“Have one of the guards send up the prisoner. I wish to speak with him.”
“Certainly, Your Highness... and, um, which... which prisoner were you wishing to speak with?”
Stefan's eyes narrowed to slits. The man had fallen into line quickly after the king's death, eager to do whatever necessary to save his own skin. His usefulness, however, was beginning to wane. Stefan spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to a confused child.
“The arrogant boy who attempted to steal my betrothed for himself. I believe his name was Brandt. He may have an idea of where the princess has gone.”
“Ah, Sir Edmund Brandt, yes, of course, Your Highness. I will have him brought up from the dungeons at once.”
With that, the man scurried out of the room like the rat that he was. Stefan tossed his drink back, enjoying the feel of the brandy as it burned his throat. Closing his eyes, he tried to think where the princess may have gone. Devon seemed the most likely choice, hoping to catch up to General Weston's army. If she did and was successful in finding the general's army, he would hear about it soon enough. The other option would be that she had headed east, toward Tallis. His gut told him not to discount the small, port city, and he'd sent Conrad, his best tracker, in that direction with a small group of soldiers in plain clothes.
“Plain clothes,” he grumbled under his breath, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. His father had ordered him to use as much discretion as possible in taking control of Eldour, in order to reduce the amount of peasant push back, as well as not drawing attention from the other kingdoms. Limiting the damage inflicted on the kingdom and making the princess his queen would ensure a smoother transition of power, or so he was told. If he had it his way, he'd smoke the insolent chit out by burning through the villages one by one until she surrendered herself.
“The prisoner, Your Highness, as requested.”
A guard stood at the door, where Edmund, in torn, filthy clothes, his hands shackled behind his back, was being prodded into the room. The man's face was pale, with several, dark bruises coloring his skin. The guard brought him before the prince and forced down to his knees.
“Sir Edmund Brandt.” Stefan sneered down at the young knight, who lifted his chin, meeting the prince's disdainful gaze with his own, defiant one. “I see your stay in the dungeons hasn't cured you of your arrogance. Pity.”
Edmund remained silent, his expression unreadable. Stefan tilted his head to the side, considering him. “The princess...” He paused, his lips twisting into a mocking grin. “My fiánce...” His grin widened at the flash of anger he saw pass through Edmund's eyes. “She's managed to slip past my guards, the little minx. I don't suppose you have any idea where she may have run to, hmm? Given how close you two were.”
Edmund spat at Stefan's boots, earning himself a kick to the shoulder blades from the guard standing behind him. He chuckled humorlessly as he lifted himself off the floor. “I have no idea where she is. If you haven't noticed, I've been in the dungeons this whole time, not aiding in escapes.”
Stefan's lips thinned into a line. “I'm well aware of your failure to protect your beloved ex-fiánce. That doesn't mean you wouldn't have knowledge of any potential hideouts... somewhere the princess might try to seek help? Tell me, and I'll see you removed from the dungeons.”
“Even if I did know of such a place, I would never betray the princess like that.”
Stefan sighed, turning his back on the man. “Take him back to the dungeons and work him over, see if he has anything of use for us.”
“With pleasure, Your Highness.”
The guard took hold of Edmund's shackles, pulling him to his feet with a rough jerk. Stefan waited until he heard the door close behind him, before dropping into a chair and pulling out the crumpled message he'd received during the night. Frustration built up inside him as he reread his father's words.
I cannot spare any more men than the ones I've already sent. You need to secure the princess as your bride immediately, and straighten out the mess you've made. Our new friend is less than impressed by the way you've bungled things, despite the priceless, enchanted object he so generously lent you. Do not fail me.
He crumpled the note in his fist and threw it into the fire. How was he supposed to hold the castle and find the princess without more soldiers to back him up? It was preposterous. And all because this new friend of his father's had whispered a few words into his ear, convincing him to send Stefan on this fool's errand.
His shoulders slumped as he stared into the fire. It didn't matter how preposterous the mission was, his father wouldn't tolerate failure, least of all from one of his sons. He would have to place his hopes on Conrad finding the girl. The man was a ruthless tracker. If anyone could find her, it was him.
Chapter Twenty
They continued on toward Tallis at first light, the women tucked away in the back of the wagon, with Hiram and Alex stationed up front. A few travelers passed them on their way, but aside from some nods and friendly hellos, no one paid them much interest. The wagon bed was more than a little crowded, and Josselyn was finding herself growing increasingly stir crazy. She sat at the very back, peeking out between the canvas flaps at the passing scenery.
Lily sat beside her, humming as she went about darning a pair of brightly colored stockings with a rip in them. She looked up as Josselyn's fidgeting increased and set her mending to the side.
“Have you ever been to Tallis before?”
Josselyn shook
