The Plan Commences Read online

  The Plan Commences

  Copyright © 2019 by Kristen Ashley

  Cover Art by:

  PixelMischief

  Interior Design & Formatting by:

  Christine Borgford

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Contents

  THE PLAN COMMENCES

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  About the Author

  Books by Kristen Ashley

  Connect with Kristen Ashley

  36

  The Grieving

  Prince True

  Guest Suite, Second Floor, East Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City

  FIRENZE

  “We should give her another sleeping draught,” Queen Elpis said fretfully. “The last is clearly not working.”

  True did not even attempt to hide the censure in his gaze when he looked from the weeping beauty that was in his arms to the Queen of Firenze standing at the side of the foot of Farah’s bed.

  Elpis was as far from them as she could get at the same time staying close.

  Her wont these past days when it came to Farah and her now-dead mother, Sofia.

  Elpis’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot from her own tears.

  Too little.

  Too bloody late.

  Elpis flinched when she caught his gaze.

  “You may leave,” True rumbled.

  “But, I—” Elpis started.

  “You. May. Leave,” True said lower and slower.

  Her head jerked before she lifted her chin and stated, “This is my palace. She is my subject. I am queen and I—”

  “For thirteen more hours,” he interrupted her to note. “Then my cousin will be the Queen of Firenze and you will be naught but Relict Queen.”

  She gasped in affront.

  True did not give a gods-damn.

  “You leave, or my men will remove you,” True warned.

  “You cannot—”

  “Leave, Your Grace, or my men will remove you,” True repeated, and Florian made a move toward the queen.

  “They have no authority here,” she snapped.

  “I am their prince, which means I will be their king and Farah will be their queen. Ask your son what authority that gives me,” True retorted.

  He immediately noted she took his meaning.

  Then again, after the attack on the palace that occurred not two hours before had been quashed, Mars—her son, her king—had not allowed Silence, his intended, to climb down from his back where he held her as he battled their assailants.

  It was safe, and still Mars kept Silence as close to him as he could without absorbing her, something he could not do, or he would have done that instead.

  Yes.

  Elpis took his meaning.

  Her face softened, and her gaze moved to Farah, who was in his arms, silently crying, her head turned toward True’s body, even if she was not holding him in return. Something that alarmed him and something he wished to address with his betrothed.

  It was just that he’d do that when the bloody queen left.

  “I am glad she has you,” Elpis whispered.

  “It would have been good if she’d had you,” True retorted. “If they’d both had you.”

  Pain sharpened her features.

  Pain and regret.

  But Farah tightened in his arms.

  This was upsetting his intended.

  Therefore, this had to end.

  “Go,” he ordered the queen.

  Elpis seemed to crumble before his eyes and True wished he didn’t care about that either.

  But he understood regret.

  The woman could not know her friend would take hundreds of bites from poisonous emerald oil asps and die in her bed under a pile of them before they could find their way back to a friendship that had been torn apart by treason and murder.

  However, now he didn’t have time for Queen Elpis.

  He needed to see to his future queen.

  Fortunately, Elpis knew the only one who could look after Farah was in her bed holding her.

  Thus, she gave up the fight and moved slowly from the chamber.

  The door latched shut behind her.

  “Leave us,” True ordered Florian, Bram and Alfie, the members of his guard who were in the room. The others, Luther and Wallace, were guarding it elsewhere. One, Luther, in the hall. The other, Wallace, outside, under the window.

  “True—” Alfie began.

  “Leave,” True said.

  Alfie looked to Farah then to True.

  “Magic,” he replied quietly.

  Indeed.

  The asps that had killed Sofia had been very real.

  They had also been transported to her bedchamber through magic.

  A bedchamber that had been Farah’s before her mother and she had switched in order to place Sofia farther away from Elpis’s room.

  True knew all this.

  As did Alfie and his other lieutenants.

  But he could have fifty swords in that room.

  They wouldn’t be able to fight magic.

  “I’ll want you in here, guarding her after I leave. But now, we need privacy,” True told his friend.

  “I think—”

  “Go, Alfie,” True demanded.

  Alfie hesitated before he nodded then he jerked his head to Florian and Bram and they walked out of the room.

  The instant the latch clicked, True turned his attention to Farah, pulling her deeper into his arms.

  Hers remained resting limp at her sides, her body lax, her tears silent, but still tracking down her face.

  “Sweets,” he murmured. “Do you wish another sleeping draught?”

  He offered it, for her sake, but he didn’t like the idea. They’d already given her a strong one.

  “I nee
d to rise, dress,” she told him, her voice dull and remote.

  True grew more alarmed at her tone.

  And her words.

  Pain, he could understand.

  Withdrawal was an additional concern.

  “That’s the last thing you need, Farah. You need to rest. Sleep,” he refuted.

  “I need to be in attendance at the procession.”

  “The wedding won’t be for hours, love,” True murmured. “Regardless, it would be understood if you didn’t attend. And Mars might postpone it altogether after—”

  Her head tipped back and True saw her eyes were just as remote as her voice.

  This was not Farah.

  Not his beautiful Farah with her shining topaz eyes that were always keen and alert and emotive.

  “The torture procession,” she explained.

  True blinked down at her.

  “The what?”

  “Did they take any assailants alive?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Then Mars will torture them, and all affected will go to the necropolis by the pit in order to watch them walk to their deaths. They will go by procession so the people will know those who attacked our palace, our king, will have no mercy.”

  True grew even more alarmed.

  “All?” he queried.

  “All,” she asserted.

  “Even Silence?”

