Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

  Another shrug. “We’re alike, you and I. Small, insignificant pieces in a bigger game.”

  A strange shiver slunk down her spine. “What game?”

  His smile was tight. “If you stay here long enough, you’ll soon learn of it. If not, then it doesn’t matter, now does it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I hope you’ll think on what I said. The sooner I inform the King, the sooner I can make arrangements for you to return home.” He whirled, scattering leaves beneath his feet.

  “Wait.”

  He stopped.

  “I’ve made my decision. I want you to tell the King.”

  Draven nodded. “It will be done. Your trust in me isn’t misplaced, Evelyn. We’ll get you back to your home.” And then he disappeared into the depths of the garden.

  Had she made the right decision? Regardless, there was nothing she could do about it now. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill and followed the stone path until she reached the marble balcony railing encircling the edge of the gardens.

  She planted her elbows on the top and stared out at the city. A starburst of roads streaked away from the palace, which was obviously the pinnacle of the city. The buildings lining the streets were practically miniature palaces, several stories high with light beaming from their arching windows. The farther the buildings were from the road, the closer they squatted to the ground. Clever; the richer sections of the city were displayed on the roads while the poorer sections were hidden behind them.

  In the distance, a moonlit wall rose above all the buildings, encapsulating the entire city. Was the wall to keep the people in or something out?

  The frigid air seeped past the fabric of her dress, soaking her skin until her body was taut with suppressed shivers. She strode back into the gardens. Perhaps she should go back to the ballroom. But if she did, what would she find there? An uproar over the King marrying the wrong queen? Guards searching for her? Had she made the right decision in trusting the Duke?

  Evelyn stopped by a fountain, its silvered waters dribbling from a pitcher into the pool below. She knelt by its side and touched the water. Ripples dimpled the pool, the water alternating between shadow and white moonlight. She hardly dared to believe Draven could persuade the King to return her home. The King would likely prioritize his country’s protection over her desires. So would he imprison her? Remain married to her?

  Someone’s silhouette jutted into the pool’s reflection, blocking the lower portion of the moon.

  Evelyn turned. “Drav—”

  A hand curled around her hair and shoved her into the pool.

  Her cheek slammed against the stone bottom, and she instinctively gasped before coughing up water. She tried to gather her arms and legs under her to push herself upright, but her assailant kept her submerged, his hand pressed against the back of her skull.

  She reached back and clawed at his hand, but his grip remained firm. She squirmed and thrashed, until the water around her turned white and frothy. The pressure on her lungs increased as the need to breathe consumed her every thought.

  And then she gasped.

  She sputtered, coughed the liquid back out, but another involuntary gasp filled her mouth with water. A burning sensation ripped through her lungs. Had she the breath, she would have screamed.

  And then her assailant released her.

  Evelyn tried to push up, but blackness swam across her vision. Pain engulfed her chest, crushing it like a soda can, and then all sensation vanished.

  7

  The Wedding Night

  Warmth grazed her wet lips, and her lungs swelled with air.

  Evelyn rolled on her side as her chest heaved. Water came gushing out of her mouth. She gasped and sighed with relief as air filled her lungs.

  Where was she? Her vision was murky, as if she were still underwater. She tried to sit up, but her elbows threatened to buckle. Strong hands gripped her and guided her into a sitting position.

  She blinked until her vision cleared. Though his facial features were indistinct in the dark, he looked strangely like the King. “King Alaric?”

  He sat back, his forearms resting on his knees. “And I suppose I ought to call you Evelyn.”

  Her breath caught. “Duke Draven told you.”

  The King inclined his head. “He did.”

  What had happened? There was no one else there. Had the King been the one to nearly drown her, then revive her? It didn’t make sense. Unless…

  “Was that punishment?”

  “Punishment?”

  “For deceiving you.”

  Hurt flashed across his expression. “I wouldn’t try to drown you, Evelyn. The Duke told me of your true identity, and I was combing the gardens with my guards to confront you. Then I happened upon a cloaked figure drowning you. While my guards pursued your assailant, I pulled you from the fountain and revived you.”

  “Even after you knew I wasn’t your intended bride?”

  His green eyes sparked. “I wouldn’t have let you die, Evelyn.” He rolled onto his knees and lifted her into his arms. Though his shirt was lightly splattered with water, his chest emanated warmth.

  Evelyn tensed against the urge to nestle closer. He was being surprisingly gentle toward a woman who’d tricked him into marrying the wrong person, ruining his carefully laid plans and potentially humiliating him once her deceit was revealed. “You’re not going to let me go back, are you? You’re going to keep me here.”

  A shudder wracked her frame as she surrendered to the cold. Would she live out the rest of her life as his prisoner?

  He strode toward the edge of the garden, and she gripped two fistfuls of his shirt. He stepped onto the railing and, with a thrust of his wings, launched them both into the air.

  The wind licked the heat from her skin, but she was too mesmerized to care. She was flying. The feeling of gliding through the air made her feel breathless and dizzy, her heart whirling within her chest.

