The mattress bent under Elana as David rolled to his stomach. He flinched as his right elbow landed on the bed, his bad shoulder protesting the abuse it had taken. He stretched with a groan.
She reached out and pressed the heel of her hand into his shoulder. He threw his head back and buckled onto his chest.
She climbed to her knees and massaged his back. “Here, rebel.”
He purred, eyes sliding closed. “Thanks, Princess.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaned in to kiss his ear.
“It’s not your fault.” He moaned as she hit a bad spot.
“I keep letting her near you.” She nuzzled him, and her heart twisted as he winced under the touch. “Today I’m going to do exactly what you said.” She pulled away.
“What did I say?”
“The only thing Cerces is doing wrong is stealing food.” She stood, ignoring the clothes they had abandoned on the floor the night before. Instead she pulled new leathers from her closet, and as she finished shrugging on the blouse, she felt David’s eyes on her back. She turned, but his expression wasn’t hungry; rather, soft.
He jerked when she met his gaze, and chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. The blanket slid off his equally naked form. “Excuse me, Princess.”
She caught herself doing it too. Her eyes raced over the rebel’s body, one still chiseled and forever scarred from his days in the gladiator circuit. Her eyes caught the glitter of silver wrapped around his left ankle. The shackle keeping him bound to her bedpost.
“It’s okay. Here, make yourself decent.” She drifted over to the pile of abandoned clothes, fished out the silver necklace with the key to his shackle on it, and tossed it to him. David caught it, donning a mask of disbelief, but Elana had gone back to her vanity, drawing out a tin and biting into another bitter leaf.
There was a click behind her, then a rattle as David’s shackle hit the hardwood. Elana watched him pull on his pants in the mirror. Every muscle in his torso rippled as he moved. Rough around the edges, but beautiful nonetheless, his shredded blonde hair falling over his face.
She pulled her own dark tresses out from under her shirt’s collar, undoing tangles from the night before. The myola leaves tasted terrible, but they’d keep her from carrying a rebel’s child. She’d be a laughing stock.
At least, for the time being.
She craned her neck. “Do you want a shirt?”
It startled David. Of course it did. He hadn’t been allowed one since she had torn off his bloodied one in his first hours with her. “Are you sure, Princess?”
Elana shrugged. “Taria asked me to ‘just get you dressed.’” Their faces both curled in distaste at the mention of the queen. “She didn’t define ‘dressed.’”
David straightened as she stood from the vanity. “Do you have anything that fits me?”
“I can look.” Elana flipped through her closet, slowing as she reached a few vests. “This seems about right.”
She freed one and brought it up to David, who took her hands in his as she pressed the vest to his shoulders. He unbuttoned it, then Elana spun him around and helped him shrug it on. From there, she tugged the silver necklace from David’s grip and wrapped it around his neck.
David stepped toward the vanity, twisting to see the fit of the fabric. It didn’t do much to hide his form, but from the way he smiled it meant the world. He turned and wrapped still-bare arms across Elana’s shoulders. “I appreciate this.”
“It’s something basic, David. You’re owed as much.” She hopped up to kiss his forehead, sneaking a quick tickle of his exposed underarms. “I have to go be a princess. You stay safe.”
“All right, Princess,” he snickered, and made for the bed.
Elana ducked outside, pressing a hand to Aldien’s breastplate. “If anyone comes through here, warn David. He isn’t shackled.”
Aldien’s eyes widened, but he nodded all the same.
Elana straightened her shirt and swept into the hallway toward the war room.
It was as dark as ever. A single wavering lantern set in the middle of the main table lit the room. General Cilen had her eyes downcast, twisting her pointer between her fingers. Elana tightened her lips at the board behind her.
The border of Cerces had expanded, not retracted. Crosses marked skirmishes… lost skirmishes. The army was falling back. Another village had gotten caught in the crossfire. Had they made their peace with Cerces? Had they been overrun?
Elana stepped to the board and traced the border with one hand. “What’s the latest from the front?”
Cilen looked up. “It’s as it looks, Highness. Our army’s overstretched. We’re being decimated everywhere we’re attacked.”
“From what I’ve gotten out of David, Cerces relies on diplomacy to recruit people.” Elana ran a finger around a small patch of yellow on the map, along the war front. “These are fields, no? Set soldiers there. Deter the rebels from cutting through the crops and slow the expansion.” She glanced at the general. “It should also keep our food supply safe.”
Cilen’s eyes grew wide. “This is too much, Highness. Are you sure?”
“The goal of Cerces is to save lives. They won’t charge through villages, and if the army just camps in the fields— not charges, camps— we can slow them down until we can find a long term solution.”
