Chapter 15
1224 Words
By decree of the mighty prince, she was confined to that tiny cage. Azzurra could stand without stooping, but lying down was another matter there wasn’t enough space to stretch her legs, so she had no choice but to curl up like a child.
The benevolent prince didn’t even bother to show his face and she was genuinely relieved. The room, at least, was warm, and the traitor Benedetto had laid a thin mattress inside the cage for her. It wasn’t plush, nor new, but it kept her from the icy bite of the floor. He’d also brought her a blanket, adjusted the temperature settings, and turned the heat on. For that, she was grateful. Slowly, the warmth seeped back into her frozen fingers and toes.
She cupped her palms around the tip of her nose to coax warmth into it. A part of her hoped they had placed the cage on the fur rug soft and inviting, it might offer her a moment’s comfort.
Food and medicine followed. Benedetto had brought something for her cold, and after taking it, she felt noticeably better. But more than anything, the absence of the terrifying Lycan brought her peace.
Two days passed without disruption. The healer had come twice to tend to her injured hand; her fingers were still in rough shape, but the swelling had gone down, and the pain had dulled to a manageable throb.
To her surprise and even more, her relief the first prince hadn’t returned to his quarters.
According to Benedetto, he had gone hunting. It was clear he was deliberately staying away from her, and for that, she was deeply thankful. Once again, he had seemingly outwitted his father. But Azzurra knew she couldn’t afford to be too comfortable with his absence. If he continued to avoid her, Mattia might get his chance and her chances of survival would plummet.
Over those two days, she’d done little else but think. She had made a decision to test the brothers, to see just how far each was willing to go for the throne. It might cost her everything, but wasn’t it worth the risk to know?
She was allowed a single day back in her own room. Then, Benedetto informed her: the next two days, she’d have to stay in Mattia’s chambers. Torture.
Leash in hand, Benedetto escorted her toward Mattia’s room.
“I want to ask you something,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but steady. Benedetto turned, arching a brow, waiting.
She didn’t wait for permission. “Is Maristella alive?” she asked, her eyes full of a hope that guilt hadn’t been able to drown out.
“She is,” he confirmed, and Azzurra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
He knocked once before the door swung open, revealing Mattia lounging on his bed.
He scowled at the sight of her, then rolled his eyes with theatrical disdain.
“Toss the b***h in the cage,” he muttered.
Benedetto did as he was told, locking Azzurra back inside.
“What’s the mattress for?” Mattia snapped.
Without a word, Azzurra grabbed the mattress and shoved it back out through the bars. Benedetto shot her a hard look, but it was too late. Mattia’s brow lifted in amusement at her silent defiance as he sat upright.
“Leave, Benedetto,” he ordered, his voice tight with offense.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Mattia crouched, bringing his face level with hers. Only the cage bars separated them.
“Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?” he growled.
She was afraid she wouldn’t lie to herself about that but he didn’t need to know it. She swallowed the sharp reply that rose to her lips and stared him down instead.
It still struck her how different the two brothers were. Mattia with his fair hair, pale skin, icy blue eyes, and almost angelic features. His older brother, by contrast, had bronze-toned skin, jet-black hair, golden-amber eyes, and a face cut with sharper lines.
“Answer me,” Mattia hissed.
She didn’t.
He lunged forward, hand shooting through the bars to seize the leash, yanking her forward so violently that she slammed into the iron rods. Her face twisted at the last second, so it was her cheek and temple that bore the brunt of the impact. A dull throb pulsed through her skull.
Her eyes widened when he caught her injured fingers and crushed them in his grip. Pain shot through her hand, and though tears stung her eyes, she refused to let them fall.
“Your brother will get the throne,” she gasped. “He said” she paused, watching his expression shift.
“What did he say?” Mattia ground out.
“He said… you’ll kill me because of your temper,” she finished.
Mattia blinked in disbelief and let go of her hand. She cradled it to her chest, pulse racing.
“My brother doesn’t speak to humans. He despises them. You really think I’d believe he shared something like that with you?” Mattia said coolly, brushing a strand of blond hair behind his ear.
He was still in his nightclothes.
“He ignored me completely for two days after that,” she said softly, her voice carefully trembling. “I think his strategy is to pretend I don’t exist until you do the dirty work.”
Mattia scoffed and released her leash. She stumbled back, coughing and rubbing her neck.
“Pain in the ass,” he muttered, rising to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom.
Azzurra sucked in a shaky breath and shut her eyes against the pain radiating through her hand.
None of this made sense. What kind of king set up such a ridiculous trial? Both princes were powerful, cunning, and grown men. Was the King truly convinced that one of them would kill her and thus earn the throne?
It was insane. Laughable.
Who in the world made that man king?
For now, submission might be her safest bet if they overlooked her, she could survive. But nothing about this arrangement sat right with her. There had to be something more.
Just as she predicted, Mattia also ignored her for two days. Still, she didn’t sleep. Not really. He drank heavily at night, and she stayed alert, wary of what might come.
Back in her own room, Azzurra began to plan. Escape was the only way forward.
Every night, she studied the guards’ movements through the surveillance feed, memorizing the timing of their patrols. At midnight, only two guards rotated positions. If she could get her hands on a maid’s uniform, she could slip through the mansion unnoticed.
She’d also noticed that Benedetto had stopped locking her room these past few nights. Perhaps he trusted her too much or maybe he thought she had no chance of escaping.
She wouldn’t flee tonight. Tonight was for recon.
With bated breath, she crept out of her room, bare feet silent on the floor. She tiptoed down the grand staircase, her heart pounding like a war drum.
The mansion was drowned in shadows. She moved through the dark like a ghost, wide-eyed and alert.
She spotted the kitchen and darted inside, unaware of the two smoldering amber eyes tracking her every move from the shadows.
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