  She glanced at the King’s wings, the moonlight illuminating their deep green color. When they were folded, she hadn’t realized how large they were. From wingtip to wingtip, they were probably about eighteen feet long. The King began to descend, his wings changing position, and Evelyn caught her breath as she briefly became weightless.

  He flew along the palace wall before hovering over the balcony and landing. Even though she was freezing and someone had just tried to assassinate her, she was tempted to ask him to fly again. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right. The King landed lightly and strode through the right door, revealing it led to his room. That likely meant the left door led to her room.

  The King set her in front of the fireplace, and the warmth in the room eased the cold from her body. His room brought back memories of last night, washing away the exhilaration she’d felt during the flight. He knew who she was now. What would he do with her?

  He knelt next to her, and his arms loosened as he began to release her, but she tightened her grip on his shirt. “So are you going to trade me for my sister now?”

  “Your sister will remain on Earth.”

  She sucked in a breath, forcing her tightening lungs to expand. “You are keeping me here, then.”

  Guilt flickered in his gaze for only a moment before determination snuffed it out. “Yes, I am.”

  “But you need my sister, not me.”

  He gripped her hands and gently pried them off his shirt. “I needed a Hybrid bride. Your mother is Torvan and your father human, making you a Hybrid as well.”

  “But I need to go back to Earth.”

  He squeezed her fisted hands before she tore them away from him. “And I need a Hybrid queen.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have one who’s willing? If you take me, you’re going to regret it. I’m going to do everything I can to defy and escape you, so I can find my mother.”

  “Your mother?” His eyebrows rose. “I was under the impression she left your family.”

 
Something inside her cracked beneath the pressure of his words. Everyone kept saying that. Evelyn firmed her wobbling chin. “She did, but I’m going to find her anyway. We’re going to be a family again.” She clasped the empty locket, her fingers curling around the promise it held.

  He nodded, pity softening his gaze.

  Evelyn looked away. She didn’t want his pity. “Why me? Why not Kimberly?”

  “Several reasons. You’ve already been brought to Torva. I can’t trust that if you’re returned to Earth that you won’t speak of Torva’s existence.”

  “You’ve trusted my father not to say anything. And even if I did talk, I was drugged on the way here, and I don’t know anything about the portals’ locations or how to use them. People would think I’m crazy if I said anything.”

  His lips tightened, but he didn’t retort. “Secondly, you need my protection. I suspect whoever tried to drown you was a Scorpio. They’re targeting you, because you’re my queen.”

  “So if I weren’t your queen, they’d stop.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “You’re putting me in more danger by keeping me here.”

  He stood and snatched up the fire poker and stabbed a flaming log. “No. If you’re here, I’m better able to protect you.”

  “You could just send some guards to watch me.”

  “You’d still be safer within the palace.”

  She stood. “Given that someone just tried to drown me in the middle of my wedding, I highly doubt that.”

  He gave the fire a final jab before hanging the fire poker next to the mantle. “This discussion is over. My decision is final.”

  She stepped closer to him. “What’s the real reason you’re keeping me here?”

  Alarm streaked across his expression before he cleared it with a snort. “The real reason? I’ve already told you.”

  “I don’t think so. I get the feeling there’s something else you haven’t told me about.”

  Expressions rippled across his face: fear, guilt, tenderness. Her attention snagged on the last one.

  She knew his true reason—and she knew how to crumble it just like she had the previous two. “You care about me, don’t you?”

  Something inside her was tempted to soften at the realization, but she hardened herself instead. She couldn’t grow weak now; this could be her ticket home. “I want you to know one thing: I could never love you. You’ve torn me away from everything I’ve ever wanted and every time I see you, every time you touch me, I’ll always remember what you’ve taken from me.”

  Laughter burst from his lips, the sound so acrid it hurt to hear. “Love, Evelyn? Whoever said anything about love?” He picked up a piece of her red hair—she still wasn’t used to seeing it that color—and rubbed it between his fingers. “You truly think you’re so captivating I simply fell in love with you when I first laid eyes on you? You have seen the other Torvan women, haven’t you?”

  Embarrassment ignited in her chest. She had seen them—from their eighteen-inch waists to their unblemished features.

  “No, Evelyn. I’m only keeping you here for the sake of convenience. If you remain here, I obtain my legislative powers more quickly. Though you may eventually wish it to be otherwise, ours will never be a marriage of love.”

  Evelyn stood, frozen to the spot. Unlovable. She should have been used to being labeled such, yet it still cut deep every time. The chill suddenly returned to settle over her skin, her wet dress clinging to her body.

  He was a stranger, and his words shouldn’t have had the ability to hurt her. But between being forced to marry him, realizing she might not ever meet her mother, and someone trying to kill her, it was too much. She just wanted someone to hold her and kiss her forehead and tell her everything would be all right.

  His knuckles grazed her cheek, coming away glossy with her tears. He considered his wet fingers. “I’m sorry, Evelyn.”

  She shook her head, dislodging a few more tears. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  The King flinched but nodded. “I understand.” She moved away from him, only to stop when he clasped her shoulder. “Before you retire for the night, would you like me to unknot your gown?”

  Evelyn wanted to reject his help, but if she did, she’d spend what would already be a miserable night with a knotted ball of laces beneath her. She nodded.

