Page 3 of Fit for a Prince (Fit For A Crown #1)

Chapter three

I t felt strange to wear shoes again, and even worse to wear such tight slippers.

Getting all of the prison grime washed off left me feeling lighter, but my steps were just as heavy.

Eyes were everywhere. I was used to being looked at in Ivalon back when I was a prized steed on display, but here I felt more like a sheep being led to its slaughter.

The steward walked just as quickly as before, and the guards showed no mercy while dragging me behind him. I was still too weak to keep up effectively, and the toe-crushing shoes I had on made it even harder, but I refused to fall. I knew better than to stumble while under scrutiny.

My hair was still soaked, leaving a damp patch across the front of my new dress and a trail of puddles in my path.

The maids hissed around me like shadowy basilisks, grumbling about the messy girl.

I tried to keep my eyes forward, focusing on the destination instead of the distractions.

They didn’t dress up prisoners for executions unless they were going to make a show out of it .

I wonder how many Ivalonians King Septimus has killed for his entertainment.

It was hard to be scared of death when you had already burnt your heart out flirting with it.

Prince Damon’s death carved out the last truly living piece of my soul, even if I had expected it to happen all along.

What remained was essentially already dead, like a cut flower that was crusty and brown but still held on to its last bit of color.

The halls grew dimmer. There were no windows in the center of the palace, leaving only burning sconces to light the halls and illuminate the servants’ scathing looks. When we finally arrived at the throne room doors, they reminded me of the pair that had burned down in Ivalon.

I’d spent many hours behind those doors, doing everything I could to impress King Leopold and prove my worth.

All of those hours wasted... I’d spent my life putting in the work, sweat, and blood required to please the Ivalonian king who had now been reduced to ash and bone.

It seemed fitting that my life should end behind a set of doors that carried the same haunting feeling.

The doors split open, revealing a dark room trimmed in red.

The crimson carpets stretched across the floor, making me wonder if it was used to mask the spilling of blood.

The walls were decorated with sheets of obsidian, trimmed in gold.

The black glass reflected off the opposing walls, making the glowing orange wall sconces look like they went on forever.

The room felt so much bigger with the clever mirror effect, but also all the more eerie.

It was like looking into the darkest part of the ocean where the jaws of a leviathan were waiting to pull you under.

King Septimus sat in the back of the room, his gold throne the most colorful furnishing in the entire space. A steel lantern burned above the king’s crown, while a matching one remained unlit above what must have been the former queen’s throne.

Queen Cheree, the keystone that the war was built upon.

King Septimus looked just as he had the night Ivalon burned, except instead of armor he wore a thickly pleated silver tunic ribbed in gold and topped off with a black mantle that swept the base of his throne.

His crown looked familiar, and as I moved closer to the foot of his throne, I finally recognized the blue stone that was welded into the gold.

It was an iva gemstone, the same type that had been placed at the center of King Leopold’s crown.

I looked again, my stomach rotting in my gut as I really studied the gem. It wasn’t just any iva, it was the exact one from King Leopold’s crown.

“Lady Diaspro.” He plucked my name off his lips like it was a fatty piece of meat he was spitting out. The guards pushed me to my knees, each grabbing me by a shoulder to force me to look up at their king. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”

His greeting caused my heart to thud. Lady Diaspro was an intentional title, but I couldn’t discern if it was meant to be a jab, or a trick to make me respond to a title that I was no longer in possession of.

My previous noble ranking held as much value as a pile of ashes.

The guard squeezed my shoulder, urging me to respond to the king, but I pressed my chapped lips together.

“You have shockingly poor manners for a girl who was chosen to become a princess.” King Septimus curled his fingers across the arm of his throne, scraping his nails against the surface. “Perhaps one day you’ll entertain me with the story of how you wormed your way into Leopold’s good graces.”

“Is that why you brought me here?” I asked, trying not to be startled by how my voice echoed. “To entertain you?”

“That’s Your Majesty to you!” The guard who had squeezed my shoulder kicked at my shin, shooting pain all the way up my leg and forcing me to flinch. I bit my tongue but refused to let my head fall or break eye contact with my kingdom’s murderer.

“ Your Majesty ,” I said with an icy resonance that could rival Aemastia’s winter. The king’s lips twitched, clearly pleased to see me grovel .

“I do enjoy a good show,” King Septimus said as he raised his fingers to his chin, tracing his wicked smile before resting his head in his palm. “But if that was all that I wanted, then you would have been dead months ago.”

I felt my muscles knot, my body itching to squirm under his vile glances. I forced myself to remain rigid, not allowing him any more of a show than he’d already received.

