Princess of Silence: When Kings Collide, #1

By ID Johnson

A silent princess, a captive king, four realms at war....

 

Princess Katherine knows her hand has been given to sinister King Philip, but when she learns he's taken the ruler of a neighboring kingdom captive, she's compelled to discover King Matthew's location and set him free before it's too late.

However, with Matthew's brother King Caleb closing in on Philip's borders, Philip threatens to end Matthew. Katherine is running out of time. Saving Matthew without being able to speak proves complicated, especially when another woman assumes Katherine's identity, and the princess finds herself in chains.

At risk of losing everything, Katherine must overcome the traumas of her past and find her voice in order to free Matthew, prove she is the rightful princess, and ensure Philip pays for his ruthless acts. 

Is it possible that one of these kings may win her heart along the way?

Princess of Silence is a fast-paced romance set in an alternative medieval world where kings collide and women use their wits to prove they are more than pawns to be bartered with. Previously published as Deck of Cards, Princess of Silence has been rewritten and polished to create an epic historical romance that will stay with readers long after the final page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ID Johnson
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201264314

ID Johnson

ID Johnson wears many hats: mother, wife, editor, tutu maker, and writer, to name a few. Some of her favorite people are the two little girls who often implore that she "watch me!" in the middle of forming finely crafted sentences, that guy who dozes off well before she closes her laptop, and those furry critters at the foot of the bed at night. If she could do anything in the world, she would live in Cinderella's castle and write love stories all day while sipping Dr. Pepper and eating calorie-less Hershey's kisses. For now, she'll stick to her Dallas-area home and spending her days with the characters she's grown to love. After 16 years in education, Johnson has embarked on a new career, one as a full-time writer. This will allow her to write at least one book per month, which means many of your favorite character will have new tales to tell in the upcoming months. Look for two spin-off series of The Clandestine Saga, one staring Cassidy Findley and another involving backstories for your favorite characters. Johnson will also produce several new historical romance novels and a new sweet contemporary Christian romance series as well.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Darkness filled the room, clinging to the furniture and the walls, denying any light to penetrate, except for one pinpoint seeping its way through the keyhole of the solid oak door. Princess Katherine Helberg of Nadoria braced herself for a moment, taking a deep breath and slowly sinking into reality. It was thunder that had awoken her; it must have been, not the bone-rattling vibration of cannon fire, as she had experienced in her dream.

For a brief moment, she contemplated rising and attempting to verify that the source of her momentary panic was indeed the weather. But doing so would mean wandering into the hallway by herself, and that was not something she was willing to do without the promise of daylight. As she lay in the darkness, listening to the soft rise and fall of her lady-in-waiting’s breathing next to her, she was once again reminded of how much she hated her present situation, how desperately she wanted to return home, leaving this miserable, windowless, prison of a room and its surrounding layers far behind.

Gathering the edge of the blanket in her hand and giving a small tug to cause Joan du Bois to release a bit, she rolled over, unsure whether the extreme darkness was because her eyes had actually fallen shut again or if it was just the horrid room she now dwelt in. As dark and damp as it was at night, without a window, even the sunniest of days had little effect on changing the ambience. She heard another rumble and determined it was certainly thunder that had woken her, nothing to worry about, and contemplated going back to sleep.

It was a risky proposition, especially now that the nightmares had already begun, but then, so was staying awake. In the pitch black, it was more difficult for the shadows to form into shape-shifters. Perhaps the only positive to living in such an environment was that the ghoulish faces and bone-white fingers that had reached from behind the curtains in her own room back home each night were not able to penetrate this thick veil of blackness.

She missed Nadoria desperately and was willing to do anything to return, but she was thankful that she was no longer haunted each night while she was drifting off to sleep. No, here at Castle Blackthorn it was only when she was dreaming that she was haunted by the distant sound of cannon fire growing closer, the ghastly demonic face that stared at her through the eyes of death, and the inhuman shriek that infiltrated nearly every dream she had dreamt since she was four years old.

Sprays of ice-cold water flittered through the window, splashing over the haggard face of Matthew Caine, King of Zurconia, reaching into his deep sleep and pulling him back to where he lay in tattered bed sheets, unable to flee the attacking weather any more than he was able to escape the tower room he had called home for these last six months.

