Page 57 of Courting the Dragon Prince (A Royal Arrangement #1)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

L uther sat on the bed in the guest room Lady Larimar had escorted him to. He stared at the stone wall ahead of him, body numb and limbs hanging by his side. His gaze grew unfocused, and the wall became blurry before him. Luther had no idea how long he’d been staring at the wall.

In a daze, Luther had let Lady Larimar lead him to a guest room he’d never seen before. Obviously, he couldn’t be taken to Onyx’s room. Not after everything.

Perhaps this guest room would be his room when he lived at Limestone Castle now. After all, he would no longer be sharing a room with Onyx.

Lady Larimar ordered some cold meats, bread, cheese, and tea for him. He’d not touched anything. A fly crawled over the meat. The tea had long ago stopped steaming.

The lady had also found Luther some clothes that fit him. Not his clothes. She’d wisely decided not to send to Onyx’s room for his clothes. Lady Larimar had not apologised for Luther’s damaged clothes either. Or the cuts that marked his skin.

“These will all heal quickly,” she said. “I could send for a healer. But maybe these cuts will remind you not to get into foolish fights.” She’d shaken her head and tsked as she cleaned the small wounds. She’d even checked where Onyx had punched him.

The bruises had not yet started to appear. But Luther could feel the ache in his ribs and cheek.

When finished, she’d stared at him a moment. “You boys will make up in no time. I have no doubt of that, so stop looking like your dog died. You merely let your temper get the better of you. Happens all the time. No doubt you’ll be fine tomorrow.” She’d spoken as if they were two four-year-old children who’d been squabbling over a toy.

Luther did not share her optimism. He doubted Onyx and he would ever make up. Then she’d left Luther with his misery.

With a heavy sigh, Luther lay back on the bed and stared up at the stone ceiling. The light in the room gradually shifted to darkness.

His heart felt heavy, as if it was trying to sink through his spine and skin, through the bed, and into the floor.

“How did it all go so wrong?” Luther whispered.

Luther curled onto his side. On the day Luther had led his division to their death, it had also been the day he’d destroyed Onyx’s temple. And that had been the day Onyx had lost his sister.

Luther had not been directly a part of her death. But if he hadn’t been getting his dick sucked, he and his division would have arrived on time, and they would have been there to attack when Onyx’s sister stood defending the temple.

Luther might have killed her. Or seen her die, at least.

“Your people deserved to die.”

Luther squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out Onyx’s words.

His people had not deserved to die. Luther had. It had been Luther’s fault, after all. So many times, Luther had wished he could trade places with them. Or at least have died amongst them that day.

It was a strange thing, but Luther had never held any strong animosity towards the earth elementals for his people’s death. Perhaps because Luther blamed himself for the death of his division.

“Your people started this war. Your people invaded us because they wanted more land. It’s your fault anyone is dead! It’s your fault my sister is dead.”

Onyx’s words swirled around inside Luther’s head.

“A monstrous, bloodthirsty beast …”

That was what Luther was to Onyx. He thought Luther no better than his grandmother, who’d started the war and all the agony that followed.

A knock sounded on the door. It took Luther a moment to turn his head to face it.

Could it be Onyx? Maybe he wants to talk.

A surge of energy and hope filled him. Luther dashed to the door and opened it. His shoulders slumped.

“Warden Flint. What can I do for you?” Luther asked.

“Prince Luther.” Warden Flint inclined his head. “There are some important matters I wish to discuss with you.”

Luther should have just stayed in bed and ignored the knock. “Can it wait?”

Onyx’s uncle smiled tightly. He clasped his hands in front of him. “Unfortunately not. It needs to be dealt with now.”

Then Warden Flint turned and walked down the corridor without waiting for a response as if he just expected Luther to follow.

The nerve! Pressing his lips together, Luther followed as annoyance at the man’s presumptuousness swelled inside his chest. Did this man just think Luther was at his beck and call? Did he think Luther some servant? And what could truly be so fucking important at this moment?

Still, he followed Warden Flint, glaring at the back of his head.

The warden’s feet clomped on the stone. His grey robes swished. Several keys jangled from plaited leather cords attached to a sash at his waist. One of the keys, a brass key, had the same unusual pattern along the stem as the one that had been used on the shackles from his and Onyx’s couple’s quest.

Luther’s throat tightened at the memory. He held in a sigh. He just wanted to be left alone and lick his wounds in peace.

Warden Flint had seen Onyx and Luther fighting. Surely the man must realise how rude it was to intrude on Luther at such a time.

Did the man have no fucking decency?

But … maybe Warden Flint was bringing Luther to Onyx to try to help them make amends for the sake of the treaty.

“Where is Onyx?” Luther asked.

Warden Flint glanced back. “Resting in his room.”

Luther deflated. He could see they weren’t heading towards Onyx’s room. In fact, he didn’t recognise the part of the castle they were currently in.

So what could possibly be so important that Warden Flint needed him right this minute? He bit his lip, trying to control his irritation.

Fire and fucking flames! I just want to be left alone so I can mope! Is that too much to ask?

Seething, Luther followed Onyx’s uncle through the castle.

“Just down here.” Warden Flint led them down a flight of narrow stairs to a large wooden door.

Luther frowned. “Where are we going?” Luther glanced around. Why had Warden Flint taken him to this strange part of the castle?

Warden Flint smiled. “It’s just through here.” He opened the door. It swung open with a low, groaning creak. Warden Flint stepped aside and indicated for him to enter.

Frowning, Luther did. He froze. “Why the fuck are we in a dungeon?”

Then his heart stopped. “What?” Why the fuck was Onyx lying on the floor of one of the cells?

Before he had time to process, several arms grabbed him from behind. Grunting, Luther fought. He shoved an elbow back. It hit something soft. He heard a cry of pain.

Luther managed to turn and realised he faced four opponents. One currently clutched at his stomach, face twisted in pain. The other three fell on him. He kicked and punched. But he was outnumbered. They wrestled him to the floor.

One grabbed his arms, yanking them together in front of him. The injured man, having recovered, approached, holding out shackles similar-looking to the ones used during the couple’s quest.

Luther struggled against the hands that held him. But it was no use. The cold metal slid against the skin of his wrists. A click sounded as the shackles locked. His attackers retreated.

Warden Flint stepped forward, staring down at Luther. “I deeply regret the need to kill my nephew. But I will hold no regret for killing you, Prince Luther.” He smiled.

Fuck.