Prisoner Princess Read online

  “I would have liked to see her. She's been making you happy, I hope?”

  “Of course. Aislainn's lovely.” Roderick's voice suddenly took a turn for the solemn. “Although... sometimes I think nothing will ever compare to the days I spent with you. Those were the happiest days of my life, I swear.”

  “Oh, Roderick...”

  Tobias, who trailed behind them, grumbled a string of explicit curses. While he was usually mindful of his language, hearing his wife's ex-boyfriend gush about their happiest days was excruciating. If Roderick wasn't on their side, Tobias' fists might have succumbed to temptation.

  When her airships landed, Lyneah amassed a sizable army to storm the palace. Thanks to the efforts of the Baltmoor Aerial Militia, the front gate was already breached. Entering the palace wasn't a struggle—but finding her mother was.

  “I'm going to check the throne room,” Lyneah told Roderick. “My mother likes to pretend to be a queen, so it's probably her favorite place in the palace. Roderick... take half of our soldiers and search the sixth floor. The last time I saw my mother, that's where she was.” Lyneah freed her gun from its holster and turned toward her husband, who was still walking behind her. “Tobias... you're coming with me. I want to keep an eye on you.”

  “I want to keep an eye on you,” Tobias raised his revolver as he threw Lyneah's words back at her. “Lead the way.”

  While the Baltmoor Militiamen were engaged in battle with Eversio's soldiers, Lyneah and her troops slipped into the palace and clung to the walls as they made their way forward. Though she ultimately wanted Eversio expunged, Lyneah wanted to complete her primary goal first. At the moment, capturing her mother was the only thought in her mind.

  They made it to the throne room without much resistance. When she entered, Lyneah was surprised by how eerily quiet it was. Even as a battle raged nearby, the throne room was completely and utterly without noise.

  “Well...” Tobias looked down at the gun in his hand. In some strange way, he regretted that he didn't have a chance to use it. His uncharacteristic lust for blood must have been Francis Doon's influence. “It looks like your mother isn't here.”

  “I can see that, Tobey. Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

  “Hey!” His brow furrowed at the harshness of her reply. “You don't have to be rude!”

  “Right.” When another male voice suddenly spoke, his words echoed through the room. “You shouldn't be rude to my Tobias.”

  Grinning fiendishly, Jackal stepped out from behind the throne. He made a clicking noise with his tongue, ordering his men to reveal themselves. Nearly a dozen of Eversio's riflemen stepped out from behind the throne room's ornate white columns. When all of their rifles were raised, Jackal excitedly clapped his hands.

  “Oh dear,” Jackal snorted with laughter. “Oh dear oh dear oh dear. It seems you've gotten yourself into a spot of trouble, queen. Whatever are you going to do now?” As he aimed his own rifle at Lyneah's head, Jackal imitated the sound of a firing gun. “With a wave of my hand, I could order these men to shoot you and... well... you'd all be dead, wouldn't you?”

  Lyneah glanced around the room. Her soldiers outnumbered them, but Jackal's men had them surrounded on all sides. If she ordered her soldiers to attack the riflemen, several of them would surely end up dead.

  “But I'm feeling more generous than usual today. I don't know if I want to kill you or not,” Jackal told them. “Besides, you brought my Tobias back to me! I feel rather grateful to you for that... so I'm going to give you a chance.” Jackal extended a hand toward Tobey. “If the boy comes with me, I'll call off my soldiers, and then I'll let you live.”

  “Never,” Lyneah answered quickly.

  Tobias had other ideas. To Lyneah, he whispered, “But what if I can save everyone? I'm not worth all of these lives!”

  “No!” Lyneah swatted his arm. “I can't believe you'd even consider it! I'm not going to hand you over to this... this... extremely odd person!”

  Jackal clapped his hands three times, turning their attention back to him. “If I were you, I'd consider the offer carefully. Do you really want a nice, pretty hole in the head, Your Highness? I think not.” Jackal grinned at Tobias. “I want the beautiful boy for myself. If he comes with me, I promise I won't hurt him!”

