Stolen (Royally Hot 1)

Agony or no, the thought of his hands on me sent my blood pumping in a fury. I shoved him away from me.

“I belong to only one man,” I snarled. “And he will kill you, mark my words. Unless I do it first…”

He seized me by the hair, and I shrieked with pain and anger. Then he pushed me down on the table and tried to pull my skirt up while also shoving down his britches. But I had not spent the last eighteen years doing needlepoint while wearing too-small corsets; I was strong and I knew it.

And so, with every ounce of strength I had, I fought him. I kicked him and bit him and dug my fingers into his eyes. If he was going to fuck me, it would be my dead body he took, because I was done being scared.

Everything and anything I could do to defend myself, I did. We battled across the room and I finally got the upper hand, shoving his head through one of the wooden lattice screens.

The window was narrow and the broken lattice was sharp and uncomfortable around his head, but I knew it wouldn’t hold him for long.

And so, without one more instant of hesitation, I grabbed his dagger from the sheath on his calf and drove it sideways into his neck, screaming this time not in fear, but in victory. A sickening gurgle was his last living sound as I threw my hair back, stood straight and gave him a swift kick in his ass.

Bors

I hustled up the wide, cobblestone street that led to the front of the castle, steeling myself for any trouble that might come my way. Above me, I heard a commotion and looked up, drawing my knife.

I was not prepared for what happened next. A man’s head protruded from a window above, sunlight showing his angry grimace.

He hollered and tried to work himself free from the narrow opening but before he got the chance, he let out a scream, then his head dropped and I knew he was dead.

Behind his scream, as loud as it was, there was a roar. The noise of someone in the heat of battle, spilling blood to save their own. And I would have known that voice anywhere.

Sara.

“Stay where you are,” I yelled up, knowing it was her in that tower without seeing proof. “I’m coming!”

“Bors!” She yelled in reply. “Help me!”

“I’m coming. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There was a pause, then a crash, and her voice came from further away. “No!” Her voice tore through me like a knife. “Hurry, Bors! Someone’s at the door!”

I broke into a run, taking a deserted alleyway to avoid the well-guarded front entrance of the castle. If there was treachery within the walls, whoever was holding Sara might also have loyal guards at the front entrance. Going that way would be too much of a risk.

Every castle had dozens of hidden side entrances for non-nobility to use—some small, for washerwomen and the like, and others much larger, for ox-carts that carried food and supplies.

In war those entrances would be barricaded and guarded, but in peacetime, like now, some at least would be unattended. I just hoped that whatever betrayal had put Sara in danger was limited enough to make entrance to the castle still possible.

I was right. I found a small wooden door near a row of empty milk pails. After a couple of thrusts of my shoulder, the wood splintered with a crack and I muscled my way through.

Ascending a narrow, dark staircase, I burst into a stone hallway, lit with rows of torches left and right. Guards were posted on both sides, and they came at me with blades bared and crossbows drawn.

“The stolen princess,” I panted, my fingers tightening around my knife. Right now, my hope was they were loyal to the king. “She is in danger. She was brought here by the Queen’s guard. I believe she is in danger. I have to help her.”

The guard nearest me flipped up his armor faceplate, and I recognized his face at once. Seamus. A grizzled, war-beaten old warrior of clan Mackay that I’d fought with at the Firth. That was years ago, but his actions and the expression on his face told me he recognized me too.

Beside him, the two other guards held back, deferring to Seamus.

“Bors? What the fucking hell are you doing here? And what’s this about the stolen princess? Have you once and for all lost your mind?”

“No, but there’s no time to explain everything. She’s upstairs, Seamus. If you’re still loyal to King Rowan, please help me. Or, I’ll kill you.”

He nodded without another word, and we took off for a staircase nearby. The four of us rampaged our way through the hallways, flinging open doors as we approached where I thought I’d seen her. Room after room showed us nothing, until finally I heard her scream once more, this time from behind a double-thick door that didn’t budge when I rammed it.