The Hijacked Bride

CHAPTER 11

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Shalom900 ♡ Thank you for your sweet comments, girl!

CHAPTER 11

HAYES CAMPED JUST outside Aimsir. He had followed the carriage that held Monika, only stopping short of crossing castle grounds. He might have attempted to sneak in if the place hadn't been covered in Steels. They had been everywhere he looked- probably gearing up for a journey. To where, he knew not. But he could guess well enough.

He hated Steels with a passion. The true devils were the ones giving the orders, he knew. The king, more specifically. But it was hard to have any warm feelings for men that represented the tributary duties that had played a large part in what had orphaned him.

You were one of them, a voice in his mind whispered.

He threw his sleeping mat to the dirt ground of his campsite, exhaling heavily and running a hand through his already tousled brown hair.

For all he despised the knights of Dorchadas, he hated himself more. For numerous reasons. He had not been there when his family had needed him most. And why? Because he'd been a fool with muddled priorities. He had no excuse. The same way he had no excuse now, when Monika needed him.

He hadn't known her long. But he knew she was good, and goodness was something that always seemed to evade him. He wouldn't let it happen this time, though, and he owed her this much, if not more. He'd taken her from a life that promised happiness and a family of her own, and brought her to whatever it was she was facing now. He prayed it was nothing horrendous, but he knew how bad it could become for slaves in the castle. He'd met a few runaways, and they all said the same thing. It was a nightmare.

She was probably missing her prince a lot, too. What's-his-face. Arlen? Artegal? Hayes hadn't paid too much attention to that part when King Odran had spoken of his son.

Alastar. It came to him as he unrolled his mat and made a fire out of the kindling and wood he'd gathered. Alastar was the name of the man.

A frown flickered across his brow. A prince. He distrusted nobility. But he had to make this right. He had to take Monika home.

*

WAKING UP BEFORE dawn had always helped Hayes to clear his mind and prepare for the day. It was a habit he had picked up from his father, and one that brought him comfort, in an odd way.

Once he'd eaten and packed everything up, he made the decision to ride back to the castle and survey the scene. Perhaps it would be possible to infiltrate the royal home as a stable hand, or a palace servant. But to do that, he would have to be able to do it without raising suspicion. And unless he disguised himself, he could not manage that. Prince Tyrone knew him all too well, as did some of the other more permanent residents.

Hayes had given Monika the impression that he would not stand for the people of Dorchadas to be judged generally, but there were, of course, exceptions. There were the Steel Knights, who wreaked havoc wherever they went. There was King Finnegan, who had probably never known a good intention in his life. But Prince Tyrone- he was at the top of the list, far crueller and more devilish than all the others, if that was possible. Hayes gritted his teeth at the thought of the man, then shook himself to attempt getting rid of the building tension in his shoulders. This would not be an easy feat. He had stayed away from the Dorchadas headquarters for the past four years, for very good reasons, and heading back now brought terrible memories to mind.

Still, he urged Little One into a trot, suddenly feeling even more hasty to get to where Monika was being held. The city of Aimsir was already awake. As he rode through town, there were men setting up little vendors, woman tugging their children along behind them, other horses and carts and carriages occupying the streets.