  To which Julian Featherstone lackadaisically replied, “But I can't promise I won't hurt you.” As he stepped out from behind one of the pillars, Captain Featherstone raised his sword and pointed it at the back of Jackal's head. “Hello there. Are you surprised to see me?”

  “Ahhhh... haha... ha... ha...ehe...” Jackal's mad laughter gradually turned nervous. “Julian Featherstone! I didn't expect to see you again. Did you follow me all the way in here? I'm flattered. I didn't realize you missed me so much.”

  “I know. My heart's broken by your absence,” Julian said with a snort. “Now... listen carefully, because I have a deal for you.” He suddenly kicked the backs of Jackal's legs, bringing him to his knees. “Call off your men, and I won't kill you.”

  “How do I know you're telling the truth?” asked a grumbling Jackal.

  “Because I'm a man of my word, that's why,” Julian kicked him again, simply because he felt like it. “Now tell your men to leave the room. I won't ask again.”

  Jackal waved his arm and solemnly said,” Go.” At first, his riflemen seemed reluctant to comply, but after a few seconds of whispering amongst themselves, they filed out of the throne room.

  As soon as the last man was gone, Julian roughly pressed the tip of his blade against Jackal's nape. “You know what I said about being a man of my word?” He leaned toward Jackal's ear and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Well... I lied.”

  Before Jackal had a chance to react, Julian thrust his sword through the throat of Jared's murderer. Jackal sputtered helplessly as a ream of blood shot from his neck. Julian yanked out his sword and kicked him to the floor, where Jackal gasped his final breaths. With his last ounce of strength, he tried to reach out for Tobey.

  When it was finally safe, Lyneah spoke first. “I don't know who you are... but thank you.”

  “What do you mean, you don't know who I am?” An exaggerated pout suddenly appeared on Julian's bottom lip. “I'm offended! Deeply offended! After all that time I spent flirting with you on Doon's airship, you somehow managed to forget me? Women never forget me!”

  “Umm...” Lyneah exchanged glances with Tobias, who gave her a tiny shrug. “You must be thinking of Kitt. We look identical.”

  “Seriously? You mean there are two flame-haired beauties like you out there?” Julian clasped a hand to his heart, as if the thought was too much to bear. “If that's true, the world's been truly blessed.”

  “Uh... thank you?”

  “You're welcome.” Julian winked at her. “For the rescue, I mean. And the compliment as well, I suppose.”

  Lyneah started to shuffle in the direction of the door. “As much as I would love to chat, I really must be going. I'm looking for my mother, Queen Loreina.”

  “Loreina!” Julian gasped the name. “Now there's a bosom I could never forget! If you need her, I'd suggest searching on the sixth floor. That's where we used to convene when she'd invite me to her bed.”

  “That... was nothing I needed to know.” By the time she reached the door, Lyneah was sneering. “But thanks anyway! Farewell!” Lyneah slipped through the door before Julian had a chance to recite more disturbing tales of his trysts with her mother.

  When they were back in the hall, Lyneah followed her men to the grand staircase at the palace's core. On the second floor, they encountered three of Eversio's men, who were easily put down by Lyneah's solders. On the third floor, a trembling maid cowered as she watched them pass. On the fourth floor, Lyneah found Roderick.

  And he was carrying her mother.

  “Put me down!” Loreina was kicking and flailing as her former knight hauled her down the stairs. “No... no! You can't take me to my daughter! Do you have any idea
what she'll do when she sees me? Do you even care?”

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Loreina's gasp was deep and prolonged when she heard the sound of her daughter's voice. She started to flail even harder, so Roderick had to put her down.

  “Lyneah... my dear girl!” Loreina opened her arms to her daughter. It wasn't as if she actually expected Lyneah to rush into an embrace, but she thought the warm gesture might ingratiate her. “It's been a long time, hasn't it? How have you been? How is your young fiance?”

  “He was tortured, thanks to you.” Lyneah raised her pistol and pointed it directly at her mother's forehead, which was wrinkled with worry. “Do you have any last words?”

  “You're not really going to kill me, are you?” Loreina gasped again. “You wouldn't!”

