Kingdom of Villains, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Ella Fields
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies
Formatting: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design
Cover design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
EPILOGUE
ALSO BY ELLA FIELDS
For those who forge their own path with empathy, bravery, and love
The dungeon was supposed to be empty.
Three floors above, the revelry grew in volume. It was always this way after the annual meeting of the two courts, and I’d been counting on the distraction since yesterday. Until this afternoon, the castle had been too tense, everyone on edge and alert as they’d readied for my uncle’s return and the inevitable celebration he expected after his travels.
And so I’d waited.
Only to have my plans foiled by some nuisance street thief who’d been caught.
Standing in the shadows, I leaned against the door, weighing my options. The babes squirmed in my arms, tucked within a thick horse blanket. Sadly, there were only three, the rest of the litter dead by the time I’d discovered them during my morning walk yesterday.
Upon finding them, I’d raced back through the forest and into the maze of roses, thorns snatching and ruining my skirts from hurtling over top of a few bushes. I’d ignored the amused glances of the sentinels roaming the grounds and courtyard. And I’d done so again—or perhaps they’d merely ignored me—as I’d returned some minutes later with supplies.
No one had asked any questions, nor did anyone follow me to the forest. Accustomed to my wanderings and curiosities, of which my uncle said I should’ve long left behind with my youth, they seldom did. Although I knew the grain and water and blankets would help, I also knew they would not be enough. Snow had started to fall, and all too soon, winter would bloom its deathly beauty in full.
The prisoner shifted, and as my eyes adjusted to the near dark, I saw him leaning against the wall, his head hung between his knees.
The two narrow rows of cells often went unused. I’d visited the dungeon enough to know this thief was likely only being held until my uncle had returned from the meeting of the courts to decide his fate. Those caught committing crimes found themselves indebted to the crown, put into service, or executed—depending on the severity.
I looked at the cell across from the prisoner’s. The blankets and small bowls of water and grain were thankfully still waiting in the corner. Whoever he was, the guards had apparently been too distracted or hadn’t cared to notice much else.
A low growl, similar to a kitten but with more grit, caught the prisoner’s attention.
I hushed the babe attempting to nudge its head free of the blanket and looked away when the prisoner’s head turned. “Time for bed,” I whispered, my steps echoing through the damp expanse of iron and stone and ghosts. The guards would eventually return to check on the male. But there was little else to do unless I hid the narlow infants in my rooms.
Impossible. I could scarcely hide a beetle, courtesy of the castle staff. It was too late to think of another hiding place. I’d have to leave them here overnight and decide what to do with them come morning.
“A visitor?” the prisoner asked, his voice both gruff and rich. “Or a gawker? Which might you be?”
My feet stilled, and my spine locked. The audacity. “None of your business, thief.”
“What has convinced you that I’m a thief?”
Lowering to the floor, I carefully set the babes on the ground, catching one when it began to crawl away. “You’re in a cell,” I said as if he were daft. “So if I were you, I’d be quiet. Unless you wish to start bleating your pleas to the goddess.”
Though the words were low, humor drenched each one. “Is that a threat?”
“No wonder you wound up here,” I muttered, showing the narlows to the bowls of water and grain. “Utterly stupid.” Only two of them were interested, the smaller creature’s eyes closing as it curled upon the bedding.
He laughed as he said, “It was a joke, fire-breather.”
“Spend more time praying you won’t die and less being an idiot.”
A snort had me whirling to glare at him. Words fell into fragments over my lips.
Eyes of gold so pure and bright, as if they’d been dipped in gilded honey, narrowed.
It was then that my shock and annoyance faded enough for me to pay attention to his scent. Geranium and oak with an edge of soot.
Boots, pointed and leather, still covered his feet. A dark plum cloak was draped over him like a blanket. His raven, shoulder-length hair shined within the dim light of the sconce above the door I’d entered through next to his cell.
A criminal’s hair would not shine.
But it was his features that truly gave me pause. As shadowed as they were, I saw enough. Those eyes, the severity of the sharp lines of his cheeks, and his strong jaw.
A part of me wondered if the luminosity of his gaze made him easier to see in the shadows.
It was my turn to ask, “Who are you?” I had a feeling he was not a thief at all. Not with clothing and a face like that. Not to mention his cultured tone and rotten attitude.
My heartbeat slowed, then grew faster. He wasn’t from Callula. The scent and eyes alone confirmed as much.
Rather than answer, the stranger shifted his lupine gaze to my side, to where one of the babes had crawled. Cursing, I carefully grabbed and held it within my cupped hands. “They need their mother,” he said. “Her pouch and her milk.”
He didn’t get to do that—make me feel worse for them than I already did while evading what I’d asked. Leaning against the stone wall, I placed the babe in my lap and reached for the other two. “I asked you a question.”