There were no curtains, no barrier at all to keep the precipitation out, nor did the thick granite walls of the precipice he teetered on keep him dry. They weren’t even windows, just arrow slits that had been chipped away at over the years by countless prisoners held here. He was certainly not the first, as one could tell by the odor left behind on his makeshift bed, and he had no reason to believe he would be the last. In fact, he was quite certain that he would be vacating the room relatively soon since his life had been threatened so many times recently.

In some respects, Matthew was very much ready to move on from this exhausting existence. He never would have imagined how much energy it took to do absolutely nothing. Though he despised his captor and would never show any sign of weakness when the malevolent King Philip of Clovington paid him a visit, his spirit had been broken even before he had been locked away in this tower. He hadn’t been himself since the night he was stolen from his home as his wife lay dying. Matthew hadn’t even been given the opportunity to tell her goodbye.

Another flash of lightning lit up the tiny room, illuminating the out-of-place bookshelf that took up almost as much space as his bed, and left him blinking and rubbing his eyes. He had been dreaming of her again, his sweet Margaret, and awoke to find himself still in purgatory with frigid pellets of water slowly soaking his sheets, his tattered clothing, his skin, his spirit. At the moment, he was even more angry to have been ripped from her arms than usual.

Sitting in the dark, Matthew’s mind began to wander back to when they had first met. Margaret was not yet queen when the pair agreed to marry. Her father, Stephen, who hailed from the kingdom Matthew was currently being held in, had lingered on his deathbed for weeks after their nuptials. The king had been carried out for the ceremony and then returned to the gold-leafed mahogany bed where he would later take his last breath.

Thunder shook the room as he remembered the first time he’d seen Margaret Diamonte, at a ball held in her honor. Matthew had never thought he would have the opportunity to marry for love. Being nobility almost certainly negated the possibility of marrying for anything other than what was best for the kingdom. Yet, the moment he first saw Margaret, he was instantly taken with her. She had been beautiful, though not in a traditional way. Her curly brown hair had a tendency to come undone around the crown of her head, forming a halo. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheekbones was particularly endearing to him. She laughed so softly that he wasn’t quite sure, at first, if she found his attempts at wit humorous, though he quickly learned that her soft tittering was simply part of her gentle nature.

It became clear very early on that Margaret’s personality was inherited from her mother, Queen Beatrice Jules of Zurconia, not Stephen Diamonte of Clovington. Beatrice was a princess, daughter of the King of Zurconian, but in her kingdom, a woman wasn’t allowed to be sole ruler of the land. So Beatrice had essentially abdicated the throne to her husband upon her arranged marriage to Stephen, who had only been a viscount, not even a duke. Exactly how that had come to pass, Matthew didn’t understand, but it had been a mistake.

When Stephen had become king, his older brother Ellias had been bitter and jealous of Stephen’s ability to scheme his way into power, even if it wasn’t in their homeland of Clovington. However, the jealousy had only lasted for a short time before an unusual and suspicious amount of deaths amongst the royal family of Clovington occurred. That and a fortunately timed wedding to a member of Clovington’s royal family had suddenly left Ellias as King of Clovington.

That, too, was short-lived as Ellias quickly met his own untimely (and equally suspicious) death, which handed the thrown over to his young son, Philip. Not quite of age at twelve, prior to his coronation, Philip’s Uncle Edward, Ellias’s younger brother, had served as ruler in his stead until Philip assumed the throne three years later at fifteen.

Matthew hadn’t known Edward at the time. But he knew him now. There was no doubt Edward was still every bit as power-hungry as his brothers, Stephen and Ellias, had been. This was evidenced by the influence he poured over Philip, and Matthew imagined that had been the case since Philip began his reign. Edward had sworn to avenge the honor of his oldest brother Ellias, which he felt had been robbed from him by the usurping nature of Stephen’s rise to power. It didn’t matter to Edward that he’d be taking the throne from his own niece, as Margaret and Philip were cousins.

