Princess of Silence, page 3
part #1 of When Kings Collide Series
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 their one asset had done nothing but make Cuthbert hit him harder. Matthew was also bleeding from a gash above his eye, the blood creating a veil, making it difficult to see. As soon as the pair had left, Matthew had collapsed on the bed, hoping to lose consciousness, part of him praying he could lose it for good.
His emotions were all over the place, and he couldn’t help but shout about the injustice, though he knew his assailants were long gone. Just as he’d begun to calm down, he thought he’d heard a quiet footfall on the stairs. He’d braced himself for a moment, afraid perhaps his tormentors had returned. But he knew there was no way that Edward could ever be so quiet, so his temporary fear had morphed quickly into curiosity. He’d propped himself up on one arm and listened.
He’d thought he heard a small sigh and called out, but there was no answer, and then, a few seconds later, perhaps the sound of rushed footsteps on the stairs. But if anyone had been there, he was certain they were gone now. Matthew was all alone again with only his own thoughts to keep him company.
The possibility of fading away from reality seemed promising once more, and with his head still bleeding profusely, King Matthew of Zurconia closed his eyes and sank into oblivion.
Chapter 4
King Philip rolled over, untwisting the bed sheets with one hand as he tumbled away from the naked redhead sprawled beside him. She was a temporary fix. No amount of sleeping with whores was going to solve the problems he was facing. An invading army practically knocking on his door while all of his generals showed their incompetence, a mute princess who shuddered every time he so much as touched her arm, and an odiferous uncle who constantly seemed to forget who was ruler of this kingdom and who was merely an out-of-breath, sick, old prude.
Even the soft moans coming from the girl next to him were not enough to quell his anger for long. He was a good lover; of course he was, but she was overly dramatic, and it often made him want to slap her across the face when they were done. However, she was also convenient, and that’s what he’d needed this day. A quick lay and then back to the war room, back to tactics and defense, and all of those things he wished he could simply delegate to someone else. Unfortunately, there was no one else competent enough to handle any of it. Hell, his men couldn’t even execute his well-thought out plans, much less design the concepts. He was beginning to think this war his uncle had pressed upon him was a costly mistake and that he was going to end up losing his entire kingdom based on the ill-conceived notions of vengeance his ancient uncle had generated far too many years ago.
The girl, Rose, stirred beside him, pulling the sheets up around her. She gathered them between her large breasts so he could still see exactly what she had to offer, but Philip wasn’t looking for another round. Ignoring her, he stared up at the ceiling, trying not to let the woman get on his nerves. She should consider herself extremely fortunate to be sharing the king’s bed. He knew she was ambitious, and for her, this was as much as she could possibly ever hope to accomplish.
Her blue eyes weighed heavily on the side of his face as she rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand and gazing at him as if she were trying to read his mind. Philip scowled. She’d better not dare to ask what he was thinking. Such questions after sex often made him extremely irritable, and on more than one occasion, he had been about to throw her out into the hallway in the nude for her stupid inquisitions.
Philip ran a hand across his chest. It wasn’t Rose’s fault she wanted him again. With his muscular frame, dark brown eyes, and chiseled jaw, he always had that effect on women. His eyes darted to her and then away again, wishing she would just leave. With one arm tucked under his head, she could see that he was not resting but contemplating something important, couldn’t she? How had she not learned over the years it was best for her not to interfere with his thoughts? Despite the fact that she was a cheap harlot, he knew she wasn’t unintelligent. It was too bad she didn’t just get up and go without him having to throw her out on her plump bum.
As Philip lay there next to one redhead, his mind wandered to the other. Though he had been told that Katherine did not speak, he had been utterly baffled when he’d met her, and she literally would not say a word. He could not wrap his mind around how someone would simply choose not to talk for over a decade. She was fully capable of speaking; she just chose not to! He’d thought for sure that she would meet him and suddenly remember why it was so important to be able to communicate, that somehow his attractiveness would bring her around. Of course, that had not happened, and he was completely put-off by it.
