Page 16 of Fit for a Prince (Fit For A Crown #1)

Chapter sixteen

“ D on’t move so much,” Mara scolded me as I sat up in bed to reach for my tea. “Let me get it.”

“I’m quite capable of feeding myself,” I argued, but she pushed on my shoulder to shove me back against the pillows. She was surprisingly strong when she wanted to be.

“All I’ve seen you capable of is finding creative ways to nearly get yourself killed,” Mara said in a snappy voice, handing me the tea as carefully as if I were an elderly woman with weak wrists. “Now stay put. Your ribs need to heal.”

I obeyed, accepting the drink and leaning back into the pillows with a grumble. It wasn’t the first time I’d broken a rib. Learning to fight wasn’t exactly one of my cushier roles in Ivalon.

“They’re probably just bruised,” I muttered through the steam in my cup. “They’ll heal up in a few weeks on their own. ”

“Not if you’re running around getting more bruises.

” Mara puttered around the room, collecting the old bandages she had swapped out from my more minor wounds I’d earned during the duel and squabble with the guards.

“You’ve already been reckless enough, my lady.

It’s only a matter of time before people start noticing all the trouble you’ve caused. ”

Except they had already been noticing, and that was the point.

Walking back to my chambers had been my most triumphant pass through the castle halls yet.

The Aemastian servants saw a silly girl who had learned a hard lesson by the hands of her prince, while the Ivalonians saw a survivor.

I should have been killed the moment I stepped out of my room unescorted, and they knew that.

They’d noticed me walk back, and no bruise or scrape could take away from the power that gave them.

“Have you seen Oren lately?” My thoughts drifted back to his kind eyes that had been darkened by the nasty bruise. He had been absent ever since he’d walked me back to my suite yesterday.

“I passed him in the servants’ quarters briefly, but he was more quiet than usual,” Mara said as she nibbled her lip. “They’re watching him. Almost as closely as they watch you. You have no idea how fortunate you were to come back in one piece.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” I said.

“You should be!” Mara huffed as she scooped up my discarded dress from the duel.

I watched as her hands constantly fought for something to do, as if she couldn’t bear to stand still.

I knew that feeling well. It was when you thought you had lost something and were useless to save it.

“When they came back to take Oren, I thought you were both...” She let out a deep exhale, her eyes glassy but blinking too fast for me to get a good read on them.

She bundled the laundry up tightly in her arms, squeezing it snug against her chest. “I’m just glad that you’re alive, is all. ”

She discreetly wiped at her eye, then turned away so she could drop the clothes down the laundry chute.

My heart ached for her, but my mind was resilient.

It couldn’t be easy watching me put myself through these trials, but I wasn’t here to be comfortable.

My kingdom may have fallen, but I was still at war every day I woke up within these castle walls.

No battle could be won without a bit of bloodshed.

“It could have been worse,” I said, my fingers warming around my tea cup as I recalled my cool grip on the frosty sword handles. “Lochlan must have gone easy on me. ”

“Lochlan isn’t exactly known for going easy on people.

” Mara turned back around, her eyes dry and pointed as she met me with a quizzical glare.

“He’s ranked as the third most skilled swordsman in all the surrounding kingdoms. The only men more skilled than him are Prince Atlas and…

” Her lips froze before the name Damon could escape.

“Well, I guess just Atlas now. Either way, I still can’t figure out how you escaped the duel alive. ”

That’s just it—Lochlan is nothing compared to what I handled with Damon.

“I surrendered,” I said simply, my grip tightening on the cup.

“Oren said it was more than that.” Mara moved closer to the bed, her presence feeling more suffocating than it usually did.

She sat down by my feet, staring at my injuries in search of something that would explain my survival.

“Where did you learn how to defend yourself like that? Oren said you were nearly as skilled as Lochlan.”

Did he?

I felt my jaw clench. I had hoped his eye injury would keep him from taking in too much of the battle. Of course, the attendants would have seen what was going on, but it was more dangerous for an Ivalonian to see those skills.

They couldn’t know .

“Again.” The soldier snapped the whip at my ankles, only an inch away from my flesh as my sparring partner raised his sword for another round. “That last attack was too sloppy. If you can’t kill a man in one attack, what use are you to King Leopold?”

“Yes sir,” I panted, my lungs burning with every breath. “I will not fail our king.”

I lunged forward, knocking the man down with a single blow.

