“You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” His voice was low and soft, melting her heart. She would give anything to go back to the start, to the place where Drake wasn’t her kidnapper. She glanced at his smooth face, reaching up to touch his cut lip. “You’re bleeding.”
Drake flinched like her touch had been painful. He stood, walking to the bucket of fresh water, and grabbed a cloth, moistening it. Then he dabbed the wet corner across his split lip.
“Let me help.” Myka walked to him, taking the towel from his hand. His body turned to her, and her heart sped up. Feelings were churning inside of her, begging to be let loose. Myka had always wanted to feel this way—all twisted up inside because of a man—but this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with a man whom she hated.
His brown eyes dropped to hers. There was a magical quality in Drake’s gaze that could make a woman fall instantly in love with him while also making her feel like he was annoyed with her. So really, his gaze was more confusing than magical.
She slowly moved her fingers to the side of his cheek, holding his face steady as she rubbed his lip where the cut was. Drake’s body stiffened at her touch, and she could have sworn his breath hitched. His skin was soft and the moment reminded her of when they had first met, when she had tended to his gunshot wound. Things had felt different between them then. They had been light and airy. Free and uncomplicated. Now, everything was difficult and messy and charged with even more attraction.
She held his face in her hands, moving the washcloth back and forth, taking her time.
Drake’s jaw flexed and tightened under her fingers. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down from his face. His expression was unreadable, and his voice was barely a whisper, raspy and deep. “I think that’s good enough.”
They stood like statues, his hands on her wrists and her gaze on his handsome face. She didn’t want the moment to end. His brown eyes seemed so inviting, and all Myka wanted to do was sit there and stare at him like she was in some kind of staring contest that she didn’t know the meaning of.
Blink, she had to remind herself. It’s weird if you don’t blink.
He cleared his throat, turning away, and suddenly the moment was ruined.
She took off her jacket and slung it over the back of the chair, trying not to be disappointed.
“Don’t judge every man based on Dawsick,” he said behind her. “Not everyone is like that.”
“I know.” Myka bit her lip. “You’re not like that.”
Drake sat on the edge of the cot, removing his shoes. Myka stood by the chair, using it as a support.
“Did you mean what you said? Will you kill Dawsick if he touches me again?”
“Probably.” His eyes were hard, and his expression was serious.
They were talking about killing someone, but his hard expression and the way he wanted to protect her felt very romantic.
Kidnapping and romance—what was happening to her?
21
Drake
The next morning, Drake sat silently, eating his breakfast, listening to the crackling fire and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. He glanced up at Dawsick and the blue bruise tinting his jaw. His nails dug into the palm of his hand. What if he hadn’t gotten to Myka in time? Drake’s mind couldn’t even go there.
The humming sound of a personal transporter filled the camp and everyone turned their heads behind them. It was Kase. He was finally back from Tolsten House. Myka’s blue eyes darted to him. A thousand question lingered behind her gaze—questions that Drake didn’t have the answers to.
Kase slowed the machine to a stop, and the other men stood, walking to greet him. Drake nodded at Myka as he followed after them out of her earshot. The nod was stupid and subtle but it was the best he could do to reassure her.
“That took forever,” Kase said, shaking the helmet off his head.
“Did you get a response?” Winslow asked.
Kase huffed, lifting his lips into a smile. “I got two.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you got two?”
“I got a response from the king, and…” Kase paused like he was trying to add suspense to his words, “…a response from Commander Stoddard.”
“Why would Commander Stoddard reply?” Portlend asked.
Kase pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. “Both replies were in the same letter. The one from the king says that he isn’t going to give up the location of the weapons for the princess. He doesn’t care what we do with her.”
Drake’s chin dropped and he looked over at Myka. Her hands wrung together nervously as she watched them. She was going to be heartbroken.
“What did Stoddard’s letter say?” Dawsick asked.
“It said a lot.” Kase held the note out in front of him, and Drake snatched it from his hand. “You can read it out loud.”
Drake looked down at the folded paper, shaking it open. He cleared his throat and began reading, loud enough for the men to hear, but soft enough that Myka couldn’t.
To the men who took Princess Myka,
* * *
My name is Commander Stoddard, and I am the commander of the Tolsten army. I have spent the last twenty years in service to King Adler, working under his wicked rule. He was a weapon-obsessed leader, with no consideration for the law and the Council of Essentials. For years, he’s been ignoring the Essentials Treaty and going behind the back of the Council, doing whatever he wanted.
King Adler started a war with Albion that I couldn’t stop. He planned and had Princess Seran assassinated to stop the alliance between New Hope and Albion. And for years, he’s been building and hiding larger-scale weapons so that he could use them against all of the kingdoms and take over the world. But today, King Adler died.
Drake paused, reading that line again in his head, making sure he had gotten it right. Adler was dead. He swallowed, glancing back at Myka. More news that would crush her.