Clovington had launched attack after attack on neighboring Zurconia, a kingdom that had always enjoyed a peaceful existence, and thus, had very little in the way of defenses. The citizens of Zurconia had done their best to defend their homes, but Clovington had advanced, bit by bit. Matthew had come into the situation too late to do much of anything, though he’d tried his best to build up the army. It made little difference as the kingdom began to slip out of his fingers. Then, one night in the bitterly cold winter just six months ago, only a few months into Matthew and Margaret’s reign, Castle Ringley had been breached. That was the same night his wife had been brutally murdered in front of Matthew’s eyes, and he had been carried away to this prison with little hope of rescue and an ever increasing wish for the relief of death.

Death was what had been promised to him--but not yet. There was one more little piece left in Clovington’s insidious plan. Philip had one more victim to draw out, one additional act of regicide to commit. And that was the only thing keeping Matthew alive. Preventing that act had become his sole purpose for continuing to breathe.

The lightning flashed again as the king adjusted on his cot, running his hands through his damp hair, wishing he was anywhere else in the world. If only there was someone on the other side of that locked door who could help him escape. Then, he could save his own life—and his brother’s.

Chapter 2

The morning after the storm, Princess Katherine awoke feeling groggy and irritable. Joan was still fast asleep when Katherine began to stir, and though it was impossible to tell the time in the windowless room without a clock, Katherine could tell by her own body that the sun was up, and she would most likely be safe to make her way into the hall.

She contemplated waking Joan, but she decided against it. She was fully capable of dressing herself in a simple gown and undergarments, so she did so and made her way silently into the hallway. Practically running to the window at the end of the corridor, she let the light embrace her and assure her that day had come. The princess was free from her lingering demons for the next several hours. Katherine took a deep breath, as if she was able to inhale the sunshine and absorb it. Once she finally felt she had basked in the morning glow long enough, she glided down the nearby stairwell, her stomach suddenly reminding her it was time to break her fast.

Walking along the dark hallways of Castle Blackthorn, Katherine considered how she’d come to this place. She had arrived at the castle a little over two weeks ago, but her wedding to King Philip had been negotiated long before she came of age, and she had known for several years that someday she would marry Philip and become Queen Katherine of Clovington.

Katherine had always been indifferent to the idea of marriage. She knew it was a necessity, since she was a royal, but it wasn’t something she looked forward to. In her experience, most men were cruel and took what they wanted when they wanted it, with the exception, of course, of her sweet brother Prince James and her brother-in-law Kenneth Pierce, Duke of Mountaque, who was married to her sister, Queen Eleanora. Kenneth’s title was still duke, not king. No, Eleanora would never yield the smallest amount of her power to anyone, not even her own husband.

Yet, Eleanora had no problem arranging this marriage for Katherine. Her sister’s hand was not such a hard bargain to drive. Even before Philip’s father mysteriously died, Eleanora had been in negotiations with other members of the royal family of Clovington, assured that a match between little Katherine and young Philip would create a blissful state of peace between Katherine’s beloved Nadoria and the warmongering Clovington.

Katherine had almost reached the kitchen. The scent of baking bread wafted through the air as thoughts of Nadoria had her missing her homeland. It was a port kingdom, bordered by a high range of mountains to the north with three deep bays to the west, allowing easy trade by sea with any kingdom with marketable goods. She knew why Philip had wanted to marry her. Nadoria would be an ideal ally to landlocked Clovington. Her sister’s navy was strong, as was the army that protected the Nadorian border. Katherine was a prize to be won.

Likewise, Nadoria would benefit from the guarantee of peace with its most threatening neighbor. Though Eleanora loved her much younger sister dearly, she had not hesitated to make arrangements that would benefit her kingdom, and the small expense of her sister’s potential happiness had been of little consequence at the time so many years ago. If Eleanora had it all to do again, Katherine couldn’t say for sure if she would make the same choice now, but it didn’t matter. The agreement had been signed years ago.

For all of those years, Katherine had been preparing herself for her journey to Blackthorn. She had been granted more time with her family throughout the years due to the constant state of war Clovington had been in for as long as she could remember. War meant home for Katherine, so each time she’d heard of Clovington attacking another neighbor, she had breathed a sigh of relief.

Since Katherine’s sixteenth birthday, almost four years ago, the halls of Castle Meadington had whispered with rumors that the time had come. With each rise in the wave of secreted remarks, Katherine braced herself for a summons to her sister’s court. However, those waves would crest, washed away by reports of battles raging on the northern side of Clovington, and Katherine would relax into her normal routine for a period of time until the walls began to speak her name in conjunction with King Philip again.

