Page 6 of If The Crown Fits
I didn’t want to die, of course. But I had made the mistake of getting caught. This was what happened when I got caught.
“Tell me.” He stepped closer and grabbed my chin with his slender fingers. They were just as cold as I’d expected. He leaned over me slightly and pulled my mask down though my face was covered in dirt and grime and somewhat unrecognisable. Not that it mattered much now. He lowered his voice before asking, “Was it worth it?”
There was a mocking tone in his voice, a devilish grin on his face, and before I knew what I was doing, my saliva had left my mouth and rested on the smooth skin of his cheek. You could practically hear the intake of every breath in the room, and it was only after my action that I realised what I’d done.
I had spat in the face of the Crown Prince of Everness.
My eyes widened in surprise. I was definitely going to die now. Prince Lance must have seen the unmistakable look of regret written over my face, because his smile was sinister as he wiped his cheek with that beautiful tunic. He stood back.
“You ought to beg for my mercy and instead you insult me further?”
His voice rang through the throne room. My heart was beating in my throat like a lump, or even worse, like the noose that would be around my neck. He stepped forwards and grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me up. “I should have you killed right here and now. Death is, after all, a mercy to someone like you.”
Someone like me? A lowlife thief.
He pushed me back into the hands of the guards. “Well, then?” His facial expression did not match the anger in his voice. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. It was as if every muscle in my body had gone completely stiff. Every person in the room awaited his next words like a hungry lion waiting for its meagre prey. These monsters were actually hoping that it would be my death sentence. They always loved a good show.
“Have it your way, then. I sentence you to spend the remaining years of your hollow life rotting away in a prison cell.” He motioned to the guards. “Take her away.”
Immediately the crowd started murmuring. I had committed treason — we had established that. So, why on earth would he give me a prison sentence? Did he honestly expect me to believe he was a monarch of mercy, especially after what happened with the young guard?
Did he plan on being the charming sort that would woo the people with his many words, and yet have few actions to accommodate them? As far as my knowledge went, he’d had legislative power alongside his father for more than a few yearsand he had done nothing to make any of his subjects’ lives any better. The crowd continued their low chatter and I clenched a fist as the guards pulled me out of the room.
It didn’t make sense. Even he must have known that the people would have preferred a public execution to just another prisoner. An example of what would happen to anyone who tried to wrong the royal family. If he wanted to win their approval, then he would have done just that. So why was it more important to show mercy instead of creating fear? Fear was power after all, was it not?
I was dragged once again, away from the aristocracy and royalty and into the caverns of the palace where few dared to enter and even fewer ever came out alive. We’d heard stories about prisoners at the palace. When I was younger, I used to think they were only tales meant to scare children from getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do. But walking down the dark stone hallways, I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
The cries from tortured men could be heard from afar and I tried not to gulp.I will not be afraid, I repeated in my head, though it did little to ease my angst. I would get out soon. My only concern was that soon wouldn’t be soon enough.
I was tossed into an empty cell before a key turned and the guard left me to my solitude. There was a mouse in the corner of the cell that swiftly scurried away upon my arrival.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” I muttered.
I scooted back until I could lean my head against the wall, knowing that by tomorrow morning my whole body would ache from sleeping on a stone floor. I could smell the breeze coming in through the barred window and I imagined what it would be like, had I been near the border now, instead of in a cold, musty prison cell.
Dinner was not a three-course meal... as was to be expected. I could only glare at the cold mush in the bowl before moving it away.
I could only hope that things were better back home. While rumour often got out of hand with my reputation as the Masked Bandit, I was good at thieving, and over the years it had become a responsibility of mine to ensure that my family stayed alive.
I thought about Uncle Arthur and how he was probably sitting at his table, with his hands in his hair, like he’d been doing most days for the past few months. And Ray. My childhood friend who taught me how to pick pockets. What would he say if he knew the trouble I’d got myself into? He’d probably just got back from hunting. Or maybe he was sitting in a tavern somewhere, listening to drunkards overshare valuable information. Ray had a special talent for spotting the perfect target when it came to thieving. And none of them knew I was in a prison cell. They were still expecting me to be home in a few days. And I had left them, had left my responsibility to take care of all of them. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much. I had decided to run away, and look where it had got me.
There was a sound echoing through the prison passageways. Another scream. I cringed.
I had eyed everything on my way to the cell — the exits, the guards, the keys. Escaping would not be easy, but certainly not impossible.
It grew dark swiftly and I lay down on the cold tiles to attempt sleep, my cloak covering me, in the corner of the cell.
There wasn’t anything better to do... for now.
* * *
The sound of metal clanging woke me up with a start. I heard the cell door open, but it was dark and my head was clouded with sleep. Confused at my location and how long my slumberhad lasted, I didn’t have time to react before two pairs of strong hands wrapped around my upper arms and I was being pulled out of the cell.
“Hey!” I don’t exactly know why I shouted or tried to yank free as they chained my wrists. I knew it was a hopeless effort. But I panicked, thinking Prince Lance had only pretended that he was sentencing me to prison and that I was being dragged out to be privately executed.
“Where are you taking me?”
