The Crowned Captive

“You know what, Lorenna, I am sick of men. I am sick of all of them and their stupid feelings and their stupid irresistible bodies,” Morana proclaimed as the lady’s maid braided her hair. She was rewarded with a dull snort in response.

“Morana, I think you will find you are sick of one particular male and all the strings he has attached,” Lorenna replied, giving her a knowing grin in the mirror.Morana rolled her eyes, hating how right she was.

“Well that particular one is extremely irritating, and his stupid emotions do not help.”

“I feel like there are some certain things that he helps with,” Lorenna whispered, and it was Morana’s turn to blush then. She swatted at the other woman, who merely laughed and danced out of her reach.

Having grown rather fond of her trousers, Morana was unimpressed with being stuffed back into a dress. At least her rib cage wasn’t being bruised by a corset. No, instead Lorenna had dressed her in a gorgeous lavender gown. It was a gorgeous thing, with billowing sleeves she could stuff her arms in to protect against the chill in the hallways, and a deep neckline that left her mother’s pendant sitting squarely between her breasts. Thankfully, it was also made of a material with some give, for she would soon find herself working on keeping her mouth full so she did not have to try and strike up some form of conversation with the king. At their first meal together she had already eaten more in one sitting than she had in her life.

Beside her, Rowan spoke of how well she had been handling the life of a royal. Her quick tongue and wit made her a natural. Not one of the men or women in charge of wartime preparations had been left entirely happy with their work, but how that equated to good leadership she did not know. She did feel it gave her the air of a know-it-all, being younger than all of their children yet parading around like she knew what she was doing.

“I hear from Rowan that you may be reconsidering some of your guard, Morana?” The king suddenly spoke, and she was glad for the excuse of her mouthful of food for a moment of silence. Beside her, Rowan stilled.

“I am unsure of what he is referring to, Father,” Morana began, hating how the word sounded in her mouth but knowing it would keep him happy. “I have been happy with all of their work and diligence.”

She forced herself to keep her irritation from her face as Rowan shifted beside her. She knew exactly whom he would have been referring to, as did the king. But apart from the strain of Rowan’s ever-looming jealousy, her and Cordan’s friendship had gone more-or-less back to normal.

“His feelings for you aren’t appropriate for that of a guard, Morana,” Rowan finally chimed in. He knew Cordan stood outside the door diligently, likely hearing every word, but did not seem to care. Morana turned to him then, levelling him with as dark a stare as she could manage.

“His feelings are unreciprocated, as both you and he knows, Rowan. If anything, he has fought more fiercely to protect me for their presence.”

“She does have a point, Lord Greenfeld,” King Victor interjected, a slight smile on his face. “People’s affections can be used for the benefit of the kingdom. If the people see our princess as alluring, with men falling over themselves for her attention, they are more likely to revere her. As long as she keeps her attention on those that benefit the crown, I do not see any harm in it. Of course, she will require a new trainer for swordplay if you insist on continuing it.”

Clenching her jaw, Morana fought the argument rising in her throat. She felt a pang of guilt for Cordan standing outside, listening to his fate being discussed like he was insignificant. She could not help it though, not whilst Rowan was still ordered to watch her every movement as if she would ruin everything she touched. Knowing continuing the conversation would only lead to frustration and her looking foolish, she chose to shovel more food into her mouth. In her anger, the taste of the succulent roast pork was lost to her tastebuds, but it at least had some substance to grind her teeth upon.

The infuriating meal finished, and Morana was glad to escape. She did not miss that Cordan did not look at her as he fell into conformation with the rest of the guards around her, nor the fact that Rowan smirked at that. Oblivious to her anger at him, he stalked forward like a prince already crowned. The second he moved through her door before her, presuming his actions for the night regardless of her mood, her anger came to a peak.

“Get out,” she spat, savouring the look of shock on Rowan’s face. He swallowed, the look changing from shock to confusion.

“Morana, I was not intending to make you angry. It was a genuine concern for your safety-”

“No,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear his fake apologies. “You were jealous, and instead of talking to me, you superseded me to try and get your little plan to work. Instead of acting like the lord you are meant to be, as well as my advisor, you acted like a child who didn’t want his things touched, regardless of my feelings and my capabilities of saying no. Cordan is not the issue here.”

Rowan stood staring at her blankly for a long moment, and she was chaffingly aware Cordan was still standing behind her. The hall was silent as she stood in the doorway, waiting for Rowan to make a move. His face grew dark, and she knew at that moment that her argument was not going to be finished sensibly. With a huff, she stalked inside and moved to her dresser to get out of the damned dress. She was far from in the mood to wait for Lorenna’s assistance.

“You and I both know your primary concern is not her well-being, regardless.”

Morana’s spine stiffened at Cordan’s voice echoing through the rooms behind her but she did not stop. Hidden through the doors of her bedroom, she began changing as the tension built outside.

“I believe you should shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” Rowan spat, and she heard utter malice and threat in that voice. That was not a voice he had used with her, no matter how many times she had pushed his buttons or brought him to fury. That was a voice unlike any she had heard, one only an enemy would deserve.

“What, don’t want Mor finding out your little secret? I have a genuine concern for her safety without her knowing it.”

“I don’t care what was previously between us, I will kill you where you stand, brother,” Rowan spat. Finally, she pulled her boots on and sheathed her dagger against her thigh, not wanting to bear their bickering any longer. She stalked from her room to see Rowan having drawn his sword, the point of it against Cordan’s throat.

“Tell me what he is talking about Rowan. Now,” she spoke, her voice quiet. Rowan looked over his shoulder, his face thick with worry. For the first time since meeting him, he seemed genuinely scared for himself.

“Please, princess, it’s not like it sounds. I mean, at first, it was, but everything has changed.” He pleaded, the tip of his sword quivering slightly with his shifted attention. Cordan looked at it as if it was a plaything.

“That was an order, Rowan,” she spat. When he did not answer, she turned to Cordan.

“Rowan’s life ambition is for the crown, and without an heir that prospect was attainable. Enough ass-kissing, and eventually the king may feel fondly enough of him to name him heir in lieu of a blood relative. When it came to fruition that there was an heir, and she was someone fond of men, what easier way to get that crown than by fucking his way there? Anything that threatens his little plan, brother or not, has just been an obstacle since.”

The words were like a slap in the face. Morana took a step back, the weight of them sinking into her skin. She looked at Rowan and watched as he dropped his sword and stepped towards her, as if to comfort her, to try and explain everything. At that moment, she could not care less about what he had to say. She retreated another step, and then her aching heart hardened over and all she could feel was anger once more.

“Nobody follows me. That is an order,” she spat, stalking from the room. Behind her, she heard the clash of metal on metal. Presumably, Cordan was keeping Rowan at bay. She knew it would not keep him long, but was grateful for the head start anyways.

The castle halls melted away behind her as she worked out of the warren, finding herself at the exit that overlooked the training field. She looked at the forest and turned up her nose. That was not the sort of thing to get her anger out tonight. She turned, feeling eyes in the darkness beyond the tree border, and aimed around the castle for the city instead.