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I almost felt bad for them.
Just as Brentley began to address them, charging them with crimes against Donnelly but promising to pardon them if they agreed to bend the knee in allegiance to him, a voice hissed from behind me.
“Psst. Urban!”
I turned to find a wide-eyed Nicolette hovering in the entrance to a servant’s hallway not far behind me. Fidgeting like crazy, she looked scared out of her mind, so I hurried to her, clasping her arm.
“What’s wrong? Vienne—”
I’m not sure why I asked about my one true love, since I felt no trouble from her through my mark, but my worries always went first to her; I couldn’t seem to help it.
“No,” Nicolette said, shaking her head vigorously. “It’s not her. It’s me. I mean, my mark. It… It’s itching.”
I blinked in disbelief as her gaze moved toward the row of Far Shore prisoners.
Ah, fuck, no.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked, studying them frantically until her gaze latched onto one, and she breathed in amazement. “My one true love.”
Whimpering, she grabbed my arm, her fingers biting in hard. “Oh God, Urban. What do we do?”
Groaning, I closed my eyes and shook my head. This couldn’t end well.
Her eyes were glassy and wide with fear and awe as she stared fixedly at one specific prisoner.
From his throne, Brentley’s voice boomed, “Now, kneel. Or die.”
Immediately, all of the prisoners fell to their knees, except for four of them. Nicolette whimpered in distress. “No, no!” she groaned, shaking her head insistently. “What does he think he’s doing?”
“Let me guess,” I muttered dryly. “Your boy’s one of the four still standing.”
“Of course,” Nicolette muttered, narrowing her eyes and frowning. “The stupid, loyal idiot. He’s the tall, brown-headed one on the end there. God, he’s so gorgeous. Thank you, fate, for making him gorgeous.”
I sighed. Nicolette might never forgive her brother if he had her one true love executed.
Making a spur-of-the-moment—and probably extremely idiotic—decision, I stepped away from Nicolette, calling, “Brentley!”
Brentley paused in surprise as if I were crazy for interrupting him in the middle of his death sentence—which I had to agree, I was.
“I’m a bit busy at the moment,” he bit out.
“I know.” I bowed slightly, cringing at him. “Apologies for interrupting, Your Majesty.” Shit, I’d even called him Brentley, not Your Majesty, just a moment earlier, hadn’t I? That probably wouldn’t help matters for me. “But if I may… I need that one prisoner. Right there.”
Brentley blinked. “You...need him?”
I gulped. “Yes.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“I, uh…” I shrugged. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to…to question him for a bit.”
The king stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. I didn’t have another excuse to give, so I just lifted my eyebrows and shrugged, waiting to see if he’d comply with my wishes or not.
He sighed in exasperation but then nodded, waving a few fingers my way and granting me my request.
As a guard unchained the brown-headed prisoner at the end of the line, I glanced behind me, peering questionably at Nicolette. She nodded, letting me know I had the right guy.
So I turned back and thanked the guard who had separated the kid from the rest of the prisoners as he handed control of the chains over to me. With no idea how much the stranger might resist or fight now that he was free of the others and had a better chance of escape, I held on tight to his chains and marched him from the room, using another exit than the one Nicolette was waiting at.