Unfortunately for him, however, his body seemed to want to sabotage him. Every time he was around the princess, he began to physically respond to her. He wanted to strip her naked, tie her to the bedpost, and make her scream his name. It was a challenge he was looking forward to taking on soon. In fact, he should have married her and had his way with her years ago. But war after war had impeded his ability to settle long enough and move forward with the nuptials. And while he had no issue with sexual relations outside of wedlock, he knew the princess’s sister, Queen Eleanora, would see matters differently.
He needed to keep the queen happy. The further into his kingdom the invading Arterians got, the more he knew he could use some assistance from Nadoria. The neighboring kingdom was extremely wealthy. Nadoria had the means to acquire weapons and mercenaries on behalf of Clovington. However, he had to complete the transaction with Nadoria in order to formally request their assistance against the Arterians, which had led to him sending for his wife-to-be after all of these years of avoiding the inevitable and tying himself down in marriage.
Although he had mentioned his need for more soldiers, properly trained and disciplined soldiers, before he’d sent for Katherine, Queen Eleanora and her worthless husband Kenneth had replied to his correspondence with, “We will consider Clovington our full ally once the wedding ceremony has been performed and the marriage is consummated.” Those words had prompted him to send for his blushing bride, and she had arrived on his doorstep just a few weeks later, no pomp or circumstance, just one lady-in-waiting, a couple of footmen who’d scuttled back to Nadoria, a few trunks of clothing, and a chest full of precious gems intended as a dowry. Those riches must now be used to fund the rebuilding of the Tower at Glendor which had recently been annihilated by the Arterians.
He had already spent some of those jewels, however, so he was hoping that his other inquiry would come through. Philip had sent a messenger to his distant cousin Leopold, King of Gradenia, a savage and ruthless group of rogues to his north, hoping to pique his interest and perhaps win his assistance with the refute of Caleb’s infiltrating army. Philip knew that Leopold had personal issues with Caleb, though he wasn’t sure exactly why, and he hoped to prey upon that hatred and use it to his advantage.
But it had been almost two weeks, and he had heard nothing. His messenger had returned with little more than shrugging shoulders. Philip hated being ignored. Thinking about this situation angered him all over again. With a loathsome sigh, he pulled himself up from the bed and got dressed, ready to head back to the war room and come up with some solutions.
Rose’s voice behind him was a reminder that he was not alone. He had forgotten for a few moments that the slut was even in the room. “Are you leaving?” she asked groggily. He didn’t bother to answer her as he finished pulling his tunic over his head and pushed into his boots. Wasn’t it obvious what he was doing? As he walked toward the door, he heard her say, “Call on me anytime, Your Majesty.”
Her comments only annoyed him further and he stomped off in the direction of his war room in an even worse mood than before. “At least,” he mumbled aloud, “a mute wouldn’t make such asinine comments!”
Rose Baker had thought perhaps she could interest the king in another round before he headed out of the room in a huff, leaving her lying on his bed alone. Though he had satisfied her, as he always did, she was always willing to give him multiple opportunities. Running a hand through her long red hair, she contemplated what she could’ve done differently. Perhaps she should have taken hold of his cock to entice him, but she could tell by his demeanor that he was not in the mood.
It had probably been in her best interest to slip quietly out the door, but it was times like this when she allowed herself to imagine, for just a few moments, what it would be like to actually be the queen. So, she’d rolled onto her back, adjusted the sheets, and lay very still, daydreaming of being a royal while the actual king was likely contemplating how to defeat an army that was advancing further into his kingdom each day. She was an intelligent woman, despite her station, and was aware that the Arterians were closing in, though Philip never spoke a word to her about the situation. When he stormed out of the room, off to meet with his lackeys, she assumed, she prayed he’d find a way to stop the attacking army.
She should probably leave, but there was no one telling her to do so. Rose settled against the satiny pillows and closed her eyes, trying her best to pretend she truly was queen, that Philip was her husband, and this was her bed. Despite the luxury all around her, she was having difficulty getting over the fact that the soon-to-be-queen was now present somewhere in this very castle. She had known for a long time that Philip was to wed Princess Katherine of Nadoria. Everyone knew that. Honestly, the idea of him marrying royalty was actually more pleasant to her than the knowledge that she was not his only source of pleasure amongst the rabble. She wasn’t supposed to be able to compete with a princess, but it made her mad as bloody hell to hear when he had shagged some other wretched member of the lower class. The king bedding a noble was much more acceptable than the thought of her Philip with someone else on the same lowly level as Rose herself.
