Chosen By The Prince (10 page)

"
You WHAT?
"

"I told them they could have their way with your whore."

He grabbed her shoulders roughly. She was smiling, her face full of spite.

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

"I have no idea. Honestly, who knew you would get so worked up over a little piece of trash."

She laughed as he ran off.

"I'm sure they are done with her by now!"

He was running through the gardens, his heart thudding in his chest. Oh god, if they'd hurt her... He ran faster than he'd ever run before. The castle was up ahead. He ran through the courtyard toward the barracks. His men were gathered in a group up ahead, looking at something on the ground.

He pushed them aside, staring at three of Leticia's guards. They knelt in the mud. They all looked as if they'd been in a tussle, each bearing several scratches on their faces. He stared down at them.

"Where is she?"

His voice was harsh and uneven. The kneeling men flinched. That's when he saw it.

Her hair. One of them was holding a swath of her beautiful hair.

"What did you do to her?"

"Nothing! She got away before we could-"

"Before you could what? Did you know she was the property of the crown?
My property!?!
"

The man nodded miserably.

"The Princess told us to mark her, to ruin her for you. She was jealous. I didn't want to hurt the girl-"

The Prince threw back his head and screamed.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Behind her a feminine giggle met his ears. He turned to see Letticia standing with two of her ladies.

"Who knew a harlot could hold such power over a Prince?"

He turned his back on her.

"Please escort this bitch to the docks and put her on the first boat out of here."

"What? But you can't- the wedding is in two days!"

He turned back to her, a spiteful look on his face.

"I wouldn't marry you if you were the last woman on earth. Now leave unless you want to end up like your men."

"My men? What about my men?"

He turned back to the terrified men.

"Did you touch her?"

The men looked at each other nervously. Finally they nodded.

"Where?"

"Just- her bosom and- to cut her hair- please show mercy-"

"Hold out your hands."

"No please, your highness."

"Shut up.
Hold out your hands.
"

The men held their hands forward. Max took a sword from one of his guards. He stared down at the men, their filthy hands. They'd touched her with those hands. One of them still held her hair. He reached down and pulled the silky strands from his grasp. That's when he noticed that there were small pieces of bloody skin attached. She must have struggled against them... He closed his eyes tightly.

When he opened his eyes again he wrapped her hair around his palm and grasped the sword. Without a word he lifted it and brought it down on the hand of the man in front of him. It sliced cleanly through his wrist, severing his right hand. The man screamed and fell back. Then he moved to the next man. He took one hand from each of them before dropping the sword.

"Make sure they live. I'm not through with them."

He turned to see Letticia leaning on one of her women, on the brink of a faint. She watched helplessly as her guards were dragged to the dungeons, screaming in agony.

"Be sure to tell your father it was an amicable decision to dissolve our betrothal agreement. Otherwise I will let word get out that you were bedding your guards."

Her eyes lifted to his, horror dawning.
 

"You can't! You wouldn't!"

"If you were a man, you'd be dead already. As it is, I'm sorely tempted to scalp you."

He turned and strode through the yard.

"JILLIAN!"

His guards trotted to keep up with him.

"Where is she?"

"She ran off- that way."

Another guard joined them from the other direction.

"She went into the smoke house. I saw her."

He started running. The smokehouse was at the far end of the castle settlement, bordering the woods. As it came into view his heart dropped.

The smokehouse was on fire.

He ran into the burning building, screaming her name. He could hardly see, but he reached out, feeling with his hands. His guards followed him in and pulled him backwards. It took four of them but they managed to drag him from the building moments before it collapsed.

"
Noooo!
"

The hoarse voice calling her name was not his own. The burned hands that clawed the earth were someone else's. The eyes that wept could not be his. He sat there and helplessly watched as the building burnt to the ground.

When the guards had finally managed to put the fire out, the Prince insisted on sifting through the rubble with them. No bones were found which gave him hope. But then, near the rear of the smoke house, they'd found the circlet of heavy gold.

Her collar.

The Prince said nothing. He ordered a search of the surrounding countryside but they all knew it was hopeless. She was gone. His love was gone.

Six months later Max was sitting at lunch with his father and Sephina. The Sobriquet had been visibly melancholy since the loss of Jillian. It seemed everyone was, even his mother. The Queen was out on a tour of the nation's religious houses, spreading wealth to the worthiest and making note of those that seemed to be languishing.

He ate sparingly. He knew they were all worried about him. He'd lost considerable weight since... the fire. He didn't like to think about what had happened but he couldn't stop himself. It was his penance for what he'd done to her.

He replayed their last night together over and over in his head, recalling the way he'd punished her. Remembering the look of humiliation and shame on her face as he'd forced her to perform for him. All he'd wanted was to sink into her arms and tell her he loved her, that he could never love the Princess. But his pride hadn't let him. He'd treated Jillian that way and then avoided her the next day until... He wondered if she had hated him when she died. He wondered if she'd felt pain.

Jillian.

Even her name caused physical pain to twist in his belly, like a knife. He knew that she had been hurt when Leticia's guards cut her beautiful hair. He knew that they had torn her dress off of her and touched her body. But they hadn't raped her. He was sure of it because he'd tortured them himself, making them retell their stories again and again. The men were still in the dungeon, brittle shells of human beings. He almost laughed. He was a shell too.

His parents were upset, not only because it seemed unlikely he'd be making an heir any time soon, but because he was disappearing before their eyes. The biggest chunk had gone the day of the fire. But little bits had been dissolving since, each time he thought about that last night, each time he listened to the men in the dungeon tell their tale... The only thing that helped was remembering the times he had made her happy. Or pretending that she was still alive... somewhere far from here.
 

A messenger ran into the room, bearing a small message with the royal seal. His father reached for it but the messenger bowed and held it to the Prince instead. He broke it open, his heart thudding in his chest.
 

