Page 87 of The Nymph Prince

“Let him go,” he growled in my ear. “Do not cause a scene. That’s what they want. Just any reason to throw us in the dungeon.”

I clenched my hand into a fist, and even though I hated the thought of Lorcan being away from us, I nodded.

“You remember what we discussed?” Reif whispered. “The moment things turn for the worst, you act. Understood?”

“Aye.”

Malik and Reif had told me to kill as many guards as possible if it came to a fight. By freezing them all and having them kill themselves with their own weapons. I wasn’t sure how many I could harm before the rest turned their focus on me. The guards had said I’d more than likely be killed if it came to that. The humans would discover I was a mage and ensure I didn’t leave the castle with my head attached.

I’d give my life without second thought. For any of them.

Lorcan went through the doors, looking back at me one last time before he did. Before they closed, I got a glimpse of what awaited inside. A king on his throne and two lines of armed guards on each side of him…and my nymph, facing them all down.

21

Lorcan

The image I’d had in my head of King James didn’t match the man before me. I’d pictured him with a large belly that told of his gluttonous ways, a head of thinning hair, and maybe a beard.

The man on the throne, who smirked as I approached him, was none of those things.

His short hair swooped across his brow and was the color of honey. The gold crown atop his head held sparkling gemstones that paired well with his equally sparkling topaz eyes. His squared jaw was the type that caused maidens to swoon. Men, too, I imagined.

“What brings the prince of the sea to my kingdom?” King James asked, swinging his leg where it rested on one of the throne’s armrests. “Tensions lay between the land and the sea, you know. I’d have every right to strike you down if I wish it.”

There were four armed guards on each side of me. Eight in total. Ten, if you included the two guarding the door behind me. If this turned into a bloodbath, I’d have little chance of survival.

“And do you wish it?” I asked, lifting my chin.

King James tapped his fingers in his lap. His slouched position, one leg slung over the armrest and the other spread out, gave him a very immature demeanor. I knew not how old he was, but I wouldn’t put him past twenty-five years. Any older would be surprising.

I’d expected an old, grouchy man and got a defiant little shit instead.

He sat up in the throne and peered down at me. I could see his mind at work, playing out his moves like a game of chess. He was already ahead by forcing me to see him without my men. A move well-played on his part.

But the game was not over yet.

“I admit it’s tempting,” he answered, toying with the gold ring on his forefinger. “Your people have given me such a headache these last weeks.”

“What do you mean? My people have done nothing to you.” My tone was harsher than intended, but I found it much too hard to play nice when my blood boiled. “We only wish to abide by the treaty that was signed years and years ago, between your ancestor and my father. The same treaty you’ve been testing the limits of during your push for power.”

A cold expression crossed his face. “That sharp tongue of yours has no place in my throne room.” Then, there was a slight smirk. “But maybe it has a place in my bedchamber. Depending on how this little chat plays out, we can see if you’re just as feisty in bed as you are standing in front of me.”

“You will never know, Your Majesty,” I answered, adding his title to my words out of mock respect. “I have no desire to be in your bed.”

“I said nothing of your desire, prince,” he countered, narrowing his topaz eyes. “I’m a man who gets what he wants, when he wants it. Your opinion on the matter is of no concern.”

“You would take me by force?” I stepped closer, and the men on either side of me shifted to place their hands on their swords. “You could try. The little I know of you, of your conquest for power, has been revealing to the type of man you are. You cower behind walls as you bid your men to do what you’re too afraid to do yourself. In a match between us, there’s no doubt in my mind as to who would be the victor.”

King James smiled and crossed one leg over the other. “If this is your way of gaining my favor, you are off the mark, prince of the sea. Threatening the king? I should have your throat slit right here and now. Or maybe have you bound with chains and tossed into my chamber for me to enjoy later before slitting your throat myself.”

“There was no threat,” I said, smiling up at him. “Only a statement of fact should you ever lay a hand on me without my permission.”

Damn my pride. Father always said my sarcastic tongue and attitude would land me in trouble one day.

It seemed that day had arrived. But I couldn’t keep my silence when the vile king spoke of rape. Not even my father, who was a kinganda god, had ever forced any man or woman to do anything against their will.

King James was a spineless, power-hungry tyrant.