A thick brow rose. “You must be the princess.”
“What gave me away?” I said with heaping sarcasm, stroking a finger between the sleepy narlow’s membranous, pointed ears. It nuzzled into my touch, fuzzy black hair softening around its pig-like nose.
“One would have to be exceptionally daring or a part of the royal family to bring forbidden creatures into Callula Castle.” He paused, then said, “My name is Colvin.”
My blood turned a shade colder, my eyes slowly meeting his. “As in Prince Colvin?”
Moon above, it couldn’t be. That the Unseelie prince would be held prisoner here, or anywhere—
He nodded once.
“But…” I shook my head, more confused than I was afraid. “Why?” Callula and Eldorn had been at peace for many millennia. To capture royalty was an act of war—an act of pure stupidity.
To capture and imprison the Prince of Eldorn was a signed death warrant.
My uncle was cold, insufferably, and naïvely narcissistic, but he was no fool. So what beneath the rotting moon had happened?
“I don’t wholly understand it all myself,” the prince finally said. “But Mother said I am to behave and remain here until some type of agreement can be forged.”
“Regarding what?”
His lips curled, eyes alight as they flicked to mine. “Me.”
I swallowed and immediately looked away.
Surely, there was a good reason. Perhaps the Kingdom of Eldorn owed our kingdom a debt, and once it was paid, the prince would be released. I knew little about politics, despite my uncle’s insistence I learn as it was indeed my future. But given the peaceful climate the two kingdoms of Gwythorn had maintained for so long, he seldom cared himself unless he had to.
The prince’s gaze burned as my mind whirled.
“Why do I feel there’s far more to this than you’re willing to say?”
“Because you have good instincts,” he said, silken and low.
I bristled and shivered, refusing to succumb to the temptation to look at him. Tricksters, all of them, and in such wretchedly wicked ways at that. There was every chance he could lure me into setting him free.
Rumors of the Unseelie prince had reached the farthest corners of Gwythorn. It was said that he would bed no less than two females at once and that even at his young age of twenty and three, he had a revolving harem of lovers.
I had no idea if that were true, though I didn’t doubt that the other rumors were. All had been repeated with such zest so often. Rumors that stated he did nothing but hide away for days at a time to fuck, hunt for trespassers in their nightmare-ridden kingdom, and ride with the wild hunt into the mortal lands across the Crystal Sea to conduct trade.
But the most common talk of all when it came to Prince Colvin of Eldorn was his ability to wield a fire so deadly, it could wipe out entire forests.
Perhaps he’d done just that, which was highly illegal, not to mention so deeply immoral that none of our ilk would comprehend, and his mother had been given no choice. The queen had needed to hand him over.
Colvin’s mother adored him, my aunt had told me once when I’d dared to ask after overhearing Sylvane and Orla gossiping about him. So much so, she let him do as he wished. Aunt Mirra had a gleam in her eye as she’d said that, making it clear she knew what I got up to in my spare time.
A faint dripping echoed throughout the narrow cells. He knew. This prince knew exactly why he was here. Curiosity scraped talons over my mind, and I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Did you murder someone?”
“Not recently.” He said it so quick and firmly that I believed him. Even if I shouldn’t have.
“The mother is dead,” I said, for something to smother the tense silence that followed. “Not a trace of her left save for blood droplets in the snow. Hunters, most likely.” And it was also likely that her hide had already been sold under a market table.
A low curse. “They cannot do that. Narlows are native to Eldorn.”
“Perhaps you should have a word with them about roaming too far from home then, Prince.” He had to know that anything considered a threat in the wrong territory was fair game, as unfair as it sometimes was. “Besides, it’s likely that many of our own creatures meet the same fate. Rules are rules, regardless of whether they are understood.”
Silence permeated, and I felt him watching as I folded the horse blanket tight around the nest I’d made. “But you don’t understand them, do you, Fia?”
My name wrapped in his voice delivered an unexpected dipping in my stomach. I told myself it was from eating too little dinner as I carefully placed the narlows in their bed. “I understand them just fine.” Smirking over at him, I said, “Fine enough to know how to bend them.”
His mouth curved, eyes steadfast on mine. They lowered to the bed I’d made a moment later. Heat crept into my cheeks, so I was thankful, even if he might not have seen due to the lack of light. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”
“I suppose your schedule is very clear.” Unwilling to leave them but knowing I would have to before someone checked my rooms for me, I said quietly, “But what can you do if something happens to them?” Whatever his gruesome abilities may be, he couldn’t do much trapped behind the thick grate of iron bars.
