Page 38 of Fit for a Prince (Fit For A Crown #1)

Chapter thirty-five

I didn’t sleep the rest of that night. I never did before a fight. Not when I had to fight Leopold to prove my worth, and not when I had to fight Lochlan to save my life.

It was a bad habit, but it gave me time to think.

To think about my plans, my strategy, and above all, my purpose for picking up a sword.

It was always my purpose that kept me up at night.

When I’d lived in Ivalon, my goal had been only to be worthy—being worthy kept me alive.

In Aemastia, being clever kept me alive, but that never stopped me from being foolish.

My purpose for fighting Lochlan was purely selfish: I wanted to see him bleed.

Part of it was to spare Cedric’s life, and most of it was to spare my own.

But the longer I lay awake and the longer I stared at my bed canopy, the more I realized that Damon’s thinking had tainted me more than I’d ever realized.

He was a trained killer, an ambitious ruler, and a copy of his father.

I’d been lured in by the power he commanded, but despite knowing it could never be my own, I’d always wanted a taste.

And that bitter taste was all I craved tonight.

When the sun finally came up, Mara and Beckham entered my room at precisely the fifth hour.

They prepared me for the day silently, almost as if I were a body they were prepping for a burial.

Mara brought a knee-length dress and wool tights, similar to the attire Oren had given me when I first dueled the prince.

Beckham set out my breakfast, urging me to eat even after I tried to ignore the heavy meal.

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded. “You’ll need your strength.”

“I have plenty of strength,” I said from behind the changing screen as Mara finished fastening my laces. I stepped back out into the room, my long curls braided back and my boots laced tight.

“Please, Diaspro.” Mara placed a hand on my shoulder, and her tender touch found a hairline crack in my armor. “Beckham worked hard on this meal for you. Your duel isn’t until dusk, after all.”

I crept closer to the hot meal, and before I knew it the savory scent of poached eggs, fluffy biscuits, and ripe fruit won over my senses. The steam from the tea wafted through the air, and when I caught a whiff of it, my jaw nearly crashed to the floor.

“Is that…? Ivalonian tea?” I asked, my mouth already salivating.

“Shh!” Beckham hushed me, then slipped me a quick wink. “I don’t know what you mean, my lady. It’s the same brew you always receive.”

He motioned for me to sit and I did so without hesitation.

I reached for the cup and instantly recognized the beautiful blend of teas and spices that reminded me of my favorite reading nook back in Ivalon.

I never thought I’d taste my home kingdom’s tea again, but just touching my tongue to the dark liquid was enough to make me feel like my kingdom was still exactly as I remembered it.

After gulping down half the cup, I realized that it wasn’t just the tea that was special.

All of the meal was made up of my favorite foods and prepared using Ivalonian techniques.

I’d had eggs many times in Aemastia, but never poached like we prepared them back home, and even the biscuits looked thicker, like they had been made with buttermilk instead of water.

Had they done this believing it might be my final meal?

“I hope you enjoy,” Beckham said with a sad but heartfelt smile. “Please fuel yourself well before your battle, and know that whatever the outcome may be, we will always remain loyal to our princess.”

He dipped his head, and Mara followed suit by curtseying behind him.

It was almost too much. I didn’t deserve any of their loyalty, especially when I had already thrown away my best chance at survival.

But seeing their kindness reminded me that there was still one more thing I could do to protect them.

“Thank you.” I slipped a hand into my pocket, retrieving the fogwrath flower I’d been saving since my visit with Cedric.

I reached for Beckham’s hand, gently tucking the flower inside his fingers.

“No matter what happens today, I will do whatever it takes to protect you both. Win or lose, I will be the crownless princess you can place your faith in.”

Beckham peeked at the flower, his eyes widening as he presumably recognized the bloom. He subconsciously reached for his throat, and even from under his turtle neck I could see the purple in his skin fading.

“Th-thank you,” he said as he took in a long and full breath.

I finished eating as much as I could stomach, then helped them clean up the dishes. They insisted that it wasn’t my job, but I was too fidgety to stay in one place and there were still hours to pass before I would be called to the arena .

I was debating passing the time by making a slingshot out of a hair ribbon and slinging pearl earrings around the room, when all of a sudden, the door to my suite creaked open.

Mara, Beckham, and I nearly jumped out of our skin.

No one ever barged in without knocking before unless they were soldiers in the night.

We’d gotten so used to the warning that all of us stopped what we were doing like we were criminals caught in an act, even though none of us were actively doing anything wrong.

A hooded figure slipped inside, racing my pulse as they quickly pressed the door closed behind them. I wished I had grabbed a makeshift weapon after all, but before I could confront the intruder, they pulled down their hood to reveal a familiar grey gaze.

“Atlas?” I gaped, my heart still racing despite no longer feeling endangered. What is he doing here?

“P-prince Atlas?” Mara stammered, clutching the dusting rag she’d nearly dropped to her chest. “How may we assist you?”

Atlas looked around the room, his eyes sharp as he settled his gaze on the two servants. “Both of you, leave now.”

