Captive and Crowned

by Elizabeth Newsom

  Evelyn hoisted herself up on the stubby wall, which acted as a guardrail between the walkway and the moat, and continued running.

  To the side, the moat roared furiously, as fast flowing as the King had claimed. Evelyn kept her gaze ahead, away from the frothing water. Unfortunately, a fall would prove fatal. She’d have to be careful to keep her balance.

  Someone grunted a few feet back before footsteps thudded behind her. Instead of gaining distance between her and them, the short climb up the wall had probably made her lose distance. She pushed herself harder, thrusting forward with everything she had.

  Her foot hit a slick stone, causing her to veer dangerously close to the moat.

  Her arms swung wildly for a moment before she tipped over the side. Air whipped past her, as a scream stuck in her throat. Her heart beat with a panicked frenzy. The water beneath her churned, flinging spittle at her skin.

  Something slammed into her side with the force of a hurricane, and her fall jerked to a stop as she glided above the waters. She glanced up. Alaric peered down at her.

  His wings stretched out to the sides, light shining through the webbing. With a few powerful flaps, he propelled them upward until they were above the wall. The thrill of flying made her heart tumble beneath her ribs.

  Evelyn’s breath caught as the buildings beneath them shrunk into lopsided squares within the octagon-shaped walls. She curled her arms around his neck and finally gathered the courage to meet his eyes.

  His gaze knifed through her as he stared back in silence. His eyes were dark with hurt, betrayal, and disappointment. It was the same way he’d looked at her when he’d realized she’d poisoned him. Finally, he glanced up.

  She tried to return her attention to the sensations of flying, but that one glance at Alaric had sapped all the excitement from it. Last night, he’d taken the blame for her betrayal. This time, she doubted he’d be so merciful. Fear burrowed through her, carving out a painful hollowness within her chest.

  Should she apologize? Was Draven captured? Should she try and make an excuse for why she’d ventured into the city unescorted?

  The rushing air around them slowed as Alaric straightened in the air. With a few controlled flaps, he lowered them until her feet touched the palace balcony.

  Before she could say anything, his wings snapped back open, and he took off, leaving her on the balcony. Alone.

  She perched on the edge of Alaric’s bed, dressed in her nightgown. At first, she’d tried the door to her room, but it’d been locked. Then she’d wandered into the King’s room and found a nightgown laid out for her. Someone had set a basin of water, a rag, and a tray of food on his desk.

  She’d made good use of the rag and basin, turning its waters dark with ink and dirt and returning her hair to its false red color, but her stomach twisted at the thought of food. She wanted to find out what had happened, how she’d been caught, but there was no one to answer her questions. All the doors connecting Alaric’s room to hers or to the hallway had been locked.

  She slid off the bed and began pacing. When the King returned, what should she do? Play dumb? Try to play off the escape as something else? Tell the truth? Would she be interrogated? Tortured?

  She stopped and surveyed the King’s lavish room. Surely if she were to be tortured, he would have placed her in the dungeons. Or maybe he planned to torture her privately himself.

  She hugged herself, suppressing a shiver. Though the King was icy at times, surely he wasn’t capable of such brutality. But then again, he’d had no qualms about torturing mere smugglers. Why would he have mercy on her? She’d just committed treason.

  She swallowed tightly. If only she still had her phone and some earbuds with her. Music always helped her think.

  The balcony door swung open, and Alaric strode in.

  She pressed a hand to her chest to stifle the thick thudding of her heart. Should she run? Hide? Explain? Lie?

  He paused at the sight of her and glanced out the darkened window. “It’s late.”

  Tension stretched the silence taut until she cleared her throat. “And?”

  “Why aren’t you abed?” His jaw muscles tightened. “After today’s escapade, I thought you would have been tired.”

  She forced a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

  They both stood there, waiting for the other to move first. Everything had been so clear before the escape, but now she had no idea where she stood with him. What would he do with her?

  She finally shifted her gaze away from his. “Am I your queen or your prisoner?”

  “Both.”

  Unease knotted in her stomach. “What does that mean?”

  “You will be queen, because you will serve my purposes and those of the kingdom. You will be a prisoner, because you no longer have any say in the matter.”

  She tightened her arms around her waist. “Did I ever?”

  “Though it was limited, you had freedom. You were given roam of the palace and allowed to interact with nobles. Now, your roaming will be confined to this room, and your interactions will be limited to me.” A beat of silence between them, and then he added, “You will be given no other opportunities to escape.”

  A chill trickled down her chest. She would spend the rest of her days wilting away in this room, giving the King all the children and power he could desire. And she’d never meet her mother. She’d leave this world as unloved as when she’d entered it.

  She plastered on her bravest face, hoping the King wouldn’t see the maelstrom of emotions raging underneath. “So what happened?”

  The King strode to a chair in front of the fireplace before lowering his massive frame into its cushions, exhaustion tugging at his shoulders. “You wish to know about Duke Draven.”

  She clenched her jaw lest it drop open. How much did he know?

  “He’s in the lowest level of the dungeons, and more alive than he deserves to be.”

