At Wren’s confirmation, Sir Walter sneers at him. “How noble of you.”
“Positively saintly,” Wren drawls. “Now, do you leave without damaging the rest of Lansing, or will my friend have to slaughter the rest of your men?” He nods at Quinn. “Do we have an accord?”
Sir Walter takes Quinn’s measure. “Rumor has it that you died in Haversville.”
“You would do well not to believe everything you hear,” Quinn growls. “And only half of what you see.” He leans in close to the captain and gives him a nasty grin that is more of a sneer than a smile. Let the man get a look at his eyes and the demon’s markings. “But occasionally, the storiesaretrue. Best heed those.”
Sir Walter, nonplused, gives him a curt nod. “Noted.” Then tightly says, “In the name of King John, I accept your terms.”
Quinn claps Sir Walter on the back. “Smart choice.” Then he drags his gaze over Rapunzel as if he’s memorizing every inch of her, just as she is right now. Her eyes wide and worried, cheeks flushed. Hands clasped in front of her. Stray strands of her golden hair worked free of the thick braid to frame her enchanting face.
By God’s teeth, I’m going to miss her.
Miss her and make myself sick with worry every moment she’s not in our sights.
“With that ugly business out of the way…” I sheath my sword and take Rapunzel’s hand to kiss her knuckles. We lock eyes, and I wish I could freeze time and hold it in my hands forever. “Your Highness, you were a worthy opponent.”
Rapunzel inclines her head. “As were you.” She pulls her hand from mine and shifts her gaze to my mother. Her sad little smile breaks my fucking heart. “I’m sorry I did not arrive sooner to save more of your town.”
My mother, who knows us better than anyone, gazes around Rapunzel to cast a suspicious eye at me. There is no way she believes we captured John’s daughter and are simply handing her over to his men. Not with Quinn here. She must know there is more to this, and when she looks back at Rapunzel, she does it with a knowing smirk. “Your Highness, never take responsibility for someone else’s behavior.” She glares at Sir Walter. “Just take this scum and go.”
Sir Walter guides Rapunzel to the door. Instinct must propel Wren’s feet because he follows. It’s Quinn who stops him by slamming an arm across his chest. A growled warning from him has Wren clenching his jaw and fisting his hands at his sides.
The remaining soldiers trail their captain and Rapunzel, their smirks galling. But it’s fine. We’ll remember their faces. They won’t survive our invasion of Newkirk, but if they’re not at the castle when we take it over, we’ll eventually find them. Either way, those pricks won’t live long enough to enjoy this moment of glory.
My knees weaken as I watch Rapunzel disappear from The Cup and Crown. I want to chase after her and drag her into my arms. Protect her like I’m supposed to do.
Because I was a fucking knight.
It’s what I trained for my entire life. I vowed to be honorable. To care for the innocent and the weak. Above all, to defend women.
Yet here I stand, helpless to uphold my sacred oath and safeguard the one person I love most of all.
My Rapunzel.
A glance at Quinn and Wren shows me they fight the same battle within themselves. How could they not when, from the open doorway, we see her seated on a horse? The young soldier mounts behind her. He wraps an arm around her waist, and I don’t see even a sliver of sunlight between their bodies. I’m sure if it weren’t for my mother’s soothing touch on Quinn’s shoulder, he would unleash the darkness inside him and kill these three men.
But he doesn’t, and instead, covers my mother’s hand with his blackened one and, without taking his gaze off of Rapunzel, says to Adele, “She was never our prisoner.”
“Of course she wasn’t.” My mother leans closer to him and rests her head on his arm, eyes knowing. “Something tells me you three were hers.”
Something tells me, as always, she’s right.
And then Rapunzel is gone. Riding off toward Newkirk, and in her absence—in the space where she should be—is a void so cold and so bleak, I finally understand how it must be for Quinn not to have a soul.
ChapterThirteen
“…that her?”
“The lost princess?”
“…spitting image of Queen Anne.”
“But for the blonde hair.”
Culbury is abuzz with whispered speculation as we ride in because, as my companion explained, rumors spread faster than a wild flame in Rygard. Word would have reached the surrounding towns that soldiers are in the area. Given who they’ve been searching for and that one party is traveling with a woman…
It’s easy to connect to the puzzle pieces.