“Pardon?” Beckham blinked. “Leave where? ”

“You’ve been summoned to help prepare for the duel, by my order,” he said. “Go now. If anyone asks, you were locked out of this room. Do you understand me?”

He wants them gone from this room...away from me.

Mara and Beckham said nothing, instead they both looked at me. They had received an order from their prince, but they wouldn’t move unless it was the will of their princess.

I looked at Atlas, my heart still refusing to settle as I let his gaze wash over me. Maybe it was foolish to trust a villain’s son, but following a prince’s lead was the one thing I did best.

“Go,” I instructed my servants. “Leave us.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Mara said, bowing her head to me before sneaking Atlas a brief glare. She hurried out of the room with Beckham right behind her, leaving me alone with the prince in my glamorous cage.

“They’re certainly loyal,” Atlas remarked with an impressed lift of his brow.

“Why are you here, Atlas?” I demanded as I eyed his discreet attire. “Come to give me some tips to break Lochlan’s nose?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes, then crossed the room in two brief strides to grab me by the hand. “I’m saving your life again. ”

“What?” I pulled my hand back, a jolt jumping up my arm as I separated from his touch. “Saving me how?”

“Stop asking questions and just come with me.” He reached for me again and I grabbed him by the wrist, my grip only strong enough to annoy him.

“No,” I said firmly. “Tell me what is going on first.”

His chest rose and fell with a flare of his nostrils, his frustration written across his face like a bold splatter of ink.

“Why can you not simply listen?” he seethed.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Because there’s no time to talk.” He pulled his wrist to his chest, but I didn’t let go of him, so the movement only pulled me closer. “I need to get you out of here.”

My breath caught. “You...you want me to escape?”

“Only if you stop talking and come already.”

“Why?” I asked. “I thought you wanted me around to make Cedric happy.”

“I thought you wanted to live?” he asked.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“ I don’t want to see Lochlan hurt you!” His voice nearly rattled the walls, and he sucked in a breath like he could retrieve his voice from the room.

I released his wrist, and he glanced back around the room to ensure his voice hadn’t alerted anyone.

Either no one had heard us, or no one cared what the doomed-to-die girl was fussing about.

“I can’t watch Lochlan slaughter you, all right?

” He sounded defeated. For a man who was so strong, I’d never expected this to be what weakened him.

Why did it weaken me, too?

“He won’t,” I said, trying to speak softly while still being heard over the throb of my heart. “I don’t plan to roll over and let him win.”

“He’ll still hurt you,” he said, the ache in his voice pulling the breath from my lungs.

“Why do you care so much?” I whispered.

“I don’t.” His words were stubborn, but his eyes told all.

He was infuriating, yet I couldn’t help but cling to his every word.

“I don’t care if you vanish, or if I never hear from you again.

I don’t care if you escape, if you marry my brother, or if you hide out in the tundra for the next ten years.

But I can’t stand the thought of watching you die.

” His voice cracked. “It’s ridiculous. You are the irritant I can’t stand, and the mystery I can’t live without.

If you run away, I can always imagine a world with you in it, but if you die. ..I’ll hate you even more.”

“You hate me?” I inched closer to him, my words pounding against his defenses as he stood his ground.

“I do,” he said in a husky voice. “Which is why you have to leave. ”

“I’m not leaving,” I said. “If I go, what will happen to Mara or Beckham? Or any other Ivalonian in this castle?”

“They don’t matter like you do.”

“They matter more than I do,” I argued. “They’re the only reason I’m standing here today. They’re the reason why you hate me.”

“I really do hate you.” He didn’t sound like he did. His voice was wistful and deep, his eyes locked on my lips as his head drifted closer to mine, stopping before he could get too close.

“I know you do,” I whispered, his lips tempting me the longer he looked at mine. “But you still hate me enough to save me, don’t you?”

He sucked in a breath, close enough that he stole away my air as he slowly pulled back. The hatred in his eyes left me in a trance, enchanting my heart and filling my chest with flutters.

“You’re so stubborn,” he mumbled with a touch of a growl.

“And you hate that.”

“I do,” he said, tugging his hood back over his head and shadowing his eyes. “I’ll never understand why you risk your life for a kingdom that’s already dead.”

“Because they aren’t all dead. ”

“No, but they aren’t yours either,” he said, his voice shifting into more of an interrogating tone. “You never married Damon, so you have no responsibilities to his people.”

“I can still care about them,” I argued, no longer wanting to meet his gaze as he prodded me for secrets.

“But why?” He crossed his arms. “Why did he try to make you his bride at all? You have no noble blood, your family is conveniently dead, and no one ever heard about you until the day of the siege. Not even Cedric, who visited Ivalon in the past.” He hunted relentlessly for my gaze, catching it and holding it tight as he hammered me with his questions.

“Who are you, Diaspro? If you won’t let me free you, then at least unravel the mystery for me before it dies with you. ”

My lips twitched. For a moment, I almost told him.

The desire to tell him everything was intoxicating, nearly robbing me of my mind and convincing my tongue to let loose all my secrets. He was right, I could very well die today.

But I wouldn’t. And if I did, my secrets would die with me.

“I can’t tell you,” I said, my lips tingling as I watched him bite down on his own. “Because I hate you too.”