A Lost Princess (Belles & Bullets Book 2)

by Caylen McQueen

  Kitt was relieved when a mustached blonde man asked, “What's The Pit?” She was dying to know the answer herself.

  “Ah, Major Whelks! I forgot you weren't with us when we had The Pit in Lundun!” As Rory spoke, his hand glided along Kitt's back. It would have been horrible enough to have him touching her, but she was fairly certain Doon could see it from his vantage point. She hated to think he was watching her get fondled by his nemesis. “It's a way for me to punish my enemies. I pit them against each other. I force them to fight to the death. Everyone is entertained by it, and it benefits me too. I don't really have the resources to keep my prisoners fed, so making them kill each other is actually humane, and it gets them off my hands.”

  Kitt nearly choked on her corn. If Doon would be forced to fight to the death, it suddenly seemed much more urgent to free him.

  “You're excited about that, aren't you, Doon-Doon?” Rory asked as he ruffled Doon's hair. “You get to prove you're the biggest, baddest boy around.”

  Doon wasn't glaring at Rory anymore, he just looked puzzled. Rory's fetish with giving him pet names and treating him like a dog was perplexing, to say the least.

  “And,” Rory continued, “if you're the last man standing, it gets even better! The winner will be released.”

  That news brought a tiny smirk to Doon's lips. He hoped it was true, because freeing him was the absolute dumbest thing Rory McCray could possibly do. Doon had already failed at one assassination attempt. He wouldn't fail again.

  “Well, it certainly sounds amusing!” exclaimed the man named Major Whelks. “I look forward to seeing the spectacle.”

  “You'll love it, I'm sure. Everyone loves it. I've set up a makeshift arena on the outskirts of town. It's even better than the one in Lundun. You'll be impressed!” When he finished speaking to Major Whelks, Rory picked up a chicken leg and turned his attention back to Doon. “Do you want this?” he asked the pirate.

  He waggled the chicken leg in front of Doon, who slowly shook his head.

  “Ohh. Come on, now! I know you want this!” Rory insisted. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you're starving for it.”

  “I want it,” grumbled Doon, who assumed he didn't have another choice.

  “Very good!” Rory cheered. “Now I want you to beg for it. Grovel for it. Whimper. Show me how much you want it.” When Doon didn't say anything, Rory didn't look pleased. “Say, Master Rory, I really really want that chicken!”

  “Master... Rory...” When Doon spoke up, several of the onlookers chuckled. “I really... really want that chicken.”

  “Good. Now eat it out of my hand. And be careful not to bite my fingers, love.”

  When Doon leaned forward to nibble the chicken leg, he growled in anger. It was a feral noise that rattled Doon's throat, and Rory looked even more pleased when he heard it. After Doon took two bites of the chicken, Rory pitched the chicken leg to the far end of the room. “You can fetch it if you want it,” Rory said, and when Doon didn't move, he added, “No? You want to stay by your master's feet? You're so loyal!”

  At the dinner's end, a man named Major Dunmoore spoke up. “The quality of the food was excellent, McCray! And the entertainment?” Dunmoore gripped his full, sizable stomach as he chortled at Doon. “The entertainment really exceeded my expectations.”

  “I'm glad you enjoyed it, Major.”

  “I mean really... Captain Francis Doon? He's notorious. You must've been pretty proud of yourself when you captured such a prize.”

  “Indeed, Dunmoore, indeed. I'm constantly impressed with myself for having gotten the better of him. And now... why don't us men retire to the drawing room for a smoke?” To Kitt, he added, “Lyneah? You're dismissed. You're free to do whatever it is that ladies do after a meal.”

  “Dismissed...” Kitt whispered the word as she watched Rory and the rest of the men trickle through the doorway. Was he actually telling her she was allowed to go? Kitt was never particularly fond of Prince Malik, but Lyneah's other fiance was a veritable angel in comparison to Rory.

  Doon was left behind with the two guards who brought him in. When they moved forward, ready to take Doon back to his cell, Kitt leapt in their path. “Might I have a word with Captain Doon for a moment?” she asked the question as sweetly as she could. “Please?”

  “Aye, Princess,” the larger of the two guards agreed. “But we'll be standing o'er here by the door, watchin.”