If there was a rumor, Katherine was sure to hear it. She knew every passageway, every tunnel, every dark nook and cranny of Castle Meadington, and she used this to her advantage. She did not consider herself an eavesdropper, but her virtual invisibility due to her diminutive stature and quiet nature allowed her to often go unnoticed in a crowded room. These characteristics lent themselves to her ability to find out information like no one else. Often, people tended to speak about Katherine as if she wasn’t present and make statements to her, or in front of her, that they would never want to hear repeated. There was a very good reason for this. No one ever worried about Katherine repeating anything because she never did.

Katherine was mute.

Passing a servant woman in the hall just outside the kitchen, the princess smiled warmly. In her plain dress, she realized the maid might not recognize her, which was all right with the princess. Smiling, the older woman said, Good morrow, and Katherine nodded in return, watching the woman slow and study her for a moment before hurrying on. It was a normal reaction, others waiting to see if she would respond to their greeting. Katherine tried not to let it bother her and ducked into the kitchen to find something to eat.

The kitchen staff was bustling about, preparing food for the other nobles who occupied the castle. Katherine never cared for an elaborate meal this early in the morning and was thankful Philip never invited her to such an event. She stood on the periphery a long moment and then waited to pluck an apple and a small loaf of bread from one of the baskets on the counter. No one seemed to see her, so she slipped them into her pocket and headed out the door, back into the halls of Castle Blackthorn.

Walking along toward her own chambers, Katherine thought about what her sister, Eleanora, had said to her upon her departure. The princess had been worried about meeting Philip for the first time, not knowing what he may think of her. Don’t worry, little one, Eleanora had said, addressing her as if she was the same four-year-old she’d been the last time Katherine had spoken. He will be taken aback by your beauty. Your eyes are the color of the ocean, your auburn hair as stunning as the rising sun. When a young man dreams of meeting a princess, it is a face like yours he wishes to see. You will not disappoint King Philip. Every man who lays eyes on you is instantly infatuated with your beautiful smile.

Katherine had grinned at her sister, glad to hear the queen thought she was so lovely, but it hadn’t truly set her mind at ease. While every citizen of Nadoria knew Katherine’s situation—that she didn’t speak—how would the aristocrats of Clovington react to her differences? More importantly, how would Philip? While she was certain her sister had explained the situation to him, hearing of her inability to communicate through spoken language and experiencing it for one’s self were two different things.

Many visitors from other kingdoms over the years had felt inclined to test the situation for themselves, and Philip had been no different. Katherine took a bite from her apple and thought about the day she’d met him in the throne room, here at Castle Blackthorn. She’d thought he was handsome, but her nerves had overcome her. She’d stood before him, her hands shaking beneath her cloak.

Philip had taken her in, his dark eyes piercing through her outer layer of clothing, and then began some polite conversation, including questions for which she could not nod or shake her head in response. Philip had seemed slightly annoyed at that first encounter, but he hadn’t been angry or disappointed.

That would come later, at dinner. Though Katherine had done her best to answer what she could, signaling when possible, it was truly up to her lady-in-waiting, Joan, to answer on her behalf. Joan was almost always by Katherine’s side for just this purpose, if nothing else, and while Philip seemed bothered by her presence at first, he eventually began to adjust his conversation to include questions that Joan could answer for the princess. Thus, Philip began to speak about Katherine in her presence as if she was not there. She was used to this as most people had done the same as far back as she could remember, but she had hoped it would be different with her husband-to-be. That first night, it had become apparent to Katherine that there was no chance that she could ever fall in love with King Philip.

This had only been mildly disappointing. She did not trust men as a general rule, and seeing Philip as a potential love interest would only complicate her feelings about members of the opposite sex. She did find him attractive, though. There was something about his rugged appearance, his strong square jaw, the way he commanded the room, which stirred feelings inside of Katherine that she had never experienced before. She couldn’t quite explain even to herself what this feeling was, but she noticed it each time he was near, and it both alarmed and excited her. This was further complicated by the fact that she quickly confirmed Philip was a terrible person, and she was terrified of being left alone with him, especially in the dark.