“Your goal isn’t to wipe them out?”
Elana turned to her, still leaning on the board. “Do you want to wipe them out?”
“I— ah…”
“You can answer honestly. I’m not my stepmother.”
Cilen fidgeted with her pointer once more before shaking her head. “Astal needs some real change.”
“I feel the same way.” Elana touched the map again. “In a few more days they’ll reach the capital.”
“Yes. And if they do, Highness?”
Elana pursed her lips. “We let David be David.”
Cilen’s jaw fell wide. “You’d set him free?”
“I trust him.”
The general hesitated, then nodded. “If you think it’ll help, Highness.”
“Do you think Taria will let me take the throne? Even if Father appoints me heir?”
“What you’re suggesting is treason, Highness.”
“On whose part?”
“It will be a rebellion… and a coup… at the same time.”
“Are you against it, General?”
The door slammed open. Taria stormed in, sweeping up her dress’ skirt. “Why did we lose that last battle?”
Cilen faltered. “We were outnumbered three to one—”
“You are choosing the wrong soldiers to fight those battles! How dare you put weaklings on the front lines!”
“It’s not the fault of my soldiers, Highness. It’s the tactics.”
“You don’t talk back to me,” Taria seethed. “My tactics will stop Cerces’ advance.”
Elana folded her arms before the general got into deeper trouble. “It seems like it’s helping them move faster. I’ve offered her one of my own plans to see if it works any better.”
Taria dropped onto one of the conference chairs. “It won’t.”
“We’ll see.”
“Let me guess. That little son of a bitch gave you this plan?”
“Yes, actually. We’ll abuse Cerces’ diplomacy.” Elana shot a smile at the general before making her way to the door. Behind her, Taria stood, stepping past the general to read the tactics board.
“Highness?” the general called over Taria’s shoulder.
Elana stopped halfway out of the door. “Yes?”
“The answer to your question… I’m not. I’m not against it.”
Elana smiled again, nodding as the door closed. As soon as it thudded behind her, she stifled a shriek, bouncing on her heels in the middle of the hallway.
She had David. She had Aldien. And now she had at least some of Astal’s army.
She came tearing down the corridor, skidding to a stop outside her quarters. Aldien froze as she hopped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, then she kicked open the door to her bedroom.
David had his back to the door. He had half turned around when she tackled him about his stomach, something clattering out of his hands and under the bed. He staggered, then toppled under her weight onto the plush carpet between the vanity, closet, and bed. “Ah, Princess, what’s going on?”
Elana straddled him, half-heartedly pinning his wrists to the floor. “If we want the kingdom, rebel, it’s ours to have.”
“Ours,” he echoed, an eyebrow shooting up.
“Yes, ours.” She leaned her weight on his wrists in earnest.
“I think it was mine first.” David shifted under her, then with a thrust he forced her to the carpet. She lost her grip on his left hand, which he brought to her side.
“I’m sorry, but who’s the princess here?” Elana brought down her freed hand and pressed her thumb to his exposed underarm.
He snickered. “I’m the prince.”
“You’re the<i> rebel.” </i>Elana brought down both hands to pinch at his sides. David barked a laugh, shocked, then rolled on top of her, trying to use his weight. Instead Elana lunged for the sensitive scar on his stomach and poked his navel. He shrieked and collapsed, arms buckling, and Elana wiggled her torso free.
He had weight. But she knew his body back, front, and sideways.
She clawed into the spot where the scar wrapped around his side, the spot that had driven him to silent laughter so many times. He rolled with a spasm, now belly up in her lap. A very sensitive belly.
Elana dug in. He howled, twitching, with experimental lunges at her sides. He’d land a pinch, she’d bend over laughing, but she could knock him away with one hand and keep driving him to helplessness with the other. After a long moment his eyes rolled back. Elana shoved him off her lap, grabbed one of the silk ties from the front of the bed, and clumsily bound his hands together. She leaned back, grimaced, then redid the knot into something David couldn’t undo.
She knew David well. He hadn’t blacked out, not really. He’d just gone limp while catching his breath. Elana was lucky to have had as much time as she did.
David sat up with a groan and wiped the sweat off his face, then noticed the state of his hands. “Motherfucker.”
“Stepmother,” Elana corrected, then snapped her fingers. “All right, you lost.”
David grunted. “Okay, the kingdom belongs to you.”
“This bedroom belongs to me.”
He stared. “What does that mean?”
“You have been accused of high treason. How do you plead?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His face dropped. “Not guilty.”