“Better,” the soldier said, sounding less impressed than I’d hoped. “Bring in the next soldier. Again!”

If they ever found out what I had done…what I could do.

“Lady Diaspro?” Mara’s gentle voice pulled me out of my memories. “Were you listening? I asked you where you learned to fight like that?”

Goosebumps prickled down my arms, all of my senses feeling electrified as I replayed every hour of relentless training. It was easy to be strong when your survival depended on it, but right now my survival depended on my true strength staying hidden.

“Did you ever meet King Leopold?” I asked calmly as I rested my mug in my lap. Clutching it in my palms was a good reminder that it was real and I was no longer on the training field .

“Be careful with that name, my lady,” Mara whispered, looking around with a bitten lip before scooching closer on the bed. “But no, I can’t say I had the pleasure of ever meeting the royal family.”

Hardly a pleasure.

“He was more similar to King Septimus than most people realize.” I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to compare one monster to another.

“He valued strength above all else, hence why Prince Damon was always so strong. He had to stay in his father’s good graces.

Everyone did or else they didn’t stay at all.

” I looked down at my ring, my fingers suddenly feeling too numb to sense even the mug’s warm surface.

I could still feel Damon’s bloodied and calloused hands.

They’d always been so cold. “In order to be worthy of the king’s favor, I had to become strong, too.

As strong as Damon would allow me to be. ”

But it still wasn’t enough; otherwise, he wouldn’t be gone. I was only strong enough to survive him.

“I think I understand.” Mara pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning against the bedpost by the footboard as she soaked in a truth that didn’t seem to surprise her too much.

It wasn’t hard to believe in corrupt kingdoms when you were so deeply embedded in one.

“That would certainly explain why you were favored by the old king, but I don’t think King Septimus wants you to be strong. He just wants you to be likable.”

“Then I’ll become that too,” I said assuredly, my thumb brushing Damon’s ring as if I was making a promise to his ghost. “Whatever it takes. I’ll find a place in this kingdom just as I did in my own.”

And then I’ll burn it to the ground and dance on Septimus’s ashes. Whatever it takes.

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Mara smiled, her scar crinkling around her eye. “Because making you likable should be much easier than making you strong, although I’m not certain you’ll have much of a chance of winning over Lochlan after your duel yesterday.”

“That’s fine.” I smirked, recalling the delectable look of defeat on his face. “Atlas and Cedric both seem to be viable options. With a little more one-on-one time, I’m sure I’ll be able to convince one that I’m worthy of a crown.”

“Or even better, you might even get a chance to fall in love.” Mara clasped her hands together, bringing them up to her cheek with a dreamy look. “Can you imagine? Falling in love with an enemy prince?”

“Hardly,” I said with a fake smile as a gag threatened to escape my throat.

Falling in love was not an option. It didn’t matter if I was a prisoner, a lady, or a princess; Aemastia was still my enemy.

I wouldn’t hesitate to kill my own husband if it meant avenging my kingdom.

I’d already watched a loved one bleed out on the floor.

If I had to watch that again, there would be no love to speak of.

“I suppose we’ll see what unfolds,” I said sweetly, my teeth rotting from the sugary tone. “Prince Atlas said he’d make an effort to let me out of my room more, so perhaps he’ll be the first to call on me.”

“Prince Atlas?” Mara wrinkled her nose. “He’s not what I would consider the chivalrous type. He’s so reserved and moody. Prince Cedric seems more likely to extend an invitation first, though I suppose we’ll have to wait and see who sends a messenger. Until then, you need your rest.”

“Yes, I know—” A heavy knock cut me off.

Mara and I locked eyes, the same questions running through our shared look before she scrambled off the bed to reach the door. I set my cup down, grabbing a fistful of the coverlet to squeeze as I waited for Mara to answer the door and speak to whoever was on the other side.

The exchange was quick, and after only a few seconds, she shut the door and looked back at me with a face that was paler than my silk bed sheets.

“You’ve been summoned, my lady,” she said in a hoarse voice. “We must hurry and get you ready. ”

The eeriness in her voice slowed my movements as I sat up in bed, churning my stomach and tightening my chest as I slid my legs over the side.

“Which prince summoned me first?” I asked, my voice breathy as I noticed the glassy sheen reappear in Mara’s eyes.

“Not a prince, my lady.” She swallowed. “King Septimus.”