The Stolen Princess (Fated Royals 1)

If loyalty to the man that might be my father could get a guard killed, then what fate awaited me? With sudden realization, I knew I had to get out of here; my present and my future depended on it.

“Help me! I am the lost princess!” I screamed as loud as I could, hoping against hope that Bors, or any other sympathetic ear, would hear me. The killing guard clapped his chain mailed hand over my mouth—the chain grated against my teeth and pinched my lips so hard that tears sprung to my eyes.

“Stop your screaming, you little bitch,” he said, and then maneuvered my face down to the dead guard at our feet, “Or else your blood will be pooling with his.”

I shook as terror silenced me. There was a time, not so long ago, when my life was of far less value to me than it was now. Bors had changed that. He had shown me another possible future, a future about which I had begun to dream. And now I was watching that future turn cold and dead, just like that first guard.

As I tried to keep control of my senses, the third man held me captive while his companion finally unlatched the ancient wooden door. Then, with a kick and a shove, I landed on the wet stone floor. The impact winded me and I gasped for air. As I struggled to get my breath, the door slammed shut and handful of rats scampered up the walls of my dungeon.

The last thing I heard, was their voices. One seething to the other.

“We need to find the queen. Before the king gets word.”

The old oak door was the only way in or out of my prison. I yanked on the handle until my palm was raw, but it didn’t budge; the door didn’t even rattle. The only light came from a tiny window near the ceiling, where two bricks were replaced with a thick iron grating that allowed a small amount of fresh air inside.

Once I calmed myself and slowed my breathing, I listened for any sign of life outside the hole in the bricks. I heard no human voices, but far in the distance I heard the sound of crashing waves and seagulls. Though I knew little of life in the capital—and still less of the layout of the castle itself—I had once seen a drawing of it at a traveling magic lantern show that came to our village when I was very small.

I remembered the castle was built up against the sheer, steep cliffs that ran down into the sea. “No man can scale those walls,” the magic lantern man had said. “Not if he wishes to come out alive.”

I slumped down on the wet stones and rested my forehead on my knees. Part of me felt like screaming until I was hoarse, but the guards had made my fate clear if I chose to scream and holler. They’d return to kill me, I was positive. It was up to me to find another way to freedom and back into Bors’ arms where I belonged.

Crawling on my hands and knees, I searched for any loose rocks, either as a way to escape or as a weapon to defend myself should they return. But I had hardly begun my search before the noisy hinges of the old door creaked and it swung open again.

Now there were three guards, different from the ones that had seized me and placed me in this hole. These men were younger, and dressed differently. Both of them wore matching leather belts, emblazoned with three flowers, and I knew that symbol at once—I remembered it vividly from the coronation festival. It was the Rose of Beatrice. These were the Queen’s Guard.

All became much clearer. Loyalty to the King, my father, had gotten the old guard killed. The Queen was behind this, I was sure of it.

They seized me like they were inspecting a mare to be bred. Two of them grabbed me from either side, the other tore open my blouse. He had dark eyes and a dangerous gaze. He handled my left breast roughly as he leaned in close to see my birthmark. Then he wetted his fingertips with saliva and tried to rub it away. The friction of his fingers against my flesh made my skin burn.

My skirt had worked its way up my legs, and now, nearly naked before them, I knew what would come next and I began to plead for mercy. “If I am who they I say I am, raping me will get you killed.”

The one who had checked my birthmark scoffed and shook his head as the other two let me fall to the floor. “Make yourself decent if you can, whore,” he said, and the three of them left without another word.