  Her heart surged. More alive than he deserved to be? Was he half-dead? The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. There was no need to arouse the King’s ire further by asking about Draven. She’d discover sooner or later. “How did you find me? How did you find him?”

  “I arrived at your room just after the sun had risen. Neither you nor the guards were within.”

  She cringed. So he knew about the mercenaries.

  “Thankfully,” he continued, “they hadn’t gotten far. After some persuasion, they revealed your escape and the Duke’s involvement. I assigned knights to shadow him, and as soon as he tried to slip through the passage disguised as a commoner, they captured him. He was unwilling to reveal your location, so I ordered knights to comb the city, especially near the gates.” His smile was hollow and cold, chilling her to the bone. “Satisfied, Your Highness?”

  She folded her arms over her chest, shielding herself from the ice in his gaze. “You should’ve let me escape.”

  He nodded, emerald eyes frosty, and his smile melted. “I agree.”

  She jerked backward, as if she’d been slapped by a gust of frigid wind. Silly, silly, stupid girl. He was agreeing with her—this was a good thing. Maybe next time she escaped, he’d let her.

  But she hadn’t wanted his agreement. She wanted an explanation for why he hadn’t let her run off, because maybe he… He what? He cared? Her eyes would have started watering, but her tear ducts seemed to have been frozen by the blizzard raging within her chest.

  She whirled toward her room, only to remember the door was locked. She altered her course and clambered up onto his bed, smothering her face with a pillow just as her tear ducts thawed.

  Two Weeks Later

  Despite living in the same room, both the King and Evelyn managed to avoid each other. An entire day could pass without them saying a word to one another.

  Though Evelyn would never admit it, their prolonged silences and icy interactions made her ache with loneliness, though she’d never spent so much time in one person’s presence. But at least thing
s had been getting better.

  A week ago, he’d allowed the fairies to come and keep her company or arrange her hair—though she saw little point, since she was confined to his room. Four days ago, he’d allowed her to walk in the gardens—with four guards. Yesterday, he’d even told her to have a good day before marching off to one of his tedious Council meetings. However, this morning he’d been even frostier than usual, strangely enough.

  Evelyn pressed her hand to the window, and chilling prickles rippled over her palm. She’d turned the situation over and over in her head, trying to find a way to salvage it.

  She could try to free Draven or escape. But if she did that, then she’d destroy the King’s fragile trust once more, and he would restrict her freedoms further. Though the thought made her sick, she might have to put her plans on hold for a few years. In the meantime, she’d not only have to act like a good queen; she’d have to actually be one.

  Even so, thinking about Draven still made her chest tighten with worry. Was he all right? In Torva, torturing prisoners was considered acceptable. Had Alaric allowed Draven to be tortured? Even if he wasn’t being tortured, there were a host of things that could happen to him. He could be starving. Or sick.

  Though she feared for Draven, thinking about him didn’t have the same emotional pull on her as it once had. These past two weeks had given her time to think—and more importantly, a bit of distance between herself and him. Including her confinement to Alaric’s room, she’d known him for a little over a month, and their whirlwind romance seemed a bit rushed.

  Sometimes, she feared that her emotions for him hadn’t been aroused so much by love as by loneliness and insecurity. And an even more disconcerting issue was the Duke himself: she still hadn’t the faintest idea as to why he’d been willing to risk so much to help her. Perhaps he’d pitied her or had truly cared for her, but she doubted those were the only factors.

  The door swung open behind her, and she turned. The King stood in the doorway, his gaze locked on her.

  His hair was dry, which was unusual. Oftentimes, when he returned to the room, his hair was damp from a recent bath, hinting at his need for order and cleanliness. If he’d forgone his bath today, that meant he’d been in a hurry to return to her. But what for?

  She smoothed her nightgown. “You’re back early.”

  He shut the door behind him and strode to her. “Evelyn.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been unable to convince the Council of your Hybrid blood.”

  “…okay.”

  He knelt by her, so he was slightly lower than eye level. “You remember your first management meeting?”

  She rubbed her suddenly chilled arms. Whatever he was trying to break to her, he was trying to do it gently. Which meant that he had pretty bad news. “Yeah.”

  “If you’ll recall, Duke Rin described a medical exam that would be necessary if the Council needed proof of your Hybrid blood.”

  Her heart kicked against her chest. “So I’ll have to take that test?”

  He nodded.

  Evelyn leaned against the windowsill, her head light. She should have seen this coming. After all, there was no way the King would let a bit of her discomfort obstruct the attainment of his legislative powers. “When?”

  “Now.”

  She huffed. “You could have at least given me a warning.”

  “I was trying to convince them to do otherwise until the very last minute, Evelyn.” His jaw tensed. “But, for what it’s worth, I am sorry. I know this won’t be comfortable.”

  She massaged her forehead with her palm. “It’s okay. I get it. At least let me get dressed.” She crossed the room and opened the wardrobe. Most of it was taken up by her dresses, and a tiny sliver by Alaric’s clothes. She flipped through a few dresses. What would a queen wear to a medical exam?

