Sara Larson - Defy

“I suppose that’s my answer, then.” Damian set the trinket down hard on the desk and waved his fingers at me. “You may go.”

I nodded, backing toward the door. “Yes, sir.”

I had failed him somehow, but I didn’t know how to fix it. Or why I would even care to try. I was glad to be dismissed, grateful to leave behind the unexpected pang of concern for a prince I’d long ago convinced myself was as corrupt as his father.

The door swung open without a sound — the hinges were well oiled. But voices lifted in anger greeted me. Deron, Rylan, and Jude stood in front of the doorway, their stances tense. Facing them were three of the king’s guard and Iker.

“Captain, I require a word with you and Prince Damian,” Iker was saying. His greasy hair looked even shinier than normal and his robes were stained and wrinkled, as though he’d slept in them. I couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to garner such favor from the king as to become his chief advisor.

“The prince is indisposed and needs some time to collect himself.” Deron glanced at me as I walked over to where they stood.

Iker’s lips pursed. “The king is concerned for his son’s well-being and I have come to make sure proper measures are put into place to ensure his safety.”

“I assure you that we have things well under control and that the prince will be more closely guarded than —”

“That is not enough.” Iker cut Deron off. “By order of King Hector, one of you will personally stay here at night, guarding the prince’s door at all hours. He must have someone by his side at all times. We can take no chances with the life of the heir to the throne.”

Deron was silent for a moment; a muscle stood out on his jaw. Finally, he barely inclined his head. “It will be as the king wishes. Alex is the best man we have. I will assign him to guard the prince’s door.”

I stared at Deron for a moment too long. “You wish me to sleep here ?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Damian’s voice made me jump.

Iker bowed to the prince, then smiled — a smile as oily as his hair. “Your father is concerned for your safety. We are putting greater measures of protection in place to ensure your continued well-being.”

“By making me a prisoner to my own guard?”

I stepped aside as Prince Damian strode up to Iker. Damian’s expression was sardonic, his voice insolent. But tension hung around him like a palpable shroud.

“Not a prisoner — imagine the thought.” Iker tittered. “Always, you’ve had such a lively imagination. No, you may continue your life as you see fit, but Captain D’agnen or members of his guard will always be with you to make sure no one can get close enough to threaten you ever again.”

“I see.” The insolence was gone from Prince Damian’s voice, replaced instead by a coldness that made me shiver.

“Captain D’agnen has assigned Alex to sleep here, in the outer chamber, to protect your door from intruders.”

“ Alex is going to be sleeping right here — outside my door?” There was a strange hint of bemusement in Prince Damian’s voice. He glanced at me with his eyebrows lifted. For some odd reason, I had to fight to keep from blushing. Men on the prince’s guard did not blush.

“As the captain pointed out” — Iker looked back at me with a mysterious glint in his eyes — “your men are good, but Alex is the best. Surprisingly.”

My mouth felt dry, but I forced myself to lower my head in acknowledgment of his somewhat backhanded compliment.

Iker turned back to Prince Damian. “This ensures the king’s peace of mind for his son’s safety.”

“As my safety is the king’s greatest concern.” Prince Damian’s voice was biting.

“Indeed, Your Highness,” Iker said. “You are his heir.”

“You will have to thank him for his concern on my behalf.” Prince Damian turned on his heel, heading back into his room, until he paused. “I wish to lie down and rest, maybe even use my chamber pot. Does Captain D’agnen or Alex need to come hold my hand? Make sure no one sneezes near me while I relieve myself?”

It took every bit of control I possessed to keep my face impassive in that moment. I was torn between letting my jaw drop and bursting out in laughter. I could see the other men struggling as well.

Iker flushed an ugly shade of puce. “Do you make light of the attempt on your life?” There was a strange note to his voice, but I couldn’t place it. Almost sarcasm.

“Absolutely not,” the prince replied. “I only seek to know just how involved you — I mean, Father — intends to have Captain D’agnen be in keeping guard over me.”

Iker met Prince Damian’s icy glare. “As involved as necessary to keep you from coming to harm.”

“Well, as I see no one hiding in my bed with a sword or standing over my chamber pot with an ax, I believe I shall retire to my room. This has been an exhausting morning, to say the least.” Prince Damian yawned deeply as if to prove his point, walked into his room, and slammed the door shut.

“You will do as the king wishes, won’t you, Captain D’agnen?” Iker’s glance paused on me before pinning Deron with a pointed stare. Iker’s eyes were such a dark gray, they almost looked black, and his skin was sickly pale. I’d never liked being around him, but after seeing him in his room the other night and after what he’d made us do to those girls, looking at him made my skin crawl.

“Yes, we will do everything required of us to protect our prince.”

I pressed my fist to my chest along with the rest of the guard and we all bowed to Iker. Even though I was completely panicked inside, I had to appear calm. There was no reason Alex Hollen, second only to the captain of the prince’s personal guard, would have a problem sleeping near his liege. Alex had nothing to hide. But Alexa did, and I had no idea what this would mean for keeping up my disguise.

“Excellent. That is all.” Iker swept the other men with his dark gaze, then turned on his heel and exited the room, the king’s guards behind him.

I stared after them, shifting my face into a mask to conceal the dread coiling in my belly. I had to get down to the dungeons right away, before Tanoori undid Marcel’s sacrifices to protect me by revealing my secret.

MY FOOTSTEPS ECHOED on the stone stairs leading down to the dungeons. The outfit I wore was intended to intimidate: tall, heavy boots; thick gloves with metal knuckles; my sword at my side. That was what I intended to do — what I had to do. Intimidate Tanoori to keep her from revealing who I was. I’d managed to convince Deron to let me be the one to interrogate her, thankfully. My secret depended on keeping her silent.

The dungeons were dank, the air hot and wet and stale as I descended into the depths of the palace. I’d always thought it would be cooler down there, but the dungeons were built above the forge and the heat of the constant fires seeped through the ground into the dark cells. It would be a kindness on our part to fulfill Tanoori’s sentence quickly. To die fast was better than to rot down here, slowly losing who you were to the dark, the filth, the stench and madness that claimed all long-term tenants of the cells eventually.

“Where is the prisoner?” I asked Jaerom, the keeper of the keys. He was Deron’s cousin. Deron was taller, but Jaerom was bigger; his arms were the size of small tree trunks. His skin was slightly lighter than Deron’s, closer to the color of coffee, rather than the darkness of the nighttime sky.

“She’s over here,” Jaerom said, picking up his keys and a torch, which he handed to me. I followed him to one of the cells and took a deep breath. “The cap’n asked you to do the questioning, huh, Little Boss?”