A Winter Fox: MM Fantasy Romance by J. C. Owens

Author:J. C. Owens [Owens, J. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Etopia Press
Published: 2023-05-03T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Albion, washed and dressed in clean but plain clothes, was led into Treynar’s quarters, so obviously, the prince hadn’t given orders for him to labor in the stables today. Instead, he was chained to the floor as he had been the first time he’d been brought here.

It was quiet and cool in the rooms, the morning sun had just risen, and there were servants silently moving about, opening the tall, heavy curtains that covered the massive windows. Sunlight began to pierce the space, banding across the floor and pooling where Albion was now chained.

He remained still, only his eyes moving as he watched the servants go about their daily tasks. With time, they’d become somewhat more at ease around him, not showing the terror that he’d first inspired. Now, he mused bitterly, he was simply part of the furniture.

In some strange way, this reminded him of his early days in the military, when Borin had ensured that he had the most rigid commanders. Tough they might have been, but they never abused Albion the way his uncle had. It had been a harsh but enlightening time of his life, when he had others around him for the first time, learning slowly about teamwork, how normal people lived. People who didn’t have to measure their day in how little or much pain they were in. It seemed his childhood had prepared him for the situation he was in now in Tarlantin.

Obey. Survive.

Irregular footsteps warned him, and his eyes snapped open, his body once more tense and prepared for whatever the day would bring.

It was Draven, obviously just woken. The young man looked like the hells warmed over and hadn’t taken the least care with his appearance. From the little Albion knew of the man, that seemed out of character, for he was always neatly dressed and well put together.

Draven stopped in the middle of the room, something in his expression that made Albion’s chest hurt. Lost. Broken. He knew those feelings all too well not to empathize.

The servants stole glances at him, and that seemed to pierce Draven’s manner. A mask seemed to drop over his face, and he was suddenly completely normal, completely in control.

The servants finished their tasks more swiftly than before, and most of them slipped out the door with almost unseemly haste. One older woman remained behind and dared to lay a hand on Draven’s arm as she spoke softly. He nodded and forced a smile for her. She bustled out, obviously on a mission of sorts.

Draven laid eyes on him and stiffened, then seemed to come to some sort of decision, making his way directly to Albion and dropping onto the floor cross-legged in front of him.

Albion’s eyes widened. He was well aware the young man had no wish to harm him now that the war was over, but to carelessly come this close seemed foolish even with the chains in place.

Draven met his stare with obvious distress. “Do you know anything about Zebatere?”

The question, so abrupt, was filled with a desperation that almost made Albion flinch back.

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