  “And... that's where you're wrong, Mother.” As she aimed the gun, Lyneah's hand was shaking. Her mother was evil. Her mother was responsible for so much of her grief. Still, Lyneah's heart ached at the thought of shooting the woman who gave her life.

  But she pulled the trigger anyway.

  When her mother's dead body fell at her feet, Lyneah shuddered.

  It was finally over.

  Forty Six

  There were six or seven Eversio airships in the sky. On the opposing side, the Baltmoor Aerial Militia had a half-dozen sturdy vessels. When Roderick arrived, he brought another half-dozen Royal Black Wings ships, which meant they outnumbered Eversio two-to-one.

  And then there was Doon's airship. He had been wildly outnumbered before, but rarely did he have such an advantage. As he wound through the many ships that peppered the sky, he felt oddly relaxed, even in the middle of a ship battle.

  “Whatchu gonna do, Cap'n?” asked Bryce, who stood at his captain's side as Doon piloted the airship.

  “I don't know. I'm trying to decide on a target.” When he raised his spyglass, he saw a slender beige ship landing a succession of direct hits on one of Roderick's. “And... I think I just found my mark.”

  Doon increased his altitude and made a sharp turn. Within seconds, they were drifting alongside the Eversio airship's flank. Doon signaled to Bryce, who signaled another man, who passed the message to the pirates who manned the cannons. They unleashed a volley on the unsuspecting airship, which was immediately crippled by the incoming rain of cannon fire.

  Before Doon could circle around to finish the job, he received some unexpected assistance from the Baltmoor Aerial Militia. A second bombardment from Admiral Jordan sealed the fate of Eversio's ship. It spiraled down to earth in a shroud of flame.

  “Well, that was fast,” said Kieran, who suddenly appeared at Doon's side.

  “Dammit, McCray!” Doon gasped. “Don't sneak up beside me like that, not when I'm trying to pilot the ship!”

  “Don't be so angry! I thought you'd appreciate a bit of praise. That was the fastest airship battle in the history of airship battles.”

  “Indeed it was,” Doon agreed, chuckling. “Maybe I should follow them down and finish the job? We should make sure none of these Eversio assholes come crawling out.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Kieran's sword was out of its sheath before Doon even started to descend, and by the time they touched the ground, he was more than ready for some action. In fact, Kieran was the first one off the airship, followed by Doon and his men.

  When they boarded Eversio's fallen ship, the enemy was trying to douse the raging flames. A wide-eyed soldier dropped his bucket of water and immediately drew his sword when he saw Kieran approach. The fight didn't last long. As Kieran's sword sliced through his opponent's gut, he raised his pistol and shot another man between the eyes.

  Kieran cut his way through several opponents, one right after another. At one point, a bullet whizzed by his head. When he spotted the man who shot at him, Kieran closed the distance between them and sunk a dagger into the shooter's neck. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of bodies in his wake.

  Until someone stabbed him from behind.

  Callum's rapier penetrated so hard, it nearly ran Kieran through. “I suppose I shouldn't have attacked from behind. A straightforward fight is much more honorable, isn't it?” Callum whispered into Kieran's ear as he withdrew his blade. As he prepared to stab him again, he added, “But I'm not an honorable man.”

  “Neither am I,” Doon chimed in as he lopped off Callum's hand, right at the wrist. Like Callum, he sneaked up from behind.

  When Callum saw his rapier—and hand—crash against the airship's deck, he roared with pain and horror.

  “I might even be more dishonorable, because I'll happily finish the job.” As he spoke, Doon ran his blade across the throat of Kieran's attacker. Callum sank to his knees and gripped his neck as the blood bubbled out.

  Doon's brow was pinched with concern when he saw Kieran's wound. “Are you alright, McCray?”

  Kieran, with a hand gripping his bloody stomach, staggered away from the scene. “Do I look alright? Damn, this hurts. I think this might be the wound that kills me, Doon.”

  “Don't be so damn dramatic! If you're still walking and talking, you're not dead yet.” Doon gave the mercenary's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We'll get you patched up and stitched up, and then you'll be as good as new.”

  “I don't know about good as new. I'm getting too bloody old for this.”