  “I understand.” Kitt watched them move to the door, waiting until they were at a comfortable distance before she knelt on the floor with Doon. “Are you alright?” she whispered.

  “Oh, sure. I'm swell.” Doon managed to sound as indifferent and nonchalant as ever. Kitt didn't know if she was relieved or frustrated to see him act so casual.

  Keeping her voice low, she said, “It kills me to see you like this.”

  “And did it ever occur to you that it kills me to let you see me like this, which is why I tried to send you away?” Doon snorted softly. “I should have known you wouldn't listen to me.”

  “So... it bothers you?” Kitt asked.

  “No! I just love for you to see me ridiculed and humiliated. It makes me very happy, actually.” Doon rolled his eyes at her question. “And Kitten... you're going to get yourself in trouble by talking to me so often. What if Rory returned? He's going to think you have an unusual obsession with me.” Doon paused to chuckle. “Well... you do have an unusual obsession with me, truth be told, but we wouldn't want him to think the same was true of the princess.”

  “I have an obsession with you?” It was Kitt's turn to roll her eyes at him. She couldn't believe he was trying to goad her, even when he was tied up and chained. “Honestly? I'm here because I want to help you! I wish you wouldn't tease me so often.”

  “And you plan to help me... how, exactly?” Doon whispered the question. When he glanced at the guards, he was glad to see them engrossed in a conversation of their own.

  “I'm not sure yet. I was thinking I could have Miles pick your locks...”

  “And you would do that... how?” Doon waited for her answer, and when she didn't give one, he continued. “You'd probably get yourself killed as soon as you tried to sneak him into the shed. Or you'd get Miles killed. I don't want either of you to take any unnecessary risks on my behalf.”

  “I'd say it's a necessary risk, Doon. You could die!”

  He shrugged at that. “Better me than you.”

  “Maybe we could... find your crew?” Kitt suggested. “With all of your men working together, we could--”

  “I don't want anyone taking risks on my behalf, do you understand?” Doon interrupted her. “I got myself into this horrid situation, and I'll get myself out of it. I always do.” Doon saw the unmistakable shimmer of tears in her eyes, so he softened his tone. “Kitt... don't be upset. It'll be alright, I promise.”

  “But how can you really be sure?” When a tear suddenly slipped from her eye, she crushed it before he could see it. “Honestly... what if you die?”

  “From what I can understand, McCray's going to put a sword in my hand and give me a chance to win a tournament. It's the stupidest thing he could do, to be honest. If there's one thing I can do properly, it's fight. Give me a nail, and I'll turn it into a deadly weapon. Give me a stick, and I'll whittle it down and fight a hundred men with it!”

  “Well, you certainly don't lack for confidence,” Kitt said with a sigh. “You never have, have you? But I just can't shake the feeling that I'll be witnessing your death tomorrow. I should try to do something to help.”

  “Then... if you really want to help, make sure you're there tomorrow. Attend Rory's little tournament,” Doon suggested. “If I know you're there, if I know you're watching, I'll fight even harder for you.”

  Kitt clasped a hand to her heart. For Doon, it was actually a sentimental statement. “Really?”

  He nodded. “And by the way, you never properly admonished me for dumping you at the castle. I was a real ass for that. I keep wai
ting for you to yell at me, but you never do.”

  “I could never yell at you right now.” A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Kitt's lips. “Later, maybe, but not right now.”

  “Then I will await your rage with bated breath. You better not disappoint me!”

  When she saw Doon smiling back at her, Kitt wanted to throw her arms around him. Unfortunately, the guards at the door were an ever-present deterrent.

  “I care about you, Doon,” Kitt admitted. “I don't know why, but I do. Please don't die.”

  Doon wondered if she had taken a moment to consider what his survival actually meant. Every fight would be a fight to the death. Every time he won a match, someone else would die. A better person might have balked at the idea of killing others to save himself, but not Doon. His entire life had been a fight to the death.

  “Oi!” One of the guards suddenly shouted. When he had their attention, he marched over to Doon and lifted him from the floor. “Your Highness, you got better things to do than listen to this lout, don't ya? I'm talking 'im back to his cell.”

  Doon didn't fight; he allowed himself to be dragged away. Kitt watched him as long as she could, until he disappeared through the doorway and around the corner.

