Free The Wrong Prince by C. K. Brooke Page B

Atasi, mate.” He beamed. “They salvaged me from the battlefield and restored me to health. I owe them.”
    “He’s not the only one,” said Kieran as more men poured forth, bowing before hugging the prince like old friends. Lucie watched, confused.
    Geo scratched his head, apparently just as mystified. “While I’m thrilled you’re all alive, you owe me a considerable explanation. What are you doing down here? Why haven’t you returned to Tybiria, to help our kingdom?”
    “We are helping you,” insisted Kieran. “With the Atasi.”
    “What the deuce is an Atasi?”
    “You’re looking at one,” grunted the brute with the tattooed face, who seemed to take pleasure noting that Lucie took a reflexive step away from him, backing into the curly-headed man called Will.
    Will eyed her from head to toe, a smirk perking his lips. “Who’s the lovely lady, Prince Georome?”
    Kieran nudged him. “Don’t you recognize Luccia Camerlane? Her father is the Baron of Backshore.”
    “So many women,” shrugged Will, “so little time.”
    Geo cleared his throat. “Miss Camerlane is Prince Dmitri’s fianc é e. Of course, you missed his Reveal Banquet.”
    Will made a defeated noise, gaining an eye roll from his companions.
    Geo turned to Lucie. “Lucie, er…these are some of my father’s knights, whom we thought had died in battle against Llewes,” he shot them another incredulous look, “until now.”
    “Have a seat.” The knights beckoned them to a plank of stone being used for a table, around which primitive benches were stationed. Lucie sat beside the prince, as another tattooed stranger brought them mead in clay cups. Why, all manner of supplies was stored down there.
    The knights sat with her and Geo, while more Atasi men, and a woman, hovered in the shadows nearby. “The Atasi are a people indigenous to this land,” began the sandy-haired knight called Kieran, “who have long inhabited the caverns beneath these mountains. They are no fonder of the King of Llewes than we are.”
    “We are a peaceful tribe, Your Highness,” said the woman, whose arm bore a sleeve of snakelike designs. “Until recently, we coexisted in harmony with the land-dwellers above.”
    “But Ira’s behavior can no longer be tolerated,” asserted the one who’d covered Lucie’s mouth. “Our caverns are the only haven for those who oppose him. Therefore, among us, you will find warriors we’ve rescued from the battlefield—ones who fought against the king—as well as citizens who’ve fallen victim to his unchecked madness.”
    A bloke of small stature stepped forth in the torchlight. “I come from the village where Queen Vanessa, may the Eternal God rest her soul, was born. A village that no longer stands.”
    Lucie furrowed her brow.
    “Three years ago, Ira had the entirety of Eindrow Village demolished,” explained the Atasi woman, “to be converted into a shrine for his late wife. All of its inhabitants were uprooted. And those who refused to leave their homes perished.”
    Another Atasi lifted his voice. “The survivors took refuge with us. We’ve since been devising how best to rid this land of Ira’s heartless reign.”
    Lucie stole a glance at Geo, who looked confounded.
    “I apologize for the manner in which we dragged you down here, Your Highness.” Kieran’s eyes were sincere. “Only, we’d heard rumors that you might be in Llewes. And when I happened to hear your name and your voice in the streets above—”
    “Were you ever going to return to Tybiria?” Geo interjected. His short tone settled among the dreary walls, silencing the others. “Forgive me, but it doesn’t seem worthy of my father’s warriors to reside safely underground, while the rest of us are left to battle Llewes with dwindling numbers.”
    “Sir,” Will was somewhat heated, “we’ve done naught but strategize how best to return to you, while taking out a piece of Ira in the process.” He swallowed.