Page 42 of Contested Crown

There were four more pops, and the mages we had originally tangled with appeared in the room. I smirked, seeing them the worse for wear, sweaty and tired. One of them looked almost gray. Now that they were closer, I saw their House Morrison crests were marked with long white lines across them diagonally.

The woman who had initially spoken to us bowed her head. “Lady Elizabeth. Do you have anything else you need us for?”

Elizabeth waved them away. “No. Thank you. I’ll let the seneschal know of your assistance.”

“Thank you.” The woman bowed deeply, her voice choked with some emotion I didn’t recognize. She waved her hand, and the four mages disappeared, leaving us alone with “Lady Elizabeth.”

“Would you like something to eat?” Elizabeth asked. “I can have the kitchen send something up.”

“Oh, so this is a five-star kidnapping.” I crossed my arms. “Room service along with our imprisonment.”

Elizabeth’s lips went thin, and she narrowed her eyes. Then, she looked away from me, dismissing me completely as she addressed Cade. “I hope your friend doesn’t speak for you, Prince Bartlett. I’m sure once you hear what we have to offer, you’ll understand that we have a common goal. I very much hope to become allies.”

“Allies don’t hold each other at claw point.” I reached up to my neck and touched the wounds that were still sluggishly bleeding.

“I’ll order some food,” Elizabeth said, her smile going strained.

Cade hadn’t said anything, merely reaching up and stroking his hands through his hair, removing the disguise so that he looked more like himself. The expression on his face was almost bored. But I had been with him for weeks, and I knew when he was actually bored. Now, he was feeling something else. His eyes didn’t even glance at me, but I still remembered his voice when he had given in. He’d been scared. Scared for me.

Leaning forward, she pressed a button on a speaker in the center of the table. It rang once before being picked up by the kitchen. As Elizabeth ordered for us, I came up next to Cade’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“We can run from here.”

Cade finally glanced at me, his blue eyes as chilly as they had ever been, but I could see beneath to the bone-deep exhaustion and the terror that still lingered. He shook his head just slightly, then glanced significantly at the door.

I sniffed, but I couldn’t smell anything beyond it. This room was warded the same way Cade’s bedroom had been. No sounds, no scents were allowed in unless they were close enough. You’d only known someone was outside if they were close enough to knock. For all I knew, there was an entire army of House Morrison mages behind that door.

“Do you have a preference on juice, Prince Bartlett?” Elizabeth asked. “Fresh orange juice, pomegranate, melon?”

“Orange juice,” Cade said. He glanced at the door again, and I read what he was suggesting immediately.

As soon as the door opened, I would be able to find out how many people were outside. Then we would know if we could run or if we were stuck here.

“I’m sorry for the delay. We’re just waiting on a couple of…” Two pops sounded, and Elizabeth’s face broke out in a smile.

Three mages appeared in the room. An older man and woman, dressed in high-necked formal mage clothes, wearing House Morrison’s teal. Beside them was a young man, about Cade’s age.

The three of them barely took any time to orient themselves, immediately approaching Cade. They all shook hands, murmuring greetings, and I wasn’t surprised that Cade seemed to know them on sight.

“And who is this?” The older man looked at me, his smile friendly, although his eyes didn’t crinkle.

“This is Miles.” Cade stared at me significantly, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to get, until he continued, “My consort.”

There was an immediate stiffening between all three of the House Morrison mages, and the older woman reached out to grip the older man’s forearm. Elizabeth looked intrigued, glancing between us with a small smile on her face.

The young man recovered first.

“Consort Bartlett, a pleasure. Phelan Morrison.” Phelan’s grip was firm, his palm dry. “You aren’t wearing a collar.”

“We don’t do that,” I said. “Cade’s very progressive.”

“You aren’t concerned about us seeing whatever magic you gifted him?” Phelan asked Cade. No one had told us what his position was yet in House Morrison, but with a smile that sharp, he was someone we needed to watch.

“No. I’m not.” Cade kept his eyes on Phelan’s.

The older man extended his hand to me, breaking the staring contest between a glaring Cade and a smiling Phelan.

“Howard, King of House Morrison. A pleasure to meet you, Consort Bartlett. This is my wife, Caroline, Queen of House Morrison.” He gestured to the woman, who nodded her head. “Elizabeth! Did you order any food?”