Fit For a Prince Sneak Peek

He’s dead. The prince is dead.

But there was no time to mourn.

Fire was everywhere. I couldn’t breathe, let alone see where I was going. The castle halls filled with smoke, and the floors were burning my bare feet. There had been no time for slippers, and even if there had been, I wasn’t certain I’d be able to run fast enough in them.

“I heard someone this way!” a male with a thick Aemastian accent called through the flames. I ran the other way, more willing to burn alive than be slaughtered by a filthy Aemastian soldier.

The hem of my dress caught fire, but it was easy enough to stamp out with heels that were already burned. The gown felt too big, my corset too tight, and my hair too loose in my eyes for a time like this. I had to escape the castle, but more than anything, I had to survive. 

Because if I didn’t, who would be left?

“There!” Another Aemastian spotted me, his iron armor singed black from the smoke like a grim reaper coming to claim my soul. “An Ivalonian! Don’t let her get away.”

My fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, choosing to hunt for a weapon instead of attempting another escape. They’d seen me this time, meaning they wouldn’t stop hunting me down until I was good and dead.

Dead wasn’t an option today.

I darted down toward the castle’s main hall, biting my tongue as I ran over shards of broken glass and smoldering bits of carpet. The larger areas of the castle were sure to be flooded with enemy soldiers, but it also should have been filled with fallen Ivalonians.

“Catch her! She’s trying to escape!” Two Aemastians chased behind me, sprinting straight through the flames with their reinforced armor.

It had to be magic. How else would they be able to withstand the heat in all that metal?

I didn’t try to think about it too long. Magic was a temperamental thing, especially when spread across something as wide as a chest plate. It may have been fireproof, but that didn’t mean it was invincible.

I spotted a dead Ivalonian soldier in the debris, my stomach knotting as I ran toward his corpse. As I’d hoped, his weapon wasn’t far. A long, charred sword with a leather-wrapped hilt lay in the base of a fire, the tip almost glowing orange in the heat. I grabbed for the hilt, and even the leather was almost too hot to hold. The sword was too heavy for me, and the balance was designed for a man of a much stockier stature, but it didn’t need it to be perfect. I only needed a chance to live.

“Get the brat!” The first Aemastian lunged at me, sword first. I dodged, leaning toward his blind side and swiping my blade at his abdomen. The sword only clattered against his armor, but the blow was strong enough to warp the metal and knock the wind out of his gut. “Ack!” 

As I thought. Fireproof, but thin.

The second soldier came next, choosing to swipe his sword at my legs hiding beneath my puffy red skirt. I tried to jump back, but I tripped on the hem, crashing back to the floor and dropping my blade. The sword slid across the floor, landing against the boots of yet another Aemastian. A whole group of them ran up the burning remains of the grand staircase, blocking off my closest escape route.

“No!” I screamed, struggling to find my footing under all the cursed fabric. My hands frantically searched the ground, finding nothing but ashes and a broken piece of a golden picture frame that had been burned off the wall.

“Looks like you’re done.” The soldier laughed, raising his blade over my cowering form with a delighted gleam in his foreign eyes.

My feet found the ground, and in the same instant I threw the chunk of debris at the soldier’s forehead. The bit of gold framing clunked him right between the eyes, knocking him senseless and causing him to drop his sword. I rolled out of the way before the blade could fall on me, burning my arm on another patch of flames in the process.

I barely had a moment to stand before another hand shot out from behind me and grabbed me by the hair. I elbowed the attacker hard in the ribs but only managed to smack my elbow straight into another chest plate. Pain shot through my arm, and I bit my lip to keep the Aemastians from the pleasure of hearing my scream.

“Release me!” I pulled at my hair, willing to rip the gold strands out of my skull if that was what it took to escape. My ring tangled in my hair, trapping my hand for a moment before I ripped it free. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”

“Don’t I?” The soldier laughed. “Because it looks to me like I’ve caught a pretty little noble girl who thought it would be fun to spend time in the palace.” He snatched me by the throat, squeezing the breath out of me as he turned me around to meet his cold, unfeeling eyes. “Are you having fun at the palace now, dear?”