“Keep going,” Winslow said.
Drake nodded, continuing.
Adler wasn’t going to give the weapons up to you. He wrote that letter before he died. But now that King Adler is dead, we need to make sure that his deadly weapons don’t fall into the wrong hands. We need to find the weapons and destroy them. Myka is the only one who knows where the weapons are. King Adler told her the location before you kidnapped her.
Drake tensed his jaw, and his body straightened. There was no way this could be true.
Turn her in, bring her to Tolsten House, and we can work together to make sure that she discloses the location to us all so that we can finally get rid of them.
I’m not your enemy. I want to live in a world where we don’t have to live in fear that someone will start another Desolation. Let me help you make that a reality.
We can take down the princess together.
* * *
Commander Stoddard
Drake looked up at the other men, unsure how to respond.
“Do we believe Stoddard?” Grady asked.
“He’s bluffing,” Portlend said. “He must have a plan of his own, a way he thinks he’s going to get the princess back. Maybe the king isn’t even dead. Maybe this double letter is a trick.”
“He might be telling the truth,” Kase shrugged.
Drake felt like he needed to refute Stoddard’s letter, because if the commander was telling the truth, that meant Myka hadn’t been. “There is no way we can trust Stoddard. He’s been Adler’s right-hand man for his entire reign. If Stoddard thought Adler was such a bad king, why did he stay with him?”
“I agree,” Portlend said. “According to King Davin, Commander Stoddard is just as bad as King Adler was.”
“Then let’s put the pressure on Commander Stoddard,” Dawsick said. “Let’s send one more letter with a deadline. If the king or Stoddard or whoever is in charge doesn’t meet our demands within five days, the princess dies.”
Dra
ke gave Dawsick a sharp look. “We’re not going to kill the princess.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Dawsick threw his hands out. “He had no problem killing Princess Seran.”
Drake’s throat went dry. “If we kill the princess, then we’re no better than Adler.”
“What if Stoddard is telling the truth? What if the princess does know the location of the weapons? We can’t kill her until we have that information,” Kase said.
“That’s true,” Winslow agreed. “We need to get the location out of her before Stoddard does in case he really isn’t on our side.” He turned to Drake. “How are things going between you and the princess?”
Drake’s brows bent. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about the stupid bet you made with Grady,” Winslow said. “Where are you on that?”
Drake swallowed. “I’m close. I think she finally believes that her father has weapons and that he had something to do with Seran’s assassination.”
“This is no longer just a silly bet,” Winslow said. “We need answers, and we need them fast. Our entire mission depends on it.”
Drake rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t like where the conversation was headed.
Winslow’s eyes went wide. “Forget about whether or not the princess tells you about her father’s illness. We need her to admit to you that she knows where the weapons are.”
“I don’t even believe Stoddard’s letter,” Drake said. “I don’t think the princess knows where the weapons are.”
“We need to assume she does,” Kase said. “And we have to do everything in our power to get the information out of her.”
Drake shrugged. “She’s not going to tell me, especially if her father is dead.”
“We aren’t going to tell her about her father,” Winslow said. “And we’re not going to tell her anything about Stoddard’s letter.”
Portlend nodded. “If we only show her the letter from her father, then maybe she will be so hurt by him, she’ll turn on him and give up some information.”
Drake shook his head. “I really don’t think she’s going to do that.”
“Oh, come on!” Portlend scoffed. “Everyone at camp can see that the princess likes you.”
Did she like him? All of this time, Drake had thought that Myka hated him.
“You need to do whatever it takes to get her to trust you. Charm her, woo her. It’s not that hard to figure out,” Winslow said. “Get her to tell you about the weapons.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Drake asked.
Or if I refuse to do it?
“Then we’ll be forced to take her back to one of our kingdoms and throw her in jail. Interrogate her.” Dawsick smiled. “You know, the usual treatment of a traitor.”
“I don’t know.” Drake bit his lip. “I don’t like this plan.”
“Give it a couple of days,” Grady said. “Let’s see what happens. We don’t have another choice. We can’t hand her over to Stoddard because we don’t know if he’s telling the truth or not.”
“I’ll do it.” Dawsick raised his hand. “Let me be alone with the princess, and I’ll get the information out of her.”
Drake’s fists clenched.
“Myka hates you,” Grady said. “You’re the last person here she would trust.”
“Drake, I don’t know why you are being so difficult.” Portlend looked at him. “Do you want the weapons or not?”
“Of course, I want the weapons,” he snapped.
Kase shrugged. “Then what’s the problem?”
