Page 42 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

Prince Cedrych

Ipaced the length of Vasil’s bedchambers with my heavy boots thundering across the stone floor while replaying the conversation I had with my mother in the parlor, angry at myself, angry at her. No matter how hard I tried to maintain my composure, she unraveled me every time.

Lost in thought, I didn’t hear the movement behind me until it was too late.

Turning, I saw a masked figure approaching me swiftly with his gloved hands raised.

Before I could react, both my arms were locked behind my back with my wrists restrained, preventing me from unfurling my wings or defending myself.

Sorcery, no doubt, but it felt different from Lord Vasil’s magic. Darker, more sinister.

I tried to call out to the guards, and a cold metal bar, like a horse’s bit, was crammed into my mouth.

It appeared out of nowhere. Next came metal cuffs around my ankles and a cloth bag over my head.

Darkness enveloped me. More assailants filed into the room as low grunts and commands were uttered by voices I didn’t recognize.

Then I was moving, weightless. A rush of air blew past, then the brief jolt of landing in what felt like a pile of hay accompanied by the smell of wet earth and horses.

The entirety of my kidnapping took mere minutes

“Godsdamnit,” I grunted, my speech unintelligible. I’d hardly even put up a fight.

The platform underneath me was moving, not the rolling cadence of a carriage, but the smoothness of flight.

A wagon that could fly? These kidnappers must be fae, or have fae goons helping them.

But how had that metal sorcerer bent the bars on the window?

Only Vasil could do that. And every sorcerer leaves behind a signature mark, he’d told me so.

“Release me at once,” I demanded, but the bit in my mouth prevented my words from taking shape. “You’re going to regret this,” I warned, a futile threat.

“At ease, Your Highness,” said a deep voice, one laced with menace. “We don’t want to harm you. But we will if we must.”

Clearly they knew who I was, but why had they taken me? To get to Vasil? Was I the lure for some nefarious plot?

My lord would come for me, of that I was certain, and he’d surely bring reinforcements along with him.

I began hollering then, as loud as I could manage, even with the metal in my mouth.

My kidnapper lifted my hood just long enough to blow some sweet-smelling powder in my face.

I coughed and sneezed and soon after, my limbs grew heavy, my thinking sluggish. The scoundrel must have drugged me.

“I apologize, Your Highness, but I can’t have you arousing suspicion. We’ll talk more when we arrive at our destination. I look forward to becoming better acquainted with Lord Vasil’s betrothed. Surely, you must be very near and dear to him.”

Headquarters? Acquainted? The only thing I wanted to acquaint this guy with was my sword. My sword! I didn’t feel its familiar weight against my hip. They must have disarmed me during my abduction, the bastards.

“Curse you and your mother,” I slurred into the metal bit. I could barely keep my eyes open. My last thought was of Vasil just that morning, the smile he’d given me as we were leaving his dungeon, brighter and more hopeful than the dawn.