He lifted his sword, preparing to slash me in two. The oxygen was being cut off to my head, but I still had a few seconds left to think. I reached out for the man’s thick throat, returning the favor by squeezing him two-handed while he gripped me with only one. My response shocked him enough that he lowered his sword, and I took the opportunity to headbutt his arm and break his grip on me.

For a fleeting second, I was free. I started to run, but when I looked around at the flames, all I could see were enemies at every corner.

No...

I halted, my lungs burning with the smoky air as I stood defeated and surrounded. It didn’t matter how clever, fast, or strong an Ivalonian was...no one could defeat an entire army.

The sting of defeat burned worse than any fire, but I refused to cower. They may have stolen everything from my kingdom, but they could never take away my strength. If Ivalon was going to burn, then I would die as its phoenix.

“You.” A chilling voice cut through the crackle of flames. An Aemastian cut through the crowd of soldiers, his uniform different from the others. His helmet was gilded with gold, and his armor was studded with opulent rubies. His eyes were the blackest I had ever seen, like the feathers of a crow one might find stalking a graveyard. On the front of his armor was a crest that I recognized all too well: the royal crest of Aemastia. “What is your name?”

It only took a single glance for me to decide that I wanted to see this man’s corpse more than any other. 

“What could a royal like you do with a name as simple as mine?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound strong despite the rasp from the smoke. “King Septimus.” 

He lifted his chin, seemingly impressed that I’d recognized him so easily. It wasn’t hard to spot the devil in the midst of his hellfire.

“Simpletons don’t wear the queen’s ring.” Just like the crow I expected him to be, his eyes darted straight toward the glittering band on my finger. Pain saturated my heart as I curled my fingers around the symbol of my loss. “Did you steal it?”

“No,” I said numbly. “It was given to me”—I took in a sharp breath that lacerated every inch of my throat, preparing me for the painful words I was nowhere near ready to speak—“by Prince Damon, my former betrothed.”

I wanted to throw up my words and let them be washed away. It had all happened so fast that it couldn’t possibly be real. Except I had seen it with my own eyes. I had watched the prince vanish forever.

“Former?” King Septimus stepped forward, his armor scraping together like the screech of blades. 

“He’s dead.” I looked him straight in the eyes, my hatred for him and his people searing straight through his uncaring soul. “Him, Queen Vivica, and King Leopold. They’re all dead thanks to you and your soldiers. I hope you’re happy as you choke on our ashes.”

“Elated.” The king’s lips twisted into a sick smile, filled with the kind of pride only a true monster could possess. “Yet still not satisfied. I believe I asked you for your name, and I don’t like repeating myself.”

My limbs felt like they had turned to stone, my heart slowing its beats like it was already preparing for its death. This king had taken everything from me in one night. My home, my future, and Damon...

“Diaspro,” I said in a rich, clear tone, the crackle of fire emphasizing every syllable. “Diaspro Onelle.”

He can have my name, too, so long as he never forgets it.

“Diaspro...” The king tested it out loud, like a sword he wanted to take a turn at wielding. “So that’s the name of the girl my dear rival found suitable for his son. I’m amazed that I’ve never heard of you before now. It always seemed to me that nothing would ever be good enough for Leopold’s precious Prince Damon.”

Because Damon didn’t want you to know about me. He didn’t want anyone to.

“Perhaps I’m not worth taking note of.”

The king’s eyes stayed eerily glued to me. The palace may have been burning around him, but he seemed perfectly at ease among the flames. He looked at the sword I’d dropped, then again at the soldiers I’d bested and the ring that tempted him more than any other treasure.

And then he gave me that exact same greedy look.

“Or perhaps...Leopold finally found a bride fit for a prince.” His sinister tone sent shivers down my neck, and a second later he snapped at his guard. “Bring her back to Aemastia, alive.”