Trevus has allowed me to ride upright on Becky again, which is a mercy for my sore ribs. I just had to promise there wouldn't be a repeat of yesterday.
My mind lingers on what Trevus said to Marcellus before the duel. He prohibited Marcellus from striking me in certain places, while I had no such restriction myself. The mightiest punch I could throw is of little threat to Marcellus, but Trevus was concerned about me getting hurt. Marcellus was only allowed to punch my torso. Trevus must have been worried that a strike to my joints may break them, and a hit to my head could knock me unconscious. He didn't veto the duel, but he did ensure that I had some level of protection. The question is – why? He didn't want me to get excessively hurt – does that mean he cares about my safety?
No. He's a Versillian soldier. The wellbeing of a Mephian captive doesn't matter to him. He was just ensuring that I wasn't too injured to fulfill his plan.
Trevus leads us through open fields of tall grass, and Marcellus has a hold of Becky's cord. While gray clouds smother the sunlight, I oriented myself from the stars last night. We're traveling north. The people of Antiock used to tell me to go back north to where my kind belonged. I've taken that to mean that Mephia is somewhere to the north.
"Where are we headed?" I ask aloud.
"To a local settlement," Giddius says.
"I mean where is our last destination? Where is the king?"
"The king is trapped in a castle," Trevus says. It feels like they're deliberately sidestepping my questions.
"And where is the castle?" I ask.
"You shall facilitate our entrance into the castle. That is all the knowledge you require," Trevus says.
"But why-"
"The Captain has spoken," Marcellus interrupts me.
I close my mouth. Marcellus has only ever referred to Trevus as 'Captain'. Trevus's rank of prince should be far more prestigious than a captain.
"You claim to be a prince of the House Cerillis, and that your father is King Tytius," I say, "but the longer I'm with you, the less I believe that to be true."
Marcellus breaks into a guttural laugh. "You told her you were a prince?"
Giddius chuckles. "I did not realize seducing the sorceress was necessary."
Trevus laughs too. He looks back at me. "I have not deceived you, Jade. I have never claimed to be a prince of House Cerillis."
"But you are of House Cerillis?" I ask.
"That I am."
"And your father is King Tytius?"
"That he is."
"Then why are you just called Captain?"
"I am the Captain of the Palace Guard, and my dear mother is not of House Cerillis."
His mother isn't married to the king? He's not a prince. He's an illegitimate child.
* * * * * * * *
The sun has set, and the clouds overhead have thickened. The shrub covered hills obscure anything at a distance. A rolling thunder is creeping in, and cold air begins to nip at my arms.
Clouds coat us in drizzle. I tuck my arms close to keep warm. Giddius said that we would be staying in a settlement of some sort. I'm relieved that we won't be sleeping out in the rain.
"We were scheduled to reach Cidon before sunset," Marcellus grumbles.
"Would you have preferred to navigate?" Giddius says.
YOU ARE READING
His Captive Sorceress
RomanceHelp him!? Help the prince of the kingdom that locked me up? Joining that man is the second last thing I want to do. The very last thing is to go back to the cell they've held me in for years. That's the deal the dark, intimidating prince offers me...