The prince took his time to answer, his words gentle as if he knew I didn’t want to hear them and his promise had been for nothing but false comfort. “Really, there is not much either of us can do. They fight, or they don’t.”
My eyes filled, and staring down at the narlows, I nodded. It was late, and most would be intoxicated or asleep, so I walked to the stairs that would take me up into the innards of the castle.
“Someone is stationed outside the door atop those stairs at night,” the prince called softly. “They only leave when another comes to replace them.”
Back through the forgotten gardens it was then, I decided with a sigh. I would then need to use the kitchen entry and stumble about and feign being drunk should anyone be in there. I’d done so enough times before that I was somewhat of an expert.
The door, heavy and swollen with disuse, opened to ivy-and-moss-carpeted steps hidden deep behind an overgrown hedge. I paused. “Tell a soul about the narlows, and you’ll fear more than potential execution, Prince.”
Silence.
But just as I was about to close the door, he said with humor lilting his deep tone, “They’ll need beef or chicken broth.”
“Where beneath the rotting moon have you been?”
Shit.
Regin.
Quickly, I tucked the bowl of broth behind the chipped statue of a Pegasus and feigned checking my slipper. “Oh, hello.”
“Hello?” he asked, puzzled.
Standing, I brushed my hands over my spotted ivory skirts, which were already marred even though I’d only been awake and dressed for an hour. Typical for me, much to my aunt’s and seamstress’s dismay, so Regin only scrutinized my face. “Are you well?”
“Since when is greeting you a crime?” I walked past him, unable to meet his teal green eyes. I’d need to lose him then return for the broth. We’d been friends since we could walk. I could trust him, but something told me not to be so quick to trust him with this.
“Since you’ve never done so.” He caught up with me. “Not really. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” I said with a forced laugh. “Why are you acting so strange?”
He sniffed. “Why do you smell like bad meat?”
Usually, I’d have laughed in earnest. But lately, I’d found myself watching him a little too long, imagining just a little too much for that of a friend. So sarcasm got the better of me. “Why, thank you, Regin. Always an absolute pleasure.”
“Wait, Fi.” He clasped my hand. “Okay, I’ll quit badgering.”
I eyed him pointedly, my fingers longing to curl around his. I let them, just slightly.
His teeth flashed, cream brows low. “Right after you tell me where you were last night? I thought we were watching the stable hands jump the fencing again.”
It was an incredibly entertaining pastime, given how sloshed all of them liked to get. But I was still a bit annoyed, and I was still needed elsewhere. “We’re not kids anymore, Regin.”
“Precisely why I was hoping we could find something else to do afterward,” he said in a rush, then swallowed. “But you never showed.”
Absorbing what I feared and hoped he’d meant, I could only stare. “I… well—”
Tugging me closer, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his roughened fingertip lingering over the arch. “Meet me later?” I blinked, scarcely able to believe this was happening—to understand exactly what was happening. He smirked and dragged his finger down my blooming cheek to my jaw, retracting it just shy of my lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He was walking away before I could remember what words were, let alone say something.
Stunned, I watched him head down the hall toward a hidden exit between two sitting rooms. Since he was the captain of the guard’s son, he knew my home as if it were his own. Terror barreled through me at the thought of the memories we’d made within these sandstone walls and the thought of all these years culminating into a fate of something more, or…
One that might ruin a friendship forever.
Then I remembered the broth and raced back to retrieve it.
The princely prisoner was wide awake and watching the narlows scurry and snuffle at the ground of their cell. “I don’t think the sleepy one will make it.”
My heart stuttered, but I swallowed and clipped, “We’ll see,” and opened the door I hadn’t locked.
The two active babes wasted no time, finding the broth bowl and crawling into it to drink. “You’re not supposed to swim in it.” Laughing, I plucked them out but gave in when it became clear they would do as they pleased.
The prince was sadly right. The remaining narlow was still curled up in the blankets. “Maybe it just needs to rest and regain some of what it lost to the cold.”
“Perhaps it was too much. They dwell in deep caves and huddle with their mother until they outgrow her pouch.”
“More blankets then,” I fired back, unsure why I was so unwilling to let nature run its course when it was already happening. I picked up the sickly narlow and placed it on the ground before the bowl, the prince’s attention like barbed fencing skimming my back.
It was him. His voice. His unexplained presence. His annoyingly smug gaze that never left me.
It was the way I felt somewhat nauseated with just one glimpse or whiff of him. A poison.
He was trying to toy with me somehow, but it wasn’t working. Not entirely, courtesy of the iron bars that weakened his strength and, therefore, his powers.
As I feared, the narlow wouldn’t eat. Mercifully, Colvin kept his thoughts to himself while I dipped my finger into the bowl and gently placed it on the babe’s nose. It sniffed, wriggling in the cup of my hand.