  “The clothing doesn’t matter, Evelyn. He’ll need you to disrobe for certain parts of the examination anyhow.”

  She whipped around. “He?”

  The King nodded. “The physician is male.”

  “There’s no way I could be examined by a woman?”

  “All of the nobles have male physicians, except for me. And they won’t allow the Healer, my healer, to perform an examination, because she’s loyal to me and they fear she might be biased and misrepresent the truth.”

  Great. An invasive examination performed by a guy. She pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping it would keep down her meager breakfast.

  “Evelyn, are you well?” The King stepped closer. “If you would like me to be present—”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” Just thinking of having the King watch her made her skin heat. The fewer people who had to witness her examination, the better.

  “Very well.” The King strode toward the door. “Change quickly. I’ll wait outside.”

  The King opened the doors to the Council room for her. It was one of the many rooms Evelyn had never been in before.

  The room was filled with rows upon rows of tables and chairs, encircling a throne on a dais. She tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. Lux stones beamed down from above, spotting her vision with their glare, and she glanced back down. The walls were made of black marble, and even though the nobles kept their tones low as they conversed, their voices echoed throughout the room.

  If Draven hadn’t helped her, he’d likely be here today among the nobles. Evelyn ignored the pinch of guilt, reminding herself that she wasn’t in a position to help Draven.

  “King Alaric.” A man approached, his thick robe encumbering his feet as he walked. “And Queen Evelyn. So good of you to join us.” He stopped and offered them a deep bow.

  The King nodded. “Thank you, Marquess Maqua.” He nudged her, and Evelyn dipped her head as well.

  The Marquess clapped. “Finally, finally. An opportunity to fix all of this controversy.”

  More noblemen stood behind the Marquess, a few seated at a table, others standing and chatting. The King set his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the other men.

  Some were cordial, but others seemed patronizing or ignored her entirely. When the King had greeted everyone, he led her onto the dais. She meshed her fingers together before clasping her hands to keep from fidgeting. The Council members quickly wove around the tables to seat themselves.

  The King set a hand on her shoulder. “I present the Queen to the Council of the United Countries of Torva for the purpose of proving her Hybrid blood through a medical examination, performed by Physician Calen, loyal to Lord Amatri of Cade.” King Alaric gestured to a man who stood to the side of the dais.

  The Physician wore a long brown robe, hemmed in red thread. Beneath his cowl, his eyes glittered, fixed on Evelyn, and his spindly fingers tapped against each other. His stare was oddly cold and impersonal, as if he were studying a prized racing horse rather than a person.

  “After the examination, the Physician will present the results to the Council.”

  The King nudged her forward, and she stumbled down the stairs of the dais to stand before the Physician. She hoped the Council couldn’t see how her entire body quivered.

  The Physician turned, his robes billowing at his feet, and strode to the side of the Council room, toward a small door. He opened the door and left it lolling open behind him. After she entered, he slammed it shut behind her and slid a metal latch into place.

  She folded her arms and shivered harder. Cold air seemed to waft from the very stones in the room. There were two tables, both draped in cloth, and one hardback wooden chair. Torchlight flickered against the walls.

  “Why are there torches here instead of Lux stones?” she asked.

  The Physician withdrew a pouch from the folds of his robe and dumped its contents onto one of the tables. Then he began straightening and sorting them. Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to answer her question. With a papery crackle, he unwrapped a few Torvan foods.

  Then he turned to her. “Disrobe.”

&n
bsp; Evelyn plucked at the collar of her dress. “Is that really necessary? I mean, couldn’t you just use Manasseh and see if I’m immune to it?”

  The Physician’s gaze shot to her. “Manasseh? It’s highly rare. And your immunity would only prove that you’re a human, not that you’re part Torvan.” He stared at her for five heartbeats before stepping toward her. “If you’re incapable of undressing, I can assist you.”

  A soft, underlying threat chilled his words. She swallowed. “But… you’re a male.”

  His twig-thin eyebrows arched. “Yes. You think I’d be even remotely tempted by the sight of your body?”

  Heat bathed her face.

  “I would not. Your proportions are alien enough that I would have to be a very sick man to do so.” He shook his head, causing the loose fabric of his cowl to wag. “Now more than ever, I admire the King for the sacrifices he makes on behalf of Torva.”

  Despite the embarrassment coiling in her chest, she straightened. “If you admire the King, then you’d do well to respect his queen. I won’t tolerate you speaking or treating me with derision, especially if you’re to perform an examination.”

  He snorted. “You’re just as much a prisoner here as the criminals in the dungeons. Everyone here knows it to be so. You have little say in this matter.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Oh, really?” She marched toward the door. Alaric would hear her out; he wouldn’t let this psycho touch her.

  “I wouldn’t go back out there were I you.”

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “They’ve argued over your origins for weeks. If you were to leave this room, refusing to be examined by me, who knows how long it would take to find another Physician approved by the Council?”

  “So?”

  “If it appeared you were refusing to submit to the Council, likely a few nobles would band together to create a civil war.”

  Evelyn snorted. “A war? All because I want another Physician? I doubt it.”