
Cyan tensed, hugging his legs to his chest, and peeked up. Red rimmed his swollen eyes.
“Do you know who I am?”
His voice wavered as he spoke, “The prince.”
Winter nodded once. “And do you know why you’re here?”
“Because…” His brows pinched in thought. “Because you didn’t believe my sister when she called you gracious today?”
Winter stared at him, keeping his expression neutral, and tried to determine if he actually thought that. The child lived with Red Riding Hood, but he was still young enough that he might be oblivious to her antics. Perhaps she wanted to keep him unaware for his own protection as well as hers. Children tended to tell more than they should.
“Is that the only reason you should be here?” he prodded.
Cyan lifted his head slightly to wipe his tear-filled eyes on his sleeve. “Because you fought with Nareth, maybe?”
“Your friend threw salt in my face,” he reasoned. And it fucking stung. The bastard deserved every swing Winter had thrown at him and more.
“I’m sorry,” he sniffled.
“Why? You didn’t do it. Don’t take responsibility for other’s actions.” Winter leaned against the stone wall and glowered down at him. Children were malleable … if he wasniceenough to the welp, he might come around to like Winter. He could imagine how much it would infuriate Sterling to know that her brother didn’t hate their prince. “Your grandmother, for example. She hunted my kind. Killed my mother.”
“M—my grandmother?”
“Mmm,” he affirmed. He’d been tucked away in a basket when she was murdered, so Winter hadn’t expected him to know anything that Sterling hadn’t told him. “She led a group of hunters before we killed her.” Most of the hunters she’d worked with had been slaughtered over the years, and now that the ones who’d attacked his father were dead, not many were left. Even Red Riding Hood wouldn’t be alive much longer.
A whimper left his lips. “Sterling said Grandmother lived peacefully in the forest. She gave my sister a bow once, and Sterling uses it to hunt deer and rabbits so we can sell them.”
“The same bow that killed the deer, killedmywolves.” When Cyan didn’t give a response, the prince nudged his leg with the toe of his boot. “Have your sister’s arrows killed anything other than deer?”
