Chapter 14

From the doorway of the room, the guards that I'm fast becoming familiar with-Arden and Xavier-gape at us for a moment. They recover quickly, though, saluting to the man lounging in the chair beside me with simultaneous strikes of their fists across their chests.

Standing behind the two guards is an older man I've never seen before who peeks his lined, graying face into the room. He's holding a tray of food and a puckered, fearful expression on his face, unable to pull his gaze up from his shoes. I watch the trio, for some reason expecting the silent woman, Mitra, to come in after them. I feel my mouth turn down at the corners in surprised confusion when she doesn't.

"Commander, we didn't expect to see you here," Xavier's chestnut-brown head tilts back up taking in the scene around him.

"Clearly," The Commander drawls dryly, rising slowly, purposely from his chair. He doesn't move from his place beside my bed, though, his towering form preternaturally still. My eyes drift to him of their own will-bouncing back and forth between him and the three figures by the door-trying to make sense of the undertones as a silent communication passes between them.

The female guard, Arden, clears her throat uncomfortably, rubbing a tense hand along the back of her neck, "We have the Princess's dinner, but it would appear you're a step ahead of us your majesty-"

The King's voice is calm, but there's a volatile undercurrent to it, like the edge of a knife-dangerously still, "I need one of you to explain to me why it is that the princess has been sitting here in the dark without meals or check-ins for an entire day."

I can't help but glance up at him in shock and his stony expression turns, tilting briefly down to meet my own. The lines around his mouth and eyes deepen in his typically smooth face. Holding my gaze, he gestures a long finger down to my still overflowing tray of food, "You. Eat." He says to me in a low command, his hand flicking in a gesture to the food in front of me.

I do as he says, picking up the fork I'd all but forgotten about at the arrival of the guards and scoop a bit into my mouth. Only when I started chewing did the King turn his attention back to the trio shifting uncomfortably in the doorway.

"Well, you see-"

"What happened is-" They both rush to start at the same time, talking over one other. They glance at each other awkwardly before Xavier starts up again, turning back to the King.

"Mitra's son was one of those who were injured in the storm. With permission, she went to be with him as he recovered. In all the confusion following the storm, the kitchen staff were never informed of who her replacement was to be. We didn't notice this oversight until now." Xavier turns his attention to me, tilting his head in a show of apology that has my breath still in my chest, "My sincerest apologies, Princess. Your neglect wasn't intentional."

"It's alright," I tell him honestly, "Really. I'm fine."

The guards' eyes lift to me. Shock flits over both of their faces as if mystified by my easy acceptance, and unsure what to make of it. I'm feeling a little bewildered, myself, at the sight of their genuine remorse.

I fidget uncomfortably, going for my usual levity as I clear my throat awkwardly and say, "I meanI *am* your prisoner after all. I can't say I'm an expert in this, but isn't sitting hungry in the dark the standard practice in these types of situations?"

If I'd been bewildered before, it wasn't nearly to the extent I felt when Arden burst out laughing. A full belly laugh that's as rich and decadent as the chocolate cake. At the sound, Xavier also cracks a grin but tries to hide it behind one of his large palms.

"Touché, Princess Lucia." Xavier says when Arden's laugh abates.

From his place beside me, the King lets out a long low sigh, one of his large hands rubbing over his jaw, "You can have that tray you brought sent back to the kitchens and given to someone else."

The middle-aged servant who had been accompanying the guards bows quickly and without a word scampers through the doorway, bolting.

Arden, eyes the place he vacated, mystified, "A bit skittish, that one."

Beside me, Commander Lothbrook hums low in his throat by way of agreement. He raises a single black brow at the guards when they turn their attention back on him, "Was there something else?"

Xavier clears his throat pointedly, eyebrows coming together as if he'd nearly forgotten something important and couldn't understand how, "Yes, sir, I have a missive here that Captain Alfson asked me to deliver to you," he explains in a low voice. He pulls a scroll of paper from the lapel of his vest before crossing the small space in quick strides to place the paper into the King's waiting hand.

The King rolls open the parchment, eyes scanning over the word. As he reads, his body goes still. He crumples the paper in his large fist, expression unreadable as he crosses the room to toss the parchment into the flames. As the note turns to ash, he shifts his attention back to me, "Good news for you, Princess," he tells me, a sardonic twist to his mouth. The dark sheen of his devilishly sharp horns reflects the orangish light of the flames, as he says, "It would seem that your father has agreed to our terms. Tomorrow you'll be returning home."