The Fire Prince (The Cursed Kingdoms Trilogy Book 2) by Emily Gee Read Free Book Online

parade rest scanning Princess Brigitta’s private garden—the tall hedges, the rose bushes, the paths of crushed pink and white marble, the bower where the princess sat with her maid, Yasma.
    His gaze rested on the princess for a moment. She was returning to herself slowly, returning to the person she’d been before her brief, terrible marriage to Duke Rikard.
    No, he corrected himself. She can never fully go back to who she was .
    The weeks when she’d lived in a daze of poppy syrup, when the duke had raped her daily—those weeks could never be erased. Princess Brigitta could move forward, though, and Yasma was seeing that she did. The princess was eating properly again. She was sleeping without the aid of the poppy syrup. Her skin had regained its color, her golden hair its luster, her eyes their alertness, but beneath those things was damage, as it was with Yasma. The terror he glimpsed in the maid’s eyes when armsmen noticed her, the way she shrank into herself—Princess Brigitta shared some of those scars now.
    He examined the garden again, and let his gaze return to the two girls: Yasma dark and slender, with a bondservant’s iron band pinched about her upper arm, and the princess pale and golden, a delicate crown woven into her hair.
    If I could, I would free you both .
    But he wasn’t free himself. He was bound to this gold-roofed palace until the term of his service ended, the lives of his family his bond. Seventeen more years. An eternity.
    He scanned the garden again, his gaze skimming over hedges and paths and the green oval of grass.
    Here, three short weeks ago, Princess Brigitta had committed her act of treason, slipping Osgaard’s plans for invasion to the Lundegaardan ambassador’s wife. The risk she’d taken had been appalling, but the consequences were beyond anything he’d dared to imagine. Freedom for Lundegaard, and Duke Rikard’s fall from grace. And his death.
    Karel allowed himself to savor the memory of Rikard’s death. The man’s final words echoed in his ears. Out of my way, you whoreson islander. She’s mine . He couldn’t remember drawing his sword, but he could remember the jolt of the blade sinking into Rikard’s neck, the smell of the man’s blood.
    A sharp, exultant satisfaction filled him. This whoreson islander killed you, he told the dead duke. The princess belongs to herself again, not you.
    But that was untrue. Princess Brigitta belonged to her father, and he would bestow her on someone else now that she was widowed. Another man like Duke Rikard, most likely, who’d never see her for who she was. Her heart, her mind—those were what made Princess Brigitta special, not her face.
    Footsteps crunched fast on the marble path. Karel swung around, gripping his sword hilt.
    Prince Jaegar. The princess’s half-brother and heir to the throne, his crown bound to his head by his long, ash-blond hair.
    The prince’s expression was usually cold, but today a fierce, gleeful grin lit his face. “Britta!” He strode onto the grass, half a dozen armsmen at his heels. “Father’s dead.”
    For a moment everything seemed to stand still, and then sound and motion rushed back into the world. Birds sang, a rose petal drifted in the breeze, Princess Brigitta and Yasma scrambled to their feet.
    “What happened?” the princess asked. Emotions crossed her face: astonishment, relief.
    Yasma backed away as far as she could. She stood with her head bowed, trying to make herself invisible.
    “Another of his rages. His face went purple and he dropped dead.”
    “Oh,” the princess said. “How... how...” She was clearly groping for a word that wasn’t a lie. “How shocking.”
    “Indeed.” Prince Jaegar’s teeth gleamed white. They looked as sharp as a wolf’s, and then Karel blinked and the illusion was gone. “I thought you should be the first to know.”
    “Thank you.”
    Prince Jaegar didn’t hug his half-sister, didn’t take her hands, didn’t offer any comfort. He