  “Please...” she whispered to herself. “Please please please don't let that be the last time I ever talk to him.”

  21

  “Sit with me!” Kieran called to Lyneah when he saw her walking past him. She paused a moment, trying to decide if it was a good idea. “Come on! Don't be shy. I've missed you, Princess. I haven't spoken to you in ages.”

  “You haven't spoken to me in a day,” Lyneah corrected him as she reluctantly joined him in the stands. “I wouldn't call that ages.”

  Lyneah and Kieran were part of an immense crowd that had gathered in the arena for Rory's reopening of “The Pit.” Being close to Rory had its perks: his fiance and brother were given the very best seats, front and center. However, Lyneah wouldn't have minded being stuck in the back. She wasn't thrilled to see blood spilling because her fiance demanded it.

  “You look lovely today. More lovely than usual, I'd say,” Kieran told her. “It's a shame I don't have an army to command. If I did, maybe I could've had a gorgeous fiance like you.”

  When Lyneah turned in Kieran's direction, her eyebrow was raised. “Have you been drinking, Kieran?”

  “Aye.” As if to further prove his level of inebriation, Kieran wrapped an arm around Lyneah's back and pulled her closer. “I started drinking before noon. I like to get an early start.”

  “Should I be impressed?” When she tried to scoot away from Kieran's encompassing arm, he tightened his grip on her.

  “Of course you should be impressed! Drinking is the only thing I do well,” Kieran said. “Well... drinking and brawling.”

  “Brawling, huh?” Lyneah shook her head at that. “Then maybe you should participate in the tournament today, Kieran.”

  “I would... if nine out of ten contenders weren't going to die. I'd rather not lose my head today, thanks.”

  The sound of a dozen trumpets pierced the sky, heralding the arrival of Rory McCray. When Lyneah saw at least a hundred men rise from their seats to salute him, she was simultaneously impressed and terrified. Rory was just a common man, and yet he managed to amass a staggering amount of support. She was surprised by how far he had risen by relying solely on his wits and charisma.

  “Get your bloody arm off my fiance before I break it!” Rory yelled at his brother as he approached. When Kieran's arm didn't budge, he added, “I'm not lying to you, Kieran. I will literally split you in half.”

  Kieran grumbled as his arm slipped away from Lyneah's back. When Rory sat on the other side of her, she suddenly felt uneasy. She was sandwiched between McCrays, and it was far from comfortable. For at least the twentieth time that day, Lyneah wished Tobey was with her.

  “Is it true?” Lyneah asked her fiance. “Are you going to let the winner of this tournament walk free?”

  “Yes. That's the plan.” Now that his brother no longer had his paws on her, Rory's own arm curled around Lyneah's shoulders.

  “What if Francis Doon is the winner?” she asked. “Doesn't that frighten you? I imagine he'll have quite the vendetta against you.”

  “Darling, every one of these men has a vendetta against me. They're all my enemies... that's why I'm forcing them to kill each other. It saves me the trouble of killing them myself.” Rory suddenly nuzzled his face against her neck, breathing her in. “If they know they'll be released at the end, they'll be more motivated to fight, and the action will be more riveting because of it. One freed prisoner won't cause me a great deal of strife. I'll be well-guarded, I promise.”

  On the opposite end of the arena, Kitt was sitting between Roderick and Miles. Kitt's hood was pulled firmly over her head; she didn't want to be recognized as the princess, after all. Miles looked nervous, Roderick looked bored, and Kitt was a wreck. Even before the first match began, her stomach was churning, her palms were sweating, and her heart was frantic.

  “I hate this,” Roderick murmured. “We're really watching people die today... and yet all these spectators look thrilled to be here? I didn't realize humanity had fallen this far.”

  “I've seen the worst of humanity, Sir Roderick, believe me!” Miles exclaimed. “These people? They're quite normal, unfortunately.”

  Kitt couldn't think of anything to say to either of them. She was too busy trying to suppress the urge to retch.