In the dimly lit passages of Castle Meadington, Katherine had heard stories of King Philip’s crimes against humanity, particularly against the citizens of Zurconia, their beloved queen, and her loving husband. She had thought, at the time, before she came to Blackthorn, perhaps these were just rumors. The people of Meadington liked to tell stories, to elaborate. The tales made her uncomfortable, but she did her best to stay true to the man she would marry and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Then, she’d come to Blackthorn and found they weren’t made-up stories at all. The same rumors she’d heard before she’d come to meet her husband-to-be echoed from the lips of the servants here when they assumed no one was listening. Though Katherine was indifferent to the idea of marrying Philip, or anyone for that matter, she did not approve of his tactics, and her heart ached for the captured king she knew dwelt somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. If Philip could be so cruel to King Matthew and his wife, who was to say he wouldn’t do something similar to her?

In the few days she had lived within the damp, moss-covered walls of the sprawling complex of winding passages, secret hallways, and cavernous tunnels known as Blackthorn, she had yet to discover where the captured king was being held. Just as she was able to pass almost undetected through the maze in her own home of Meadington, she quickly learned to navigate through Blackthorn without as much as an inquisitive glance from the other inhabitants. With little else to keep her occupied during the day, she had decided to use these skills to begin her quest to find King Matthew, though she had no idea what she might do if she were able to locate him. It wasn’t as if she’d ever have the power to set him free, not even once she became queen.

So far, she had only covered a small portion of the fortress, but she knew that, if she continued to use her ability to listen in on secretive conversations to her advantage, she would soon ascertain exactly where the widower king was living out his numbered days.

In the meantime, she knew Philip had plans to draw out Matthew’s beloved brother and finish him off in one apocalyptic battle. She heard members of the military discussing strategies behind closed doors and even in the hallway. His plans were faulty, however. Philip wasn’t winning this war as easily as he had when Zurconia had been the goal, and with the king preoccupied with defeating King Caleb of Arteria, it seemed Katherine’s wedding just might have to wait. The princess was not upset by this in the least.

Philip’s frustration at the situation came through in every conversation, every order, every flinch of his fist, and grimace on his handsome face. The walls were whispering again, and Katherine would use their information for her gain. She knew there was not much she would be able to do to help the captive king once his location was determined, but she felt compelled to find him as quickly as possible, and she had learned from experience to listen to that small voice inside.

Though it was still relatively early, the halls were beginning to bustle with activity. Katherine knew that she had been right to initially question whether those rumbles the night before had been of a more sinister nature. Something was astir.

When she’d first arrived, Philip had mentioned the possibility of spending a great deal of time with Katherine, but that had been nothing more than wishful thinking on his part. Katherine knew she probably would not see him much, if it all, that day. She might dine with him for the evening meal if his schedule allowed. If not, she’d eat in her own chambers with Joan, thankful that she was only required to share the company of someone she cared for.

Back in the more familiar area of Blackthorn, Katherine continued to munch on her apple as she made her way into the library. This was one of her favorite places at Blackthorn and one of the only rooms with enough natural light to be considered acceptable in Katherine’s opinion. She also found that, due to the close proximity to the war room, many interesting conversations took place in this space, often without any acknowledgement whatsoever that she was even present. She found out a lot of information from her fellow bibliophiles and spent many hours gathering tidbits while snuggled in a comfortable chair under the sheepskin blanket near the fireplace.

The princess selected one of her favorite books from a shelf by the window, assumed her normal seat, and almost lost herself in an incredible story from a far-off land just before she detected footsteps outside of the door. With hushed voices, two men entered the room, and her eyes ceased scanning the words while the story she was weaving quickly lost every ounce of fiction.

Katherine knew that Philip’s Uncle Edward was one of the men who had entered the room before she even heard his voice. Approaching sixty and suffering from complications from obesity, Edward carried around him a distinct cloud of odiferous objectionable identifiers. A pungent mixture of salve, herbal remedies, and body odor, Edward announced his pending arrival moments before he actually reached one’s field of vision. He also walked with a scraping limp, which would have aided even the weakest-of-nose in determining his identity before he drew near.