“You have been found guilty. The sentence for this crime is death.”
“I know,” David squeaked.
“The sentence shall be carried out at sunset.”
“But… but that’s now, isn’t it?” David fell to his knees. This was cruel. Cute, but cruel.
“It is. Rise.”
He struggled to his feet. Elana drew up his shaking hands, and he slumped against her, limp. Elana stared. They could take everything from David. They could pit him against gladiators twice his size, they could throw him in the deepest dungeons, they could torture him for years. He would never lose the flaming spark of hope that fueled the fury in his heart. But this empty threat did him in?
She clamped her hands on his shoulders, forced him straight, and frogmarched him back until his thighs hit the bed and he toppled over. He startled, then glared as she locked the furry shackle back around his leg and tightened the chain. “This is a fucking joke, isn’t it?”
“You are hereby condemned to death… by laughter.” She undid the binds around his wrists, returned him to the spread eagle they’d become so familiar with over the past week, and crawled to his side. “Any last words?”
With supreme effort David turned his head to her. “You royal bitch. I’ll sentence you to fucking death.”
“That one, I deserve,” Elana admitted, then undid the buttons on his new vest. David gave a muted groan before shrieking as she dug into his pelvis. Whipping his head he caught the rumpled comforter in his teeth, a futile effort to muffle his laughter.
“Why do you still do that, rebel?” Elana let up. “It’s us. I know what this does to you. You know what this does to you. And you still try.”
She knew why. It was his nature. But she wanted to hear it out of his mouth.
He spat out the fabric. “I… if the queen walks in on us again—”
She sat back, mouth open. Nature, yes, nature to protect. She lunged and captured his lips in hers, a hand in his hair to help. He groaned as she drove deeper, then left to trail down his chin and collarbone. “Elana…”
She sat up. He had gone from flushed to red. “You’re beautiful, David. Inside and out.”
He offered a dopey smile, his eyes sliding shut. “Thanks, Princess.”
She reached over to untie him as he dropped into well-deserved sleep. He curled up as she did, arms to his chest, and she smiled and did up the buttons of his vest. Leaving just the fur-padded shackle, she crawled next to him and threw an arm over his chest. He hugged it, sighing.
Elana smiled. The rebel had stolen half her kingdom, her chance at the throne, and now, her heart.
From the bedroom doorway, Queen Taria watched in stunned silence as Elana tucked her head into David’s shoulder.
She reached out and pressed the heel of her hand into his shoulder. He threw his head back and buckled onto his chest.
She climbed to her knees and massaged his back. “Here, rebel.”
He purred, eyes sliding closed. “Thanks, Princess.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaned in to kiss his ear.
“It’s not your fault.” He moaned as she hit a bad spot.
“I keep letting her near you.” She nuzzled him, and her heart twisted as he winced under the touch. “Today I’m going to do exactly what you said.” She pulled away.
“What did I say?”
“The only thing Cerces is doing wrong is stealing food.” She stood, ignoring the clothes they had abandoned on the floor the night before. Instead she pulled new leathers from her closet, and as she finished shrugging on the blouse, she felt David’s eyes on her back. She turned, but his expression wasn’t hungry; rather, soft.
He jerked when she met his gaze, and chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. The blanket slid off his equally naked form. “Excuse me, Princess.”
She caught herself doing it too. Her eyes raced over the rebel’s body, one still chiseled and forever scarred from his days in the gladiator circuit. Her eyes caught the glitter of silver wrapped around his left ankle. The shackle keeping him bound to her bedpost.
“It’s okay. Here, make yourself decent.” She drifted over to the pile of abandoned clothes, fished out the silver necklace with the key to his shackle on it, and tossed it to him. David caught it, donning a mask of disbelief, but Elana had gone back to her vanity, drawing out a tin and biting into another bitter leaf.
There was a click behind her, then a rattle as David’s shackle hit the hardwood. Elana watched him pull on his pants in the mirror. Every muscle in his torso rippled as he moved. Rough around the edges, but beautiful nonetheless, his shredded blonde hair falling over his face.
She pulled her own dark tresses out from under her shirt’s collar, undoing tangles from the night before. The myola leaves tasted terrible, but they’d keep her from carrying a rebel’s child. She’d be a laughing stock.
At least, for the time being.
She craned her neck. “Do you want a shirt?”
It startled David. Of course it did. He hadn’t been allowed one since she had torn off his bloodied one in his first hours with her. “Are you sure, Princess?”
Elana shrugged. “Taria asked me to ‘just get you dressed.’” Their faces both curled in distaste at the mention of the queen. “She didn’t define ‘dressed.’”