  “Nah. You can't retire until you've beaten me in a duel.” Doon offered his shoulder to Kieran, who leaned against him as they sauntered back to Doon's airship. By that time, most of the fighting had already subsided.

  “True,” Kieran agreed. “I would love to beat you one day. I need to see that smug smile wiped off your blasted face.”

  “So if you actually want to be beat me, you can't retire for at least another twenty years or so. Because that's how long it will take.” Doon winked at him. “Hell, it might even be thirty years, but who can say for sure.”

  “Go to hell,” Kieran groaned at him.

  “Of course, we'll both be old men by then... you'll be even older... but maybe you'll finally have your shot.”

  “Go to hell!” Kieran repeated with a growl

  Then he wrapped an arm around Doon's shoulders, letting his friend—and rival—carry him from the ship.

  Forty Seven

  Thomas Harriot braced himself for the next round of attacks. As a horde of Eversio's elite poured down the alley, he kept this goal in his mind: Protect Princess Isabella.

  He temporarily sheathed his small sword and pulled out his revolver, which he used to eliminate the first six targets that rounded the bend. And they kept coming. Eversio's soldiers had to crawl over corpses to get to Harriot, and when they did, he immediately cut them down. A slice to the throat. A stab in the gut. A swish of his blade across the abdomen. He killed them all in various ways, but no matter how many they threw at him, he cut them all down. Even with a wound, Harriot held his ground.

  He was protected by the fort of corpses that had amassed around him—but he wasn't protected from everything. A rooftop sniper fired a shot, hitting Tom's shoulder.

  “Isabella, get down!” Harriot screamed, fearing the sniper would aim at her next. As he fought two men at once, he briefly turned his gaze to the surrounding rooftops and tried to spot the sniper, but he didn't see anyone. Apparently, they were good at hiding.

  Tom had two wounds—and he was getting weaker. While he continued to have the upper hand against anyone they threw at him, he was starting to slow down. As he stabbed a man in the gut, someone sliced Tom's arm. As he carved into an Eversio soldier's throat, another man cut across Tom's collarbone. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, but he refused to fall. For Isabella's sake, he couldn't let himself fall.

  After a seemingly never-ending battle, Tom heard a familiar voice speak, “Bravo, Thomas! You've taken down every man I had with me. Every last one. I'm a little disappointed in them... but as your father, I can't help but feel a little impressed by what you've managed to accomplish.”

  When Gareth appe
ared, he ascended the wall of corpses to reach his son. “You're looking rather awful, son,” Gareth casually observed. “Bleeding from multiple wounds... leaning against the wall... barely propping yourself up... do you really think you can hold your ground against the man who taught you how to fight?”

  “I can,” Tom answered coldly. “I will.” He straightened his back and raised his blade.

  “Are you sure? Because I'm going to give you a chance to walk away from this.” Gareth propositioned him, “Hand over the princess, and I'll let you live. I'll even let you come back to me. Do you really think I want to lose the last of my sons?”

  “I don't care what you want. I'm not handing her over.”

  “Tom...” When Isabella spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Tom, I think I should probably go with him. I don't want you to--”

  “No,” Tom's answer was firm. “You're not going with him. He'll hurt you. Kill you. I won't let that happen. I'll protect you until I draw my last breath, Isabella.”

  “Well then... I hate to say it, but you'll be drawing your last breath soon.” Gareth Harriot raised his broadsword and took a step in his son's direction. “It's a shame we couldn't avoid this. I really don't want to see you dead.”

  Tom had been on the offensive all day, but as soon as his father started swinging, he had to focus his energy on blocking and dodging. Slowed down by his many wounds, Tom's head was nearly lopped from his shoulders a few times. When he finally squeezed in a counterattack, which was easily blocked by Gareth, the rooftop sniper suddenly reappeared. The sniper's shot hit Tom's other shoulder, and the new burst of pain nearly made him drop his sword.

  Gareth's sword swung forward with incredible force. Tom barely blocked, and while their swords were crossed, he tossed his small sword at Isabella. “If I don't make it...” Tom croaked the words as he shuffled out of range of his father's mad attacks. “Use that to defend yourself, Isabella.”