Dread and humiliation coil in Oak’s stomach. He has been such a fool.
“Why not whip me now?” he asks, a challenge in his voice.
“Spending a night dreading what will come in the morning is its own punishment.” She pauses. “Especially as you now know your own hand can be turned against you.”
Oak looks directly into her eyes. “Why are you keeping me at all, Wren? Am I a hostage to be ransomed? A lover to be punished? A possession to be locked away?”
“That,” she says, bitterness in her voice, “is what I am trying to figure out myself.” She turns to the guards. “Take him back to his cell.”
Bran reaches for him, and the prince struggles, pulling out of the guard’s grasp.
“Oak,” Wren says, pressing her fingers to his cheek. He goes still beneath her touch. “Go with Straun. Do not resist him. Do not trick him. Until you are confined again, you will follow these commands. And then you will stay in my prisons until you are sent for.” She gives the prince a stern look and withdraws her hand. Turns to the soldiers. “Once Oak is in his cell, the three of you can go to Hyacinthe and explain how you allowed the prince to slip past you.”
Hyacinthe. A reminder that the person in charge of the guards hates Oak more than the rest of them combined. As though he needed more miserable news.
“Will you send for me?” the prince asks, as though there’s any room for bargaining. As though he has a choice. As though his body will not obey its own accord. “You said only perhaps you’d have me whipped.”
Straun shoves him toward the door.
“Good night, Prince of Elfhame,” Wren says as he is led from the room. He manages a single glance back. Her gaze locks with his, and he can feel the frisson of something between them. Something that might well be terrible, but that he wants more of all the same.
CHAPTER
4
T
he scarred-nose guard follows Straun and Oak down the stairs. Bran trails behind them. For a while, none of them speak.
“Let’s take him to the interrogation room,” the guard says, low-voiced. “Pay him back for the trouble we’re going to be in. Find some information to make up for it.”
Oak clears his throat loudly. “I’m a valuable possession. The queen won’t thank you for breaking me.”
One corner of the guard’s mouth turns up. “Don’t recognize me? But then, why would you? I’m just another of your father’s people, just another one who fought and bled and nearly died to put you on the throne. All for you to throw it back in our faces.”
I didn’t want the throne. Oak bites the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting the words. That isn’t going to help. Instead, he stares at the scarred man’s face, at the dark eyes and auburn hair that hangs across his forehead. At the scar itself, which pulls his mouth up, as though his lip is perpetually curled.
“Valen,” he prompts before Oak can recall his name. One of the generals who campaigned with Madoc for years. Not a friend, either. They vied against each other for the position of grand general, and Valen never forgave Madoc for winning. Madoc must have promised him something extraordinary to get Valen to betray the High King.
Oak could well believe that once coming to Madoc’s side, Valen was unwilling to return to the military in Elfhame, tail between his legs. And now he is here, after spending perhaps nine years as a falcon. Oh, yes, Oak could well believe Valen despises him. Valen may actually hate him more than Hyacinthe does.
“I was a child,” the prince says.
“A spoiled, disobedient boy. You still are. But that won’t stop me from wringing every last drop of information out of you.”
Straun hesitates, cutting his gaze toward Bran, still far enough back that he hasn’t overheard their plan. “Aren’t we going to get in more trouble? The prince said—”
“You take orders from a prisoner now?” Valen needles. “Perhaps you’re still loyal to his father, despite being abandoned by him. Or the High Court? Maybe you think you made the wrong choice, not swearing fealty to that spoiled snake boy and his mortal concubine.”
“That’s not true!” Straun spits out, mightily offended. It’s a fine piece of manipulation. Valen has made Straun feel as though he has to prove himself.
“Then let’s go strap him down,” Valen says with a crooked grin. Oak would be willing to bet that this is the soldier who took Straun’s money playing dice.
“He’s just goading you—” Oak manages to get out before he is shoved roughly forward. And, of course, he has been commanded not to resist.