David straightened as she stood from the vanity. “Do you have anything that fits me?”
“I can look.” Elana flipped through her closet, slowing as she reached a few vests. “This seems about right.”
She freed one and brought it up to David, who took her hands in his as she pressed the vest to his shoulders. He unbuttoned it, then Elana spun him around and helped him shrug it on. From there, she tugged the silver necklace from David’s grip and wrapped it around his neck.
David stepped toward the vanity, twisting to see the fit of the fabric. It didn’t do much to hide his form, but from the way he smiled it meant the world. He turned and wrapped still-bare arms across Elana’s shoulders. “I appreciate this.”
“It’s something basic, David. You’re owed as much.” She hopped up to kiss his forehead, sneaking a quick tickle of his exposed underarms. “I have to go be a princess. You stay safe.”
“All right, Princess,” he snickered, and made for the bed.
Elana ducked outside, pressing a hand to Aldien’s breastplate. “If anyone comes through here, warn David. He isn’t shackled.”
Aldien’s eyes widened, but he nodded all the same.
Elana straightened her shirt and swept into the hallway toward the war room.
It was as dark as ever. A single wavering lantern set in the middle of the main table lit the room. General Cilen had her eyes downcast, twisting her pointer between her fingers. Elana tightened her lips at the board behind her.
The border of Cerces had expanded, not retracted. Crosses marked skirmishes… lost skirmishes. The army was falling back. Another village had gotten caught in the crossfire. Had they made their peace with Cerces? Had they been overrun?
Elana stepped to the board and traced the border with one hand. “What’s the latest from the front?”
Cilen looked up. “It’s as it looks, Highness. Our army’s overstretched. We’re being decimated everywhere we’re attacked.”
“From what I’ve gotten out of David, Cerces relies on diplomacy to recruit people.” Elana ran a finger around a small patch of yellow on the map, along the war front. “These are fields, no? Set soldiers there. Deter the rebels from cutting through the crops and slow the expansion.” She glanced at the general. “It should also keep our food supply safe.”
Cilen’s eyes grew wide. “This is too much, Highness. Are you sure?”
“The goal of Cerces is to save lives. They won’t charge through villages, and if the army just camps in the fields— not charges, camps— we can slow them down until we can find a long term solution.”
“Your goal isn’t to wipe them out?”
Elana turned to her, still leaning on the board. “Do you want to wipe them out?”
“I— ah…”
“You can answer honestly. I’m not my stepmother.”
Cilen fidgeted with her pointer once more before shaking her head. “Astal needs some real change.”
“I feel the same way.” Elana touched the map again. “In a few more days they’ll reach the capital.”
“Yes. And if they do, Highness?”
Elana pursed her lips. “We let David be David.”
Cilen’s jaw fell wide. “You’d set him free?”
“I trust him.”
The general hesitated, then nodded. “If you think it’ll help, Highness.”
“Do you think Taria will let me take the throne? Even if Father appoints me heir?”
“What you’re suggesting is treason, Highness.”
“On whose part?”
“It will be a rebellion… and a coup… at the same time.”
“Are you against it, General?”
The door slammed open. Taria stormed in, sweeping up her dress’ skirt. “Why did we lose that last battle?”
Cilen faltered. “We were outnumbered three to one—”
“You are choosing the wrong soldiers to fight those battles! How dare you put weaklings on the front lines!”
“It’s not the fault of my soldiers, Highness. It’s the tactics.”
“You don’t talk back to me,” Taria seethed. “My tactics will stop Cerces’ advance.”
Elana folded her arms before the general got into deeper trouble. “It seems like it’s helping them move faster. I’ve offered her one of my own plans to see if it works any better.”
Taria dropped onto one of the conference chairs. “It won’t.”
“We’ll see.”
“Let me guess. That little son of a bitch gave you this plan?”
“Yes, actually. We’ll abuse Cerces’ diplomacy.” Elana shot a smile at the general before making her way to the door. Behind her, Taria stood, stepping past the general to read the tactics board.
“Highness?” the general called over Taria’s shoulder.
Elana stopped halfway out of the door. “Yes?”
“The answer to your question… I’m not. I’m not against it.”
Elana smiled again, nodding as the door closed. As soon as it thudded behind her, she stifled a shriek, bouncing on her heels in the middle of the hallway.
She had David. She had Aldien. And now she had at least some of Astal’s army.
She came tearing down the corridor, skidding to a stop outside her quarters. Aldien froze as she hopped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, then she kicked open the door to her bedroom.