She didn’t think Katherine would be too much of a threat. She was strikingly beautiful, that was for certain, but the princess had some enormous personality issues that Rose believed the girl would not be able to overcome. Philip might be married to Princess Katherine, but Rose was planning on staying his primary partner between the sheets.
It might be hours before Philip returned. If Rose was still there when he did so, the king would be angry. She’d deal with that when it happened. For now, she pulled the lush bedspread up over her naked body and closed her eyes, praying her dreams would be even better than her current reality.
It was getting late in the afternoon when Katherine ascended the stairs for the second time. Part of her considered darkness an asset since it was always easier for her to go undetected when there was little light. But she did not like being alone in the castle after nightfall. She didn’t like being alone anywhere after nightfall. So she didn’t plan for her trip to take long. Besides, the princess was expected to dine with King Philip that evening, so she must be back promptly.
As she grew nearer to the top of the staircase, she heard a song coming from the room behind the oak door. Matthew was singing, softly and faintly, but singing nonetheless. She paused for a second, recognizing the tune. It was an old ballad about lost love, one her mother used to sing from time to time. It stirred faint memories, and for a moment, Katherine lost herself in emotion, remembering her sweet mother and longing for her embrace.
The princess shook her head, clearing those thoughts and returning to her current mission. The bloodstains still trailed down the stairs, and as she approached the door, she noticed a larger puddle. Her eyes fixated on the crimson stain, and for a long moment, she wasn’t able to pull them away. It reminded her of a similar pool of blood, one she would never be able to erase from her memory. Eventually, she pushed those thoughts aside. Katherine had duties to perform.
The blood made her shudder as she thought about what they must have done to the poor young man on the other side of that door. It seemed strange, but that’s how she thought of him at the moment, just a poor young man. He had been torn from his family, held captive, frequently beaten, starved, and denied access to any comfort whatsoever. It didn’t really matter his title or lineage under these circumstances. Pain was pain regardless of station.
That’s why she had walked away earlier. She’d needed to collect some items to slide through the little slot in the door.
This time, he didn’t seem to hear her approach. She paused for a second outside the bloody door, not sure what to do. Without speaking, it was difficult to announce her arrival. Finally, Katherine decided to try knocking. She tapped gently against the solid oak door and waited for an acknowledgement.
Matthew stopped singing. She imagined he wasn’t sure if he had heard something or not. He’d called out to her earlier, so Katherine decided to wait and see if he did so again. Another moment passed, and he said nothing, so she knocked again. In a raspy voice, the king on the other side of the door whispered, “Is someone there?”
This was another tricky situation for Katherine. Since she could not verbally respond, she decided to slide the first gift through the door. It was a book, the thinnest one she could find in the library. She wasn’t quite sure if it would fit, and it took a little bit of effort, but after working it back and forth against the sides of the slot, she was able to slide it through. She didn’t want to drop it, however, because she wasn’t sure how much blood there might be on the other side of the door, so she held it in place, hoping Matthew would take it.
The princess could only imagine what he must be thinking, seeing the book sticking through the door and yet hearing nothing. Waiting, she listened to the noise on the other side of the door. A creak she imagined was the bed and then footsteps before there was tension on the end of the book. She released it into his hand, and he pulled it through. “Pardon? Who is there?”
Katherine did not answer, of course. Instead, she took the clean strips of cloth she had brought with her and thrust them through the slot, thinking he might want to use them as bandages. She held them patiently, waiting for him to take them.
Matthew’s hand took hold of the linen. “Thank you,” he said cautiously. “Who… who’s there?”
Again, she didn’t answer, just offered another gift. Thin cuts of meat, some cheese, even a thinly sliced apple, each slid through the door as efficiently as possible. She heard him gasp and wondered if Matthew was tempted to shove each piece directly into his mouth. He didn’t, though. Through the tiny slit, she could see him sitting them down on the strips of cloth and imagined he’d want to know the source before he consumed anything. “Unbelievable,” he mumbled. “Thank you! Thank you so much. Please, tell me your name!”