“If you don’t wish for me to amuse you, then why keep me alive?” I asked with a bold lift of my chin. “Why keep any of the Ivalonians alive if you have no use for them?”

What is there left for you to take from us?

“Because I want it all.” The king’s voice slithered under my skin and tangled my nerves, his dark eyes flickering with greed in the lantern’s light.

“Everything Leopold once held dear must be mine. No matter how insignificant .” He scoffed at my weakened body and sloppy appearance.

“When Leopold took my Cheree, I swore an oath that I would not rest until I had stamped on his grave while wearing his crown. I don’t want your people, your kingdom, or even you , but I won’t let anything that belonged to Leopold roam unchained. ”

I had feared as much. My focus drifted to the empty throne and the unlit lantern above it. Queen Cheree hadn’t deserved to die, but that didn’t mean the bloodshed needed to multiply so fiercely .

“So you’ve brought me out of prison simply to explain why I’m in chains?” I asked, earning another kick from the guard for still refusing to address the king properly. I braced my leg that time, absorbing the blow a little more easily.

“I’ve brought you out because I’ve finally decided how to use you.

” He smiled at me, and I felt the urge to heave.

“That ring of yours is special, as I’m sure you know.

It belonged to Queen Vivica for decades.

Its enchantment prevents just anyone from removing it, and it only allows the ring to be placed on the bearer’s finger if they love them.

” I twisted the ring so the stone was in my palm, subconsciously clutching it as if I could protect it from his sharp eyes.

“Prince Damon must have loved you very dearly to give you that ring. How tragic that he’s not here with us today. ”

I should have been angry, or at the very least heartbroken.

Damon’s name was a feeling all on its own, one that was still numb and intangible.

I still couldn’t swallow the fact that he was truly gone.

He had been destined to die, yet he had been the air that I breathed, and now I was slowly suffocating in an Aemastian corset.

“Leopold loved his son more than anything,” King Septimus continued in a steel voice. “Nothing was ever good enough for him, but somehow you were. I’ve taken Leopold’s crown, his wife, his son, and now all that’s left is his daughter-to-be.”

His devious grin clawed at my soul, warning me and motivating me all in the same moment. The ring felt hot on my finger, like Damon’s presence was burning inside it, itching for a chance to throw his choice words at his murderer.

“Do you plan to make a public display of my death, then?” I forced the question out, my throat tightening around the words as the hope for something more than a noose scraped at the back of my mind. What if I’m not dying today?

“No,” the king said with a corrupt chuckle that riddled my arms with goosebumps. “I plan to make a public display of your wedding.”

“Wedding?” My breath caught. “To whom?”

“This is the part where I get to be entertained.” He clasped his fingers together, his chunky rings clacking against each other.

“I have three sons all in need of wives. Like Damon, they’re rather picky regarding whom they find fit to court, but if you can ensnare one prince, surely you can entice one more to marry you. ”

I felt like my ears were ringing. Out of all the things I had expected King Septimus to do with me, this scenario had never crossed my mind. I had expected death, humiliation, and perhaps even torture...not all three tied to a pair of wedding rings.

“You’re engaging me to one of your sons?” I said, my mouth agape.

“Of course not,” the king said with a twisted laugh. “I’m simply allowing you the opportunity to charm them. You’ll have until the end of the season to convince one of the princes to marry you. I don’t care which.”

Convince an Aemastian prince to marry me?

I curled my toes in my too-tight slippers. Finding my place in Ivalon had taken a lifetime; how was I meant to find a place in Aemastia within only a few months?

“And if none propose?” It felt foolish to ask a question I could already predict the answer to, but I needed every fact I could get. Impossible tasks were something I had grown accustomed to in Ivalon, but without Damon, I wasn’t sure if anything would ever be attainable again.

“Then that can only mean one thing,” King Septimus said grimly. “Prince Damon was your soulmate, and you two belong together.”

A lump bobbed in my throat as I swallowed back the hard truth.

The task seemed straightforward enough. Marry a prince and survive, or fail and die.

I’d already accepted death as my fate, but that burn for more was still present.

Damon was still present within me. He would never have accepted death as an option; he would have fought for a revenge a hundred times worse than what Septimus enacted.

This opportunity was nothing more than another prison. It was a cage with multiple locks that had separate keys. Marrying an Aemastian prince may have been a fate worse than death, but being close to a prince left me in the opportune spot to take something precious from Aemastia.

Damon didn’t roll over and die. Neither will I. I’ll avenge every soul that was lost.

I twirled the ring around on my finger so the stone faced out. If I was going to carry the memory of Damon with me, I would live out the example he set.

“Very well, Your Majesty .” My eyes pierced through his smile. “I’ll prove my worth to Aemastia.”