David had his back to the door. He had half turned around when she tackled him about his stomach, something clattering out of his hands and under the bed. He staggered, then toppled under her weight onto the plush carpet between the vanity, closet, and bed. “Ah, Princess, what’s going on?”
Elana straddled him, half-heartedly pinning his wrists to the floor. “If we want the kingdom, rebel, it’s ours to have.”
“Ours,” he echoed, an eyebrow shooting up.
“Yes, ours.” She leaned her weight on his wrists in earnest.
“I think it was mine first.” David shifted under her, then with a thrust he forced her to the carpet. She lost her grip on his left hand, which he brought to her side.
“I’m sorry, but who’s the princess here?” Elana brought down her freed hand and pressed her thumb to his exposed underarm.
He snickered. “I’m the prince.”
“You’re the<i> rebel.” </i>Elana brought down both hands to pinch at his sides. David barked a laugh, shocked, then rolled on top of her, trying to use his weight. Instead Elana lunged for the sensitive scar on his stomach and poked his navel. He shrieked and collapsed, arms buckling, and Elana wiggled her torso free.
He had weight. But she knew his body back, front, and sideways.
She clawed into the spot where the scar wrapped around his side, the spot that had driven him to silent laughter so many times. He rolled with a spasm, now belly up in her lap. A very sensitive belly.
Elana dug in. He howled, twitching, with experimental lunges at her sides. He’d land a pinch, she’d bend over laughing, but she could knock him away with one hand and keep driving him to helplessness with the other. After a long moment his eyes rolled back. Elana shoved him off her lap, grabbed one of the silk ties from the front of the bed, and clumsily bound his hands together. She leaned back, grimaced, then redid the knot into something David couldn’t undo.
She knew David well. He hadn’t blacked out, not really. He’d just gone limp while catching his breath. Elana was lucky to have had as much time as she did.
David sat up with a groan and wiped the sweat off his face, then noticed the state of his hands. “Motherfucker.”
“Stepmother,” Elana corrected, then snapped her fingers. “All right, you lost.”
David grunted. “Okay, the kingdom belongs to you.”
“This bedroom belongs to me.”
He stared. “What does that mean?”
“You have been accused of high treason. How do you plead?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His face dropped. “Not guilty.”
“You have been found guilty. The sentence for this crime is death.”
“I know,” David squeaked.
“The sentence shall be carried out at sunset.”
“But… but that’s now, isn’t it?” David fell to his knees. This was cruel. Cute, but cruel.
“It is. Rise.”
He struggled to his feet. Elana drew up his shaking hands, and he slumped against her, limp. Elana stared. They could take everything from David. They could pit him against gladiators twice his size, they could throw him in the deepest dungeons, they could torture him for years. He would never lose the flaming spark of hope that fueled the fury in his heart. But this empty threat did him in?
She clamped her hands on his shoulders, forced him straight, and frogmarched him back until his thighs hit the bed and he toppled over. He startled, then glared as she locked the furry shackle back around his leg and tightened the chain. “This is a fucking joke, isn’t it?”
“You are hereby condemned to death… by laughter.” She undid the binds around his wrists, returned him to the spread eagle they’d become so familiar with over the past week, and crawled to his side. “Any last words?”
With supreme effort David turned his head to her. “You royal bitch. I’ll sentence you to fucking death.”
“That one, I deserve,” Elana admitted, then undid the buttons on his new vest. David gave a muted groan before shrieking as she dug into his pelvis. Whipping his head he caught the rumpled comforter in his teeth, a futile effort to muffle his laughter.
“Why do you still do that, rebel?” Elana let up. “It’s us. I know what this does to you. You know what this does to you. And you still try.”
She knew why. It was his nature. But she wanted to hear it out of his mouth.
He spat out the fabric. “I… if the queen walks in on us again—”
She sat back, mouth open. Nature, yes, nature to protect. She lunged and captured his lips in hers, a hand in his hair to help. He groaned as she drove deeper, then left to trail down his chin and collarbone. “Elana…”
She sat up. He had gone from flushed to red. “You’re beautiful, David. Inside and out.”
He offered a dopey smile, his eyes sliding shut. “Thanks, Princess.”
She reached over to untie him as he dropped into well-deserved sleep. He curled up as she did, arms to his chest, and she smiled and did up the buttons of his vest. Leaving just the fur-padded shackle, she crawled next to him and threw an arm over his chest. He hugged it, sighing.
Elana smiled. The rebel had stolen half her kingdom, her chance at the throne, and now, her heart.
From the bedroom doorway, Queen Taria watched in stunned silence as Elana tucked her head into David’s shoulder.