"The Tower at Glendor should have held. I cannot for the life of me understand how it was breached. Two thousand men. Two thousand men!" he spat at whomever was accompanying him. Katherine still could not tell who the slighter of the two men was, perhaps a leader of one of Philip’s armies or another of his advisors. She held her book still in front of her, the apple core in her hand dangling in front of her chin as she listened.

The two men were still out of her direct line of vision, but Katherine could see their shadows just inside the doorway. It was as if they had ducked in to speak in private, not realizing, or perhaps not caring, that Katherine was also in the room.

Yes, sir, the other man replied. Katherine heard the clanking of chainmail, an indicator that this man was part of Philip’s army. We believed the wall to be impenetrable, particularly so near the tower, but they found a way to get through. We had them outnumbered two-to-one! But, well, he stammered, apparently still unsure of exactly how to explain what had happened, once they broke the line, the troops began to fall back. I could not… we could not hold them.

Edward slammed his fist against the wall. Katherine jumped as the reverberation filled the space around her. They still did not take note of her presence. Listen, Cuthbert, he said, pounding the soldier on the arm, It does not matter to me what you thought could or could not happen. What has transpired is that the Arterian Army is pouring past our last line of defense. At the current rate, they will be standing in these very halls in less than two weeks. That does not happen. Re-gather your troops. Form a new last line of defense. Use the thick swamp of the Lowetian Forest to your advantage, and hem them in. King Philip may not understand the implications of this breach, but I do! There was another blow to the wall, this one even harder. Edward, unable to control his rage, grabbed Cuthbert and slammed him up against the hard oak door. This infiltration goes no further! Find a way to stop them!

Cuthbert grimaced, his air cut off from the large, gnarly hand near his throat. Katherine tried not to gasp as she watched the soldier struggling to breathe. Yes, yes, sir. I will.

Edward stared forebodingly at the smaller man. Good. He patted Cuthbert on the shoulder, a jarring motion that did not match his affirmative words. Good, you do that. You find a way. Or else, I am holding you personally responsible. He finally released Cuthbert, who reached up to rub his arm but thought better of it, though it was likely already beginning to ache. Now, let’s go up to the tower and pay our guest a visit. Let’s see if we can get him to tell us some information that will be helpful to our cause. Edward began his slow, cacophonous march out of the library and down the hall, Cuthbert behind him.

Katherine waited a moment for them to move away from the door. She knew they were going to see King Matthew, and she wanted to follow them, but she also wanted to avoid being detected. There was no way they would knowingly let her trail after them. At least now she knew Matthew was being held in one of the towers. Unfortunately, Castle Blackthorn had several ominous black towers with high, pointed parapets that jetted out of the structure like thorns. She heard Edward down the hall, approaching a turn, and decided it was time to follow.

Silently placing the book back on the shelf, she tossed the apple core out the window and then made her way to the door, peeking down the hall before opening it and slipping out. She could just see the heel of Cuthbert’s black military boot rounding the corner to the right. She knew that the hall only had one possible next turn, to the left, so she took extra precaution to be quiet as she made her way after them.

She almost didn’t make it to the end in time to see where the pair went. It was not to the left as she had anticipated. The princess watched as the two men created an opening in the wall. There had to be a secret button somewhere that caused the wall to slide open.

Katherine ducked around the corner, just in time to avoid being seen by Edward as he glanced over his crooked shoulder to make sure they were not being followed. Then, he and his still visibly shaken minion disappeared into what should have been solid stone, and the wall closed behind them.

Katherine hesitated. Knowing there was a secret passage in the wall got her that much closer to finding Matthew, yet following now could be extremely dangerous. She was not sure what might be on the other side of the secret door. It could be an easily navigable path that allowed her to follow in secret, or she could find herself in a situation where she was trapped. It would not be easy to explain what she was doing in a secret passage, especially without being able to speak, so she needed to be extremely cautious. Edward did not seem the type to show leniency to snooping newcomers.

She decided to wait. If Edward and Cuthbert came out the same way that they went in, there was a good possibility that she would be able to find Matthew without having to follow anyone. If they did not, that meant there were other secret passages here, and she may have more trouble. Nevertheless, she now knew two critical pieces of information: Matthew was being held in a tower, and the way to reach him lie somewhere within the walls of Castle Blackthorn. Katherine retreated back into the shadows, prepared to wait as long as necessary.

