Chapter 4: The Interrogation
678 Words
I woke to silence and the smell of pine.
The bedroll was rough against my skin. My wedding dress had dried into a wrinkled mess of silk and mud. My hair was a disaster. I looked nothing like a princess and felt exactly like one—trapped, displayed, waiting for someone else to decide what happened next.
But for three seconds before full consciousness hit, I'd slept better than I had in years.
I hated that fact more than I hated the cold.
A bowl of water sat near the door. Chunk of bread beside it. No note. No kindness. Just survival, left like scraps for a stray. I drank. I ate. I waited.
The door opened.
"Time." Kael didn't look at me. His jaw was set like concrete, his scent deliberately suppressed—like he'd washed it away. I felt the absence like a missing limb.
He led me back through the tunnel into the main cavern. Morning light filtered through cracks in the rock ceiling, pale and grey. The three rogues were waiting.
Ronan sat at a crude wooden table, a map spread before him. Jace perched on the edge, spinning a dagger between his fingers. Thorn stood against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.
All three looked up when I entered.
Jace smiled. "She survived the night. How romantic."
"Sit." Ronan pointed to a stone stool across from him.
I sat.
The map showed the Border Bridge, the Ice Prince's territory beyond it, and a network of red lines slashing through the Vale. My father's kingdom. My home. Marked for destruction.
Ronan's grey eyes locked onto mine. "The treaty between your father and the Northern Territories. What does it say?"
"The Ice Prince gains control of the eastern pass. My father gains military support against the southern rebels."
"What else?"
I hesitated. "A marriage. Me. In exchange for—"
"Blood." Ronan finished. Not a guess. A fact. "The Ice Prince's god requires a sacrifice. A royal vein opened on the winter solstice. Your father knows."
The floor dropped out of my stomach.
"You're lying."
"I don't lie." Ronan leaned forward. "Your father has known for six months. He negotiated the terms himself. His daughter's death in exchange for an alliance with a madman who worships something older than the moon."
My hands trembled. I pressed them flat against my thighs. Don't cry. Princesses don't cry.
"He wouldn't—he can't—I'm his heir."
"You're a vessel." Jace's voice cut like glass. "A pretty, wrappable vessel. Daddy already signed the invoice, sweetheart."
"Shut up." The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Silence.
Jace's eyebrows rose. The dagger stopped spinning. Even Thorn's head lifted slightly.
I'd never told anyone to shut up in my entire life.
Ronan tilted his head. Studying me. Recalculating. "You didn't know."
"No."
He held my gaze for five heartbeats. Ten. Then something shifted in his expression. Not softness—Ronan didn't do softness. But a cold, strategic reassessment. Like a chess player realizing a pawn might actually be a queen.
"Then you're useless to us as a hostage." He stood. "We can't ransom a daughter her father already sold for dead."
Kael stepped forward from the doorway. "She stays."
"Does she?" Ronan walked toward me slowly. "A mouth we don't need. A scent that's already driving my men half-mad. A reminder of everything the King took from us." He stopped inches away. Looked down at me with those clinical, colorless eyes. "Give me one reason, Princess. One reason I shouldn't walk you back to that bridge and let the Ice Prince have his sacrifice."
My throat closed.
Four men watching. Four pairs of eyes waiting for me to fail. To crumble. To beg.
And for the first time in eighteen years, I didn't want to be saved.
I wanted to save myself.
"Because I know where my father keeps the southern rebellion's prisoners," I said quietly. "And I can get you inside."
Ronan went still.
Jace grinned.
Thorn's gold eyes finally met mine.
- Writer
