Layton looks at me expectantly. “Forgive me, Your Highness, I would have cleaned up if I had known to expect a visitor.”
A skinny black cat winds around my ankles. I step away. The damned animal curls around my leg again, meowing. How did the damned thing get in here?
“Lord Layton, would you like to be pardoned for your crime?”
“Is that a trick question?”
I shake my head.
He chuckles. “I’ve become accustomed to my humble surroundings. The rats aren’t so bad if you eat standing up and don’t drop any crumbs. Keep your cell tidy, and the mice won’t visit. There’s not much to be done about the mold, though.” His eyes shoot to mine and hold. “What must I do to gain my freedom? Kill a rival prince? Fight a fae beast?”
“Worse. Marry a harridan of a woman.”
Lord Layton laughs outright. The cat won’t leave me alone. Her rusty purr vibrates against my calf.
“Is that supposed to be a hardship?”
“She has the most vicious tongue in all Belterre, and she’s ugly to boot.” There’s no point in trying to gloss over Drucilla’s flaws. “She’s been using magic to glamour her looks for so long that I don’t believe she would recognize her own face if she saw it in a mirror. She’s cunning, vain, and desperate.”
“Is she at least kindhearted?”
“Not remotely. Plus, her foot is mangled.” I leave out the part about how that happened. “The healers couldn’t repair the damage, but she should be able to walk with a cane.”
“Canes can be elegant.”
He doesn’t seem to notice the cat. I don’t like animals, but for some reason, I bend to pick it up. The creature settles in my arms, vibrating with a purr.
“If you agree to marry this wretch, sight unseen, tomorrow at midday, you may be freed this evening to be cleaned up. Once you have held up your end of the bargain, your name will be cleared and your land returned to you. You will pay your taxes fairly henceforth.” I stroke the animal’s soft fur. “You must be a truly incompetent hunter to be so thin when prey is everywhere,” I tell it.
“I agree to your terms.” He squints at the cat. “Never seen one around here before. Must’ve slunk in through the bars. Lost, is my guess.”
The little creature follows me with unwarranted optimism as I exit the prison with Layton in tow. I turn him over to Othmar to get cleaned up and properly dressed. I missed dinner for this visit. I’m not sure how I will convince Drucilla to agree to a marriage she doesn’t want. The stubborn woman would thwart me just for entertainment.
I must find something she wants. Use it as leverage. What does she like?
Money. Magic.
I could offer her a supply of glamours to conceal her maimed leg. The other sister will want them, too, but that can be arranged. As long as they keep using the stuff, I can always threaten to have them arrested for possession of illegal potions if either Tremaine sister gets out of hand.
“What am I going to do? Think, Alistair. You’ve been in tight spots before and you always managed to fib your way out of them.” Yet this time, I promised not to lie.
I set the cat down on the floor of my bedroom. The scent of the supper I ordered brought up fills the room. The bed where I made love to Elinor just a few hours ago remains rumpled and unmade. I open the chafing dish cover and extract a bit of chicken, and bend to place it before the cat.
Only to find myself staring at a pair of black women’s boots.
“We meet at last, princeling,” a woman’s voice purrs.
20
ELINOR
“Where is Papa?”Stacia whines for the umpteen millionth time at dinner. Neither the king nor Prince Alistair deigned to join us, and while I’d be thrilled to never see Tremaine’s face again, I don’t like not knowing where my stepfather is.
Did he leave of his own accord? Has Alistair done something to him? The fact that I don’t know disturbs me. He said Tremaine was fine, but he wouldn’t quite meet my eye.
I keep glancing at the sun going down over the town below. The stone buildings are painted with a wash of orange and pink, the sky an ombre of deep-blue.
Beautiful.