His mother's handwriting. Three words.

I've found her.

Her? Did she mean-

He stood, his hands grabbing the messenger.
 

"Where?"

"The Hardcastle Nunnery. By the sea."

The Prince closed his eyes, afraid to believe. Then he ran from the room. It took a full day of hard travel, with the Prince sleeping in his saddle. But by the next morning, he had arrived at the Nunnery.

The beautiful girl was sitting in a fenced courtyard, playing with a lamb. The Prince was leaning against the perforated grate, staring at her as his mother tried to calm him.

"They found her in the woods. She was badly injured. She had fallen and struck her head on something."

He nodded, afraid to look away. It was her. Jillian.
 

She was alive.

"Max, she's not the same girl she was. She..."

"What?"

"She hasn't spoken since they found her. They've been calling her May. That's when they found her. She thinks that's her name. They think she might be... well, simple."

"It doesn't matter."

The Queen sighed and glanced at the girl through the fence. She was worried, he knew. Worried he'd just be hurt again. He didn't care though.
 

Jillian was alive.

"I'm going in now."

"Alright, son. Try not to be too disappointed if she doesn't remember you."

He kissed his mother and walked around the fence to the door in the gate. The Mother Superior stood there, wringing her hands.

"We had no idea who she was I swear to you, your Highness."

"I know."

"You mustn't frighten her. She's terribly afraid of men. She's such a sweet child..."

He closed his eyes. That was his fault. He hadn't protected her. No one would hurt her again, not even him. He vowed it. He reached for the gate and stepped inside.

He took one step, two, three. The girl before him was laying in the grass on her side, her shoulder length hair gleaming in the sun. She had gotten a tan and filled out a bit. The nuns were apparently known for their cooking.

She looked beautiful.

As he got closer he noticed that she had scars now. A few around her shoulders where her hair curled against her jaw. Another on the swell of her breast where it pressed against the simple cotton dress she wore. They were scratches from when they'd tried to hurt her... but they hadn't. He reminded himself again: she was safe. She was alive.

She looked up suddenly, staring at him wide eyed. He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring, trying not to frighten her with the intensity of his gaze. He longed to sweep her up into his arms. He wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real.

She was watching him warily, sitting up and clutching the lamb. The lamb started to bleat, trying to get away. In her fear she was squeezing it too tight.

He knelt down and sat in the grass a few feet away. He held his hand out to the lamb who escaped her grasp and trotted over to him. It sniffed his fingers and he scratched it's head, smiling shyly at the wide eyed girl.

She didn't recognize him. But she wasn't running away either. She watched him curiously as he played with the lamb. He looked up and her eyes were on his face. She was staring at his mouth. He smiled sensually and she looked away, blushing. At least he knew the attraction was still there. On both of their sides.

He sat there in the grass with her until the bell tolled for the evening meal. He followed her slowly through the nunnery to the dining hall and took a seat across the room from her. He ate in silence, making an effort not to stare at her. He watched her surreptitiously as she ate, knowing immediately when she became aware of him.
 

She'd been reaching for more bread when she froze, staring at him. He acted as if it were normal for him to be there. Slowly, she would get used to him. The nuns were probably confused by the presence of a man in the room but they said nothing. He was the Prince after all.

They wouldn't allow him to sleep with or even near her, however. He was forced to sleep in the guest house reserved for men and married couples, located just outside the walls. His mother had returned to the castle and was sending back reinforcements. Guards. Lots of them. He wanted to make sure his love was well protected this time.
 

In the morning he wandered around, making sure he was always in her periphery. She did her chores, sweeping the walkways and taking care of the animals. He helped a few times. She looked happy. At peace. He knew he would soon shatter that peace by taking her back to the castle. But she belonged to him. There was no other option.

He was doing his best to be patient, once again sitting with her in the grass during prayer time. She was starting to be less nervous around him, even smiling at him when he fluttered his eyelashes at her flirtatiously. Her eyes were so soft now, with the innocence of a child. He wondered if she would ever regain her memories... he would love and protect her even if that day never came. His sweet girl was changed. He loved her anyway.

The lamb was joined with a bunny today, the animals seeming to follow her around. She was the one who saw to their feeding and they'd become attached to her. He was petting one of the silly lop eared rabbits when he heard her gasp. He looked up and her eyes were wide with fear, staring over his shoulder. In the gateway, you could see his guards. They must have just arrived.

Damn.

She was whimpering now, sliding backwards toward the stone wall. Her hand was cupping her temple where she'd injured her head. He'd noticed that she did that when she was afraid or unsure. He hated seeing her do that, wishing he could take her pain away.

If he hadn't noticed her holding her head, or known her before the accident, he would just thinks she was a beautiful simpleton. Sensual and sweet and naive. Perhaps he would even have selected her to be his Sofriquette...

He cursed and stood.

"Hush now, it's all right."

He strode to the gate and gestured his guards away. When he turned she was curled into a ball, weeping piteously. He scooped her up into his arms and walked through the nunnery. He found a nun who looked scandalized to see his Sofriquette cradled in his arms.

"Where is her room?"

She pointed down the hallway. He took off without a backward glance. Once inside her small spartan chamber he laid her down on her bed, then followed her down to the hard pallet, cradling her in his arms. She stiffened up and then relaxed after a moment, his hands sliding up and down her back comfortingly.

"I won't hurt you, my love. Shhhh... it's alright... everything will be alright..."

He looked down at her beautiful face to see her staring up at him. Her big eyes were full of wonder. She didn't remember him, not exactly, but she wasn't afraid of him. He had the strange feeling that she had taken a liking to him, on his own merits. She definitely liked looking at his face and his eyes. He felt warmth flood his insides at the thought.