  Before the tournament commenced, Rory McCray rose from his seat to address the crowd. “Thank you all for gathering today. It is a great honor that you have all agreed to join me, and to support me. I know you share my hopes for the future, and one day soon, I hope to see that future realized. Please know I appreciate each and every one of you. As for those who oppose me, you will see what happens to them.” A smile curled onto his lips when he looked down at Lyneah. “I have decided to hold this tournament in honor of my fiance, the lovely Princess Lyneah. With her at my side, we will be unstoppable. With her at my side--”

  Roderick stopped listening to Rory's speech and whirled in Kitt's direction. “Fiance? Lyneah is Rory's fiance? And she's here in Dovyr?”

  Kitt's nod was delayed by a few seconds of hesitation. “Yes...”

  “Why do you not sound surprised? Did you know?” When Kitt nodded again, Roderick dragged his hands through his hair and whimpered. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “I... didn't want to make you upset.”

  “But you must have known I would find out eventually, yes? It upsets me more that you hid the truth.” Roderick folded his arms over his chest and sighed. “I wish you would have told me, Kitt. I'm learning the truth in the worst possible way.”

  “I'm sorry, Roderick.” Kitt found it difficult to pity him while she was worried about Doon. “I'm really sorry.”

  “You don't have to apologize. I'm not blaming you.” Roderick violently rubbed his temples, as if he could magically rub away his stress. “I'm just... sad. She runs away, and now I find out she has a new fiance? Every day, I find out Lyneah is no longer the person I thought her to be.”

  The crowd erupted with a collective cheer as the first two contenders entered the arena. Kitt was glad that neither of them was Doon. One of them was a proud-looking older man with snow-colored hair. When he was introduced as “Sir Bowen Rivane,” Roderick's face was lit with recollection.

  “Sir Bowen!” he exclaimed. “I know him! Nearly ten years ago, he was Queen Loreina's head knight.”

  “Ten years is a long time,” Miles said. “But apparently, his ties to Loreina are strong enough to make him an enemy of Rory McCray. That poor man is nearly as old as me! I'm afraid he's not going to last.”

  When that “poor man” easily carved his way through his first opponent, Miles was forced to eat his words. He was clearly a man of skill, which had Kitt feeling more nervous than ever.

  However, Doon was far from nervous. In fact, he w
as barely paying attention to the matches, since he preferred to be surprised. He shared his holding area with another man: a small, short man with wiry white hair and a pallor to match. Doon didn't know if the little man was always so pale, or if the fear of death had drained the color from his cheeks.

  “Oh no no no no no!” As he paced in front of Doon, the pale man was a bit bow-legged. “Zounds! This is bad. I don't want to die like this. I did not want to die like this! Do you know who I am? I'm Heigal! I'm the queen's top engineer!”

  Doon didn't say a word. He just watched the man pace and silently wished for a cigarette. Heigal didn't get too close to him—he must have thought Doon looked dangerous. And he wasn't wrong.

  Heigal might have been put off by Doon's attire—or lack thereof. He wore black breeches, a dirty gray top hat, and no shirt. Rory had kindly returned Doon's coat and hat before the tournament, but the coat felt unpleasant against his injured back, so he opted to wear just the hat. With all his scars and gashes exposed, Doon looked even more intimidating than usual.

  Despite his white hair, Heigal had a relatively youthful face, but it was marred by a deep worry wrinkle in the middle of his forehead. “W-well, to be fair, I haven't worked for the queen in years... but do you know how many scientific breakthroughs were made because of me?” As Heigal boasted, Doon yawned. “I made so many breakthroughs in steam engines, bioengineering, cloning and chemistry. Science has progressed by leaps and bounds because of me. I should have medals and trophies. I should not be disgraced like this!” When Sir Bowen cut down his second opponent with ease, Heigal shrieked. “Ohhh zounds!”

  “Can you please stop squawking?” Doon finally grunted at him. “I'm trying to relax.”

  “Relax? Relax? How could anyone but a madman relax at a time like this?”

  “You're right.” Doon grinned at Heigal, then he casually glanced down at his fingernails. “I am a madman.” He slowly whispered the word, ensuring his companion would be thoroughly chilled by the claim.

  The scientist's worry line deepened as he sidled away from Doon. But he didn't have time to be afraid, because Bowen had mowed down his third opponent, which meant it was Heigal's turn. When he didn't show up when they called his name, one of Rory's men was forced to drag him out.