Page 8 of If The Crown Fits
I settled back comfortably as if I owned the room and all its luxurious décor. Even though my heartbeat pulsed in my ears, I couldn’t allow him to sense my fear. “I see,” I said, as if thinking it over. “And why is that of importance?”
“I like to be on a first-name basis with everyone who steals from me,” he replied, sounding almost bored. I once again found myself wishing he was drunk. Maybe he would be less of a prick.
He approached me slowly.
“I can’t imagine you would care about the identity of a pathetic little pickpocket.”
He came across as the kind of person who’d feel insulted if he had to breathe the same air as someone who didn’t have a title.
“Pickpockets don’t steal from the royal family.”
I stood and grabbed him by the collar with my left hand and pointed the knife at his throat with my right. His eyes went wide in momentary surprise.
Yes, little rich prince.I may never be your equal. But you should be afraid of me.
“You don’t want to do that.” Lance didn’t sound quite as desperate or afraid as I would have liked, but at least there was more uncertainty in his voice than before. “I have half a dozen guards waiting outside who’d be more than happy to escort you to your death.”
“Isn’t that why I’m here? So you can kill me yourself?” I spat out.
Lance gulped, the apple of his throat bobbing under the knife. “I have no intention of killing you.”
It was my turn to be surprised. “You don’t?”
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” Maybe he did have a point. But that didn’t mean I was going to trust him.
“Then why am I here?” I remained unmoved, with one hand clutching his collar and the other holding the knife.
Lance tilted his head towards the table. “Maybe you’d like to put the knife down first.” I wouldn’t like to, but I didn’t want to risk him calling his guards.
“Fine.” I jammed the knife into the wooden table.
“What is it with you peasants always resorting to violence?” He rubbed his throat but I knew for a fact I’d caused no damage to his skin.
“Violence is an unfortunate consequence,” I answered. “Sometimes we must do unpleasant things to stay alive.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that we can agree on,” Lance admitted.
I wasn’t sure what he meant. What did he know about surviving? “You may call me Lara.” He looked almost disappointed for a moment and I suspected my name was neither as grand nor as sinister as he’d hoped it would be. But it was gone as quickly as it came. To my displeasure, he pressed his lips into some resemblance of a smile before saying, “Lance. My name is Lance.”
“I know that,” I replied. Obviously.
“An introduction is still considered polite manners from a prince.”
“You threw me into a prison cell — I think we are way past polite manners.” Never mind the knife I’d just held to his throat.
“You stole my family’s jewellery. Did you expect me to invite you in for tea?”
My jaw clenched in dissatisfaction. “Why am I here?”
“I’m afraid I’m not quite finished withmyquestions, yet,” he said. What kind of interrogation was this?
“So, tell me why you tried to steal that necklace?”
I looked around the room and spotted the family portraits that decorated the walls. They were beautiful, but clearly done a long time ago as the living successors were still young children. One of them was a painting of King Magnus and his first wife, Queen Estella, holding a baby boy with black hair that could only be Lance. The next one had the Queen with two baby girls in her arms. Princess Eloisa and her stillborn sister. The story goes that Queen Estella died after giving birth to the stillborn sister. I assumed the painting was an artistic impression, something the King wished could have been. The kingdom mourned for months, but that was before my time, so I have no memory of it. And the last one was a painting of the King, Lance a little older, and Queen Rivana. Rumour had it that King Magnus married her on a whim to save some alliance. The marriage didn’t last very long before it got annulled.
“I like the paintings,” I said, just to annoy him.
“Why did you try and steal that necklace, Lara?” His tone was firmer this time, dressed with a hint of annoyance.