  As he fumbled with the knot in the back, Evelyn pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. She was just tired; that was all. In the morning, she’d have her defenses built back up, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt her so easily.

  Her dress came undone, and then her nightgown slackened. Evelyn clasped the top to her chest and strode toward her room. If she tried to thank him, she feared her voice would crack.

  She closed the door shut and shed her wet dress and nightgown before slipping beneath the bed covers. As sobs clambered up her throat, the longing to be held and loved surged up once more.

  Before exhaustion overtook her, one question plagued her heart: would her mother find her as unlovable as everyone else had?

  Alaric remained standing where he was, listening as she cried herself to sleep. Knowing he was the source of her pain caused an ache to flare beneath his ribs.

  He was a coward.

  He did care for her. It had begun the moment he saw her sprawled across his bed and only strengthened when he’d felt the heat of her fiery spirit. She was plain, but her eyes were lovely—a brown so bright they bordered on gold. She was short, but there was something endearing about her size. She wasn’t slender, but the sloping curves below and above her waist weren’t without appeal.

  Somehow, he’d made the fatal mistake of coming to think of her as his, and he’d let himself care about her—just a little—but it was more than he’d cared about anyone since his mother had…

  Alaric clenched his jaw. It was best not to think on that.

  And his feelings for Evelyn had only grown stronger when he’d seen her drowning. He didn’t want to fail her like he had failed his mother. He wasn’t so foolish as to think he loved her, but he certainly cared for her.

  A ragged sigh tore air from his lungs as he pivoted toward the bed. Hang it. He should have guarded himself more carefully. Only pain came from such emotions. Alaric rolled back his covers and lay on the mattress, ignoring the emptiness on the other side of the bed. He’d been pretending the loneliness didn’t wear on him for decades. What were a few decades more?

  Perhaps this distance between them was for the best. It hurt for the moment, but over time, it would protect both of them from being further hurt by each other.

  8

  A Potential Ally

  Unwelcome light flooded the room. “Rise and shi-ine!”

  Evelyn moaned and pressed her face more deeply into the pillow. She distinctly remembered her alarm clock being less annoying than this.

  “I know you had a long, romantic night—”

  “Zinnia!”

  “—but now it’s time to get up!”

  The singsong accent tickled her ears. Torvan. They were speaking Torvan. She couldn’t still be here. Last night had to have been a crazy nightmare. This wasn’t a new world, she wasn’t half of a fantasy race, and she definitely wasn’t married to a king. And of course, she couldn’t forget the fact that someone had tried to kill her.

  She forced her eyes and mind open, embracing her new reality. The sooner she accepted this was her situation for the time being, the sooner she could focus on escape.

  Windows streaked down the side of the wall, from top to bottom, each as wide as her arm span. Black leaves and flowers curled over the blue wallpaper. A rug sprawled in front of the fireplace, in front of which were two upholstered chairs and an oval coffee table. An elegant hourglass stood on the mantle, sandwiched between two empty blown glass vases. Though the room was grand, the decor seemed sparse and impersonal, except for those lovely vases.

  With a blink of her eyes, Evelyn retreated within herself and appeared in her Room.
After a cursory glance, she set a vase on the end table—to replace the flowers that’d previously been there and to commemorate her time in Torva. Not that it’d been particularly pleasant, but it was significant now. A part of who she was.

  Beyond her Room, a fairy muttered, “Her eyes are open, but she’s not moving… Is she dead? Should we poke her?”

  “Maybe that’s normal for humans.”

  Another blink, and she left her Room. Evelyn sat up and rolled the stiffness out of her shoulders—only to clasp the sheet to her chest when she realized she only wore her underclothes. She’d shed her wet garments before going to bed. At least the King hadn’t woken her up.

  Zinnia waggled her eyebrows, and Evelyn didn’t bother correcting her insinuation.

  Clover tugged at Evelyn’s sleeve. “Come now, Your Majesty. The King wishes to give you a tour of the palace.”

  “And we can’t have you looking like an unearthed corpse.”

  Clover speared Zinnia with a glare. “What she means to say, Your Majesty, is that we are here to make you more beautiful than you already are.”

  Zinnia crinkled her nose. “Boot kisser.”

  Camellia hovered in the background, her rose petal dress fluttering. Her eyes were glazed as if she were somewhere else.

  Evelyn smiled. “Good morning, Camellia.”

  Camellia startled and dipped a few inches before zipping back up to eye-level. “Oh. Good morn.”

  Evelyn swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt as dazed as Camellia looked. She’d need a caffeine boost if she were going to make it through the day. “Do you guys have any coffee?”

  Clover tilted her head, and her chestnut braid dangled to the side. “Cough what?”

  Oh. Yeah. Different world. Evelyn released a ragged sigh. “Never mind.”

  “If you’re hungry, we can order a tray of food.”

  “Sure.” She slipped out of bed and allowed the fairies to dress her. She had to conserve her energy for her escape. She probably wouldn’t get an opportunity to do so, but she could at least be on the lookout for something that might be of use—perhaps a secret passage?