Chapter 3

Matthew sprawled on his straw mattress, attempting to avoid the prickly pieces of hay sticking out in all directions from almost every inch of the ancient, rotting material. He always had plenty of warning when Edward was making his ascent up the stairwell right outside of his abode. Either the stench would hit him full in the face first, or he would hear the thumping, scraping sound of his useless foot as he struggled to pull it up the stairs. Today, it had been the smell that reached him first. Matthew let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

Edward never visited alone. He always had one or two lackeys with him to do his dirty work. Just thinking about his last visit left Matthew rubbing his jaw and feeling for the healing gashes covering his back and shoulders. He did not look forward to Edward stopping by, but it usually meant that Caleb was winning, and if Caleb was winning, then, perhaps, he would be free soon.

Or, on the other hand, if Caleb was winning, it might mean Matthew was soon to meet his executioner.

Either way, he wouldn’t be spending too much more time in this filthy hovel, so Edward’s visits were not as negative as one might think.

There was no way for Matthew to actually see who was at the door. Only a small slot, surrounded by black iron, broke the solid wood, and it was covered by a swinging door. Once a day, some poor hack from the kitchen would slide him a small portion of gruel through the opening. That was his only contact with the outside world, other than visits from Edward or Philip.

If the king really wanted to know who was coming, he supposed he could get down on his knees and peek through the little slot to view the person’s shins, but there wasn’t much sense in that. So he waited patiently for Edward to make his way to the top of the stairs, curious as to whether or not the jingling of chainmail was one lackey or two.

A rattle of keys, a little huffing and puffing from his primary captor, and the door flew open, bringing with it a new waft of putrefied air. Matthew stayed sitting on his crude bed, not bothering to stand as Edward and his companion, a new face to Matthew, though surely as inconsequential as all of the other minions before him, made their way into the small, circular room.

This new person stared at Matthew as if he was expecting something else, as if he had no idea what six months of confinement and torture could do to anyone, even a king. It took a quick blow from Edward to make the younger man remember himself.

Well, Your Majesty, Edward began in his snarly croak of a voice, how did you get along in the storm last night?

Slept like a baby, Matthew chided. He still didn’t move. No reason to waste energy on these two, not yet.

I find that very unlikely, Edward said, his eyes flickering from the soggy bed sheets to the puddles still accumulated under the arrow slits on the floor.

Matthew ignored him, sitting with his knees bent, arms hung loosely as if nothing horrible was about to happen.

Matthew, this is my…. Edward seemed to be struggling for the right word, and Matthew wondered why, though he wasn’t about to ask. Associate, Sir Reginald Cuthbert. Perhaps the nearness of the Arterian Army had Edward questioning his relationship with a commander in his own kingdom’s defenses.

Cuthbert slowly nodded at Matthew, his demeanor beginning to change, as if he was suddenly remembering that he was an officer in the army, a man of power, a man with a purpose. And his purpose just now was to hurt King Matthew of Zurconia, to hurt him and make him pay for his brother’s recent victory.

Occasionally, Matthew would entertain himself by acting overly formal when being introduced to one of the men whose sole purpose in meeting him was to beat the bloody hell out of him. Today, he was not in the mood. He was ready to just get it over with. He met Cuthbert’s eyes with an equally steel-like stare, held his gaze for a moment, and waited for the other man to look away. It did not take long. Cuthbert was weak. No wonder Caleb was able to decimate his army so easily. If only Matthew had had any sort of understanding of the forces he was dealing with before Zurconia was overrun by these ill-trained, but staggeringly plentiful, barbarians, perhaps he would not be sitting a captive today.

Edward seemed to notice Cuthbert’s state of intimidation and became even more irritated. Nevertheless, Matthew was about to pay for his brother’s transgressions, even if Edward had to mete the punishment out himself. We are in need of your assistance, Your Royal Highness, Edward stated, his words dripping with sarcasm and loathing. It seems that your older brother has somehow gotten his hands on some very important architectural renderings of battlements. Perhaps, you might have some idea as to where he obtained these sketches and what other information he may have managed to procure.

