Page 44 of Fit for a Prince (Fit For A Crown #1)

Epilogue

King Septimus

T he spectators fled the arena like rats being smoked out of a pit.

King Septimus remained seated as they scurried out, his fuming rage the source of the vermin’s smoke.

The empty arena barely even had a drop of blood marking the ground.

His son had been a jester at best, entertaining the crown by acting like a clown.

Unacceptable.

He’d watched the fight with his own eyes, yet he refused to believe it was real. Other than Atlas, no swordsman could hold a candle to Lochlan’s skill on the battlefield. So how had a measly Ivalonian debutante walked away with hardly even a scratch?

“Your Majesty?” A gruff-voiced guard called from behind him. “We haven’t located the girl yet, or Prince Lochlan. I’ve already made the order to raise the bridges and close the gates. How else would you like us to proceed?”

They’re both missing?

“Where are my other sons?” Septimus asked, his gaze still riveted to the silent arena.

“Missing as well,” the guard said. “We aren’t certain if they’re aiding in the hunt or hiding alongside them.”

I see... She’s turned them all against me.

That was the only way she could have won. Lochlan must have thrown the match to put on a show. It was one thing to marry Damon’s bride, it was another to marry a warrior. The temptress must have coaxed him into her schemes... she was more clever than he realized, dangerously so.

He leaned back in his seat, taking in a short, icy breath. He should have been impressed, but he didn’t give credit to disrespectful brats. He considered all the ways he could have her killed, but then he looked back at the scurrying rats darting out of his arena.

Fake or not, her little show had earned her fans.

The battle was gripping, uniting both Ivalonians and Aemastians alike. Everyone could cheer for an underdog, especially one that dressed in blue while their blood ran red. If he killed her now, her death could easily become the spark of a much bigger flame.

He needed a marriage, not a martyr.

“Your Majesty, what are your orders?” The guard asked again.

“Raise the gates,” Septimus said, his tone colder than the frosty air. “And lower the bridges.”

“What?” The guard stepped forward, cutting into the king’s view. “By Your Majesty, we still haven’t found the girl. If she gets out–”

“I’m more concerned about letting someone else in,” he said calmly, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. “Bring me a messenger. I have invitations that I wish to send right away.”

“Invitations? To whom?” The guard asked.

Th king rose from his seat, his legs stiff from the cold despite his blazing blood.

“To the next round of potential princesses,” he looked over the castle walls, his eyes narrowing on an Aemastian flag whipping in the wind. “We’ve found one candidate, but why stop there? My sons deserve only the best, and that’s what I intend to find for them.”

Diaspro Onelle... You may have won over the princes, and even the kingdom, but I’m still not convinced that you’re not replaceable .

The Ivalonians couldn’t make a martyr out of her if she was replaced with someone superior. The game has only just begun... Will she be fit for a princess?