Page 121 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

Brendon finally dropped Rick’s foot and helped him stand. Kit ignored the orders to halt and joined the other two so they could face the minions in a united front. “What are the chances the children are in the dungeons?” they asked from the corner of their mouth.

“Fifty-fifty?” Rick guessed. “Cyril didn’t think highly of Brutus, but no one knows much about the apprentice’s plan. Maybe he wants to lock his love away, so he has time to woo them.”

Brendon snorted.

“What? It worked for us.”

“Not on purpose.”

Kit’s hand tightened on the pommel of their ruined sword. “Fight or cooperate?” On the one hand, they wanted to see how these minions compared to Cyril’s. On the other, their sword was broken, and they didn’t have a backup weapon readily available.

“Cooperate,” Rick whispered. “I want to talk to the apprentice.”

“Drop your weapon!”

It was useless anyway, so Kit discarded the broken sword and raised their empty hands.

The orcs surrounded them and tied their wrists with rope. Rick tested the bonds and tried to hide his derision as the bottom half of his palm slipped free. Amateurs. He adjusted his hands so that the rope looked tight again, not that the orcs bothered to check.

They were marched directly to the evil mage’s lair. Since the minions knew exactly where they were going and didn’t mistreat their captives, it felt like having a tour guide. The parents could watch the remaining monstrous trees from a distance without having to worry about being eaten or melted by them.

“Do we have enough cells for them?” an orc suddenly asked as they approached a side entrance to the evil lair.

Another orc scratched their head in thought. “We can put them in with the others?”

The parents all perked up at the thought of finding their children, then hurriedly slumped their shoulders and pretended defeat.

The orcs guided them to a narrow staircase, each holding onto one parent. “Careful,” Rick’s guide said, slowing down to step over a vine. “Don’t want to trip.”

At the bottom of the stairs, a reptilian minion stood guard.

The reptile’s scaled brow bunched as they surveyed the orc’s prisoners. “Who are they?”

“Trespassers,” an orc said proudly.

“But we’ve already caught everyone.” The minion surveyed the prisoner’s faces, then shook their head. “We don’t have space for extras.”

“Master Wilde told us not to kill anyone.”

“I didn’t say kill—” the reptile sighed in exasperation. “Nevermind. Put them in the cells and report to the lord so he can deal with them.”

The parents hardly noticed the carefully constructed ambiance of the cells, too focused on seeing their children again, confirming they were safe.

Trey’s familiar red hair blazed against the dreary backdrop. When he saw his fathers, he gaped in confusion. “Father? Dad?”

“I’m here too!” Kit waved their bound hand enthusiastically.

The orcs stared into the cells, confused. “One …” they counted, but stopped, because that was the only one to count.

The rest of the children were gone.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Why were my fucking fathers here? They should have returned to Bane after we’d set out on our quest, where they’d be safe—at least until the defense spell fell and the Lord of Grimnight invaded. They shouldn’t have been dragged into a cursed forest, chasing after a lie.

My stomach dropped as I saw their bound hands and torn up clothes. Everything I’d done to keep them safe, and they’d still somehow become the Lord of Grimnight’s prisoners.

The orc guards stared at the cells in confusion. When they’d left, there’d been four royal prisoners. Now the only prisoner was their master’s son. “What are you doing in there?”