Page 87 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

They didn’t understand. Theywouldn’tunderstand when I finally delivered them to the old man. Really, I’d known from the beginning that my plan meant betraying them. But that was before I got to know them. Before I cared about their opinions and how they would view me when this all ended. It didn’t matter that this was the only way I could save them. All that mattered to them was if I chose the ‘right’ methods, walked down the ‘good’ path.

A hand slid over my arm, disregarding the ink, unafraid of a little mess. Fingers intertwined with mine and the ink stuck our skin together. If it dried that way, someone would need to rip us apart.

When the quest ended in defeat, the Kingdom Defense Spell failed, and the Desolated Lands fell into the Lord of Grimnight’s hands, I’d lose everything. My home. My fathers. The life I’d lived for the past twelve years. At the end of it all, I would have nothing.

Except, maybe, the person standing beside me. Wilde was the only one who might understand my choices without hating me for their consequences.

“Do what you want,” I told the others. I tightened my hold on Wilde’s hand and tugged him past the library’s gate. “We’ll be at the inn.”

Interruption Four

The lizardmen were still taller than Brutus even as they knelt in supplication. “We’ve captured one of the royal champions, Your Grimness.”

“One of them?” Brutus demanded with a deep scowl of irritation. “You were supposed to capturefive!”

The lizard’s pupils shrank into thin lines, and he shifted on his knees uneasily. “There were only three of us.”

Brutus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why were there only three of you?”

“Because the others had to guard the lair.”

Another lizard raised their head to say, “We did warn you that—”

“Silence!”

The lizard snapped their muzzle shut.

Brutus took a deep breath and eyed the minions before him, wondering what he should do with them. On the one hand, capturing one of the royal champions meant their group was smaller, weaker. On the other hand, if they had captured Treasure, then they would have removed his only spy. “Which royal champion did you capture?”

“A princess.”

Brutus relaxed slightly. As long as Treasure’s identity remained intact, he would lead the others to the lair in due time. “Where is she?”

“In the dungeons.”

Excellent. Brutus would give her time to stew in despair, then he would descend upon her and show her the true greatness of the man she foolishly believed she could defeat!

As he waited, he paced the throne room, rehearsing his grand entrance. Five minutes should be enough. Thrumming with excitement, he dramatically swished his cloak around himself and teleported into the dungeons.

He appeared in the middle of a stone hallway, water dripping from the ceiling in a maddeningly irregular pattern. Inside the cell sat a beautiful maiden, her opalescent skirts puffed up around her, her ankles delicately crossed. Golden curls cascaded around her shoulders, framing the perfect lines of her face.

Brutus had exactly ten seconds to admire her appearance before the dungeon filled with black, acrid smoke. Dammit, the smoke was supposed to appearbeforehe arrived, to give his prisoners a sense of impending doom. If it arrived afterwards, it only gave them a sickly cough.

The princess cleared her throat several times, her voice a light wheeze as she asked, “Was that necessary?”

“Only I determine what is necess—” Brutus’ booming declaration was cut off as he choked on his own theatrics.

A thick hand pierced the smog to offer Brutus a canteen of water. He took it gladly and gulped it down, washing away the lingering traces of magic.

The smoke faded, revealing that the orc guard had also provided a canteen to the princess. The idiot was supposed to let her choke and wallow in misery, not provide her relief!

Brutus cleared his throat again, more pointedly this time, and nodded for the minion to step away.

The orc took a single step back.

Brutus’ eyes almost bulged out of his head as his face tightened in dismay. He continued silently gesturing until the orc finally stepped out of the princess’ view.

He took another deep breath—a mistake. Smoke lingered in the air and clogged his lungs. His eyes watered as he suppressed the urge to fall into a coughing fit, and he greedily gulped more water to wash the sensation away.