In every other situation in his life, Drake had done whatever he needed to do for Albion, so why was he having such a hard time doing this? If Myka did know where the weapons were, then his hesitation was stupid. She was the enemy, but the problem was, Myka didn’t feel like the enemy. Maybe he could go along with their plan to a point, find out what he could, pivot when he needed to. If Myka divulged the location of the weapons, which Drake doubted she would, then he would’ve done his job. But if she truly didn’t know where they were, then he could protect her, get her out of camp and take her back to Albion before any of the other operatives had a chance to hurt her. This may have started as the Council’s mission, but Drake liked to work alone.
“Fine.” He nodded. “I’ll charm the princess, do what it takes to get her to trust me.”
“Good,” Winslow said. “The rest of us need to act normally. The princess can’t suspect anything. She can’t know about Commander Stoddard’s letter. For now, tell her we’re still coming up with our response to her father’s letter.”
The other men nodded.
“Let’s go show the princess her father’s response, see what happens,” Dawsick said with a smile.
Drake didn’t understand his smile. Myka’s entire world was about to come crashing down, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Myka
Myka was numb. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind. Was her father alive? Was he coming for her? Did he really have weapons to trade?
She sat still—nothing moving but her pounding heart—watching as the six men talked, glancing in her direction every once in a while. She placed her hand on her chest, and her fingers rubbed absentmindedly across her collar bone. It felt like they had been talking forever. Then suddenly, the group of men walked toward her. Each of their footsteps drove into her, increasing her sense of impending doom.
“Myka?” Drake said. “We need to speak with you.”
Well, obviously.
His sobering expression and the formal way he’d addressed her said something was off. She nodded, wiping her hands on her pants even though there was nothing on them.
“What’s going on?” she asked. She looked at Kase. “Did my father send a reply?”
Or did the letter say that the king had died? By the fierce look on Kase’s face, she might have guessed that her father was dead. Or would that information have caused the kidnappers to jump with joy? She didn’t know. Now she was more confused than ever.
“Yes, he replied.” Kase held up a piece of paper.
A rush of relief ran through her. There was a reply. Suddenly she had to know exactly what that letter said. Her heart raced as she looked at the cream-colored paper in his hand. “What did he say?”
Kase’s agitated eyes looked at Winslow, then they pounced back on her. The pounding in her chest seemed to grow louder, and her breathing felt labored.
Why didn’t Kase say what was in the letter? Why was he stalling?
“What?” she demanded. “Tell me what the letter says.”
“Your father is not interested in giving up the weapons in exchange for your return home,” Winslow finally said.
“What?” she breathed out, trying to make sense of his words.
Winslow stroked his brow, not answering her.
Myka stood, grabbing the letter out of Kase’s hand. Her wild eyes scanned the paper, taking in each word as fast as she could. The handwriting matched her father’s, and tears streamed down her face as she realized her father was still alive. But as she continued to read the words, a new kind of pain pierced her.
To the enemy of Tolsten,
* * *
I am flattered that your little group is so interested in my weapons. You may even think you have the upper hand, but I can assure you that there is nothing you can do that puts you in the power position. I alone hold all the power.
* * *
I will not meet your demands to give up the weapons in exchange for the safe return of my daughter. You can do what you want with her. She means nothing to me. I have a bigger plan and a secret weapon that nobody will see coming. I’d be worried about that if I were you.
* * *
King Adler
Myka blinked back her tears. She had gone from being elated that her father was still alive to feeling like someone had stabbed her in the heart. She turned to look at Drake. His hands were on his hips, and his jaw was hard.
“No.” S
he shook her head as she held up the letter. “No, this isn’t right. Something is wrong. My father would never say this.”
Her eyes darted to Kase. “Did you watch my father write this?” She already knew the answer to that question even before she asked it. No one was allowed to see her father as part of the ruse that he was recovering from surgery, and not dying from a deadly illness.
Kase shook his head. “No.”
“Is that his handwriting?” Winslow asked.
She studied the paper again. It was close to his handwriting, but there were a few curves that seemed different. She didn’t know if that was because her father was too weak and sick to write or if someone else like his secretary, Nolan, had written it. “It might be his handwriting, but that’s not how he would react.”
“Maybe you don’t know your father as well as you think you do,” Portlend said.
She flashed her hurt-filled eyes at him. “This is just another lie. That’s all you guys do, fill my head with lies.”
“Lies? Myka, he admitted to having the weapons.” Drake tilted his head to her. “What more proof do you need?”
She didn’t need any more proof, but at the moment, she couldn’t face admitting to these men that her entire life had been a lie. She was desperate for another explanation. “You guys probably wrote this, trying to get me to turn against my father.”
Grady shook his head. “How would we know what your father’s handwriting looks like?”
“I don’t know,” she said, raising her voice. “All I know is this isn’t him.” One tear dropped, and she wiped her cheek forcefully, getting rid of the evidence. “He loves me! He wouldn’t abandon me.”
The Stolen Princess: A YA Dystopian Romance (Desolation Book 3) Page 20