Matthew chuckled loudly, despite the fact that he knew it would only anger Edward, which it did. He laughed even more to see Edward’s jaw tense up and a bright hue of red begin to creep up his wrinkly, wart-covered neck. I apologize, but I really cannot be of assistance with that. However, it is nice to know Caleb has his sources.

Matthew actually didn’t believe for a second that his older brother was able to gain victory because some disgruntled member of the royal family had leaked information to him. No, he was quite sure that Caleb’s army would be able to defeat Philip’s troops in almost any circumstance simply because Caleb was hell-bent on releasing Matthew from this prison. That, and there simply was no stronger military mind in the world than Caleb of Arteria.

It was just a matter of time.

For now, it seemed Matthew was out of that particular commodity.

The king watched between narrowed eyes as Cuthbert removed a gauntlet and stepped forward. Matthew braced himself for what he knew was coming. There was little he could do but sit and take it, and as the soldier raised his hand to swing, the captive king held his gaze. This may be Edward’s only measure of satisfaction, but Matthew refused to let them see him flinch.

If Katherine had been praying for a sign, then surely she had received one, although this was not exactly what she’d had in mind. She’d waited about an hour for the two men to finally come out of the secret tunnel in the wall. Interestingly enough, the stone she needed to push so that the wall would open up had actually moved when Edward and Cuthbert came back out, so she was easily able to tell what she needed to do to find Matthew. Beyond that, they had left a trail, a sticky, red, coagulated trail. Dark crimson splashes lined the floor all the way up the secret staircase, turning and winding, sometimes dripping from one cold stone step to the next, leading right to a solid oak door with a slight slit, just wide enough for a small dish. Behind it, even from her position several steps from the landing at the top of the stairs, she could hear what sounded like muffled moans coming from the poor soul locked on the other side.

It was the king in there; she was sure of it. Katherine stood perfectly still at the top of the stairs and pondered her next move. She could hear his moans shift into something she hadn’t expected at all. It sounded like laughter, as if he had lost his mind entirely and somehow found the situation humorous. The blood on the floor had to be his, yet King Matthew was laughing.

You’re losing, he said quietly, and Katherine caught her breath, wondering if he had heard her. She quickly realized he was talking to the two men who had just left. You bastards are losing, and the only way you can make yourselves feel better about the situation is to beat the hell out of me. Well, go ahead! Caleb will be through your flimsy defenses in a matter of days! A matter of days!

He was yelling now, and Katherine suddenly felt as if she were intruding. He had no way of knowing she was there, that she was listening to him. He said a few swear words before he asked aloud, What the hell did you do to my head? Damn, so much blood. Blood everywhere. Sons of bitches.

She wished she could help, that she could do something to stop the bleeding and end the pain for him, but she hadn’t brought anything with her, and she couldn’t get inside of the cell anyway. Realizing that finding King Matthew had done neither of them any good, Katherine let out a sigh and took a step back away from the door.

Is someone there?

He’d heard her. Somehow, he’d noticed her. No one ever noticed her, and yet, this king, who was being held against his will on the other side of a thick door, bleeding profusely, had taken note of her existence. Katherine’s eyes widened as she stared at the door.

He called out again. Pardon? Is anyone there?

The princess couldn’t decide whether to move forward, toward the door and the man who needed her help, or to back away down the stairs—to what should’ve been considered safety. She stood frozen for a long moment, listening to her shallow breaths and to Matthew’s raspy ones from within the chamber. Then, Katherine did the only thing she could do; she turned and hurried back down the stairs, hoping her footsteps were undetectable both to the king and to anyone who might be walking past the invisible passage in the hall outside of the door.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she took a moment to catch her breath before she slowly pushed the heavy door open. Glancing through the crack in both directions, she saw no one, so she crept into the hallway, shutting the wall behind her. Now that she had found the captive king, Princess Katherine had some decisions to make, and nothing about what would come next would be easy.

Blood soaked the so-called mattress, as well as the sheets, and was pooling on the floor next to the bed. Cuthbert may have seemed like a complete pussy, but once Edward had made him mad enough, the soldier had unleashed some devastating blows. In fact, Matthew was confident the wound to his scalp was significant, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to remain conscious.

Edward had needed to pull Cuthbert off of him when merely ordering his attacker to stop before he killed