  “Especially Silence.”

  Gods-damn it.

  “She cannot—” True started.

  “She must.” Farah made to move. “And I must.”

  True tightened his arms. “You’re going nowhere.”

  She stilled in his hold. “I must, True.”

  “You must if you’re Firenz,” he declared. “But you are no longer Firenz. You are Dellish. And the Princess of Wodell does not attend a procession to watch torture after she lost her mother…or ever. You’ll take another sleeping draught and you’ll rest. And when you wake, I’ll be here, and I’ll help you mourn.”

  She turned her head away.

  True jostled her. “Farah.”

  She looked at him again. “I am Firenz.”

  “You are Dellish,” he asserted.

  “I am not.”

  “You are mine and I am Wodell.”

  “I am not yours,” she whispered. “I am not anybody’s. Not any longer. I’m now actually of no one and nowhere. I am not Firenz. I am not Dellish. I am nobody.”

  True’s alarm increased exponentially.

  “You belong to me, sweets,” he said softly. “And I belong to you.”

  “For either of those to be true, you have to wish it to be true, and you do not, Your Grace.”

  Your Grace?

  She hadn’t called him that since the first day they met, and he asked her not to.

  “Farah—”

  She turned away from him, pulling out of his arms.

  “Bring me the draught. As you wish, I shall sleep.”

  She slid down into the bed, settled on the pillow, her back to him, her knees pulled up to her chest.

  True placed his hand on her hip and leaned toward her.

  He tried again, “Farah—”

  “Shall I call a servant for the draught?” she asked her pillow.

  True didn’t move or speak. He stayed right where he was, gazing at her profile in the lamplight.

  And doing this, he decided she needed time.

  She also, as he had noted, needed sleep.

  After that, she would need him.

  Even if she did not think she did.

  And she would have him.

  All of him.

  He took his hand from her hip, pulled her hair away from her neck and then he tugged the silks up to her shoulder.

  Through this, she didn’t even twitch.

  He then leaned ever closer and spoke in her ear.

  “You grieve and speak through that grief. And I am at your side. You will sleep and you will wake, still in grief, and I’ll be at your side. I’ll see you through your grief, Farah, and I’ll do it at your side. I will see you past your grief, also at your side. I will remember your mother as kind and loving, and I will do it at your side. And then we will carry on with our lives, our marriage, building a family, and through it all, I’ll be at your side. You do belong to me, Farah. My future princess. My future wife. And in return, darling, I belong to you.”

  He got ever closer, dipped his voice lower and finished.

  “And as yours, I will avenge your mother, my sweetling. The one that caused your hurt will know his own pain. That is my vow to you as my friend, my betrothed, my future princess, my future queen and just mine.”

  Through his speech, her body got tighter and tighter.

  It stayed that way when he bent low and brushed her temple with his lips.

  He pulled an inch away and murmured, “I’ll have a draught brought up.”

  Then he exited the bed, moved to the door, opened it and walked through it.

  “Get her another sleeping draught,” he ordered Florian after he closed the door. “Go in and sit with her,” he ordered Bram after Florian moved down the hall to the stairs. “But be silent and keep distant. She needs time with her thoughts.”

  Bram nodded and entered Farah’s room.

  True gave Luther a look and Luther remained where he stood outside Farah’s door as True started toward the stairs with Alfie at his side.

  They did this dodging servants who were sweeping up plaster from the quake.

  And mopping up blood from the bodies that had been removed.

  “Do you know of this procession?” True asked the captain of his guard.

  “I didn’t, until Basil came up but moments before you came out and summoned you to Mars’s study.”

  “Aramus will not allow Ha-Lah to take part in it,” True guessed. “I wish to ask her to sit with Farah until I can return to her.”

  “Ha-Lah is not leaving Aramus,” Alfie replied.

  True looked to his man. “He can’t possibly—”

  “They had a guard under their window. Catedrais was killed in the attack.”

  This stood to reason. The assailants had breached the palace through the windows. And there had been a great number of them.

  He thought it had been a miracle that all on their side had survived.

  But True had learned a long time ago that miracles didn’t happen.

  Especially in battle.

  “Bloody hell,” True muttered, turning to walk down the stairs.

  “The Mar-el are as us,” Alfie continued. “As brothers. Aramus is not in a good state, losing his man. His wife is remaining close.”

  “And Mars?” True asked, now jogging down the stairs, Alfie doing the same.

  “I do not know.”

  “Silence?” True went on.

  “I do not know that either, though Luther shared, as far as he’s heard, she’s not left Mars’s side,” Alfie told him as they made the first-floor landing.

  “Has not left his side or he has not let her away from his side?” True inquired.

  “The latter,” Alfie answered.

  “Bloody hell,” True repeated.

  They spoke no more as they made their way to Mars’s study.

  Basil and Kyril stood outside it.

  But the hall, both the east and west corridors, was laden with Firenz warriors as well as those from Airen, Wodell and the Nadirii.

  Basil opened the door for them and True walked through while Alfie remained behind.

  Only for True to stop dead.

  Silence sat in Mars’s chair behind his desk. She was curled into herself, thighs to her chest, arms around her calves.

  And she was still wearing her nightgown, which was stained thoroughly with dried blood. So much so, only streaks of white could be seen through the rust. There was dried blood on her arms. In fact, the only bit of her that had been cleaned was her face.

  And her neck, which was mottled an angry purple with bruisi
ng.

  At the sight, True felt his heart begin to race, his blood heating in his veins.

  Mars was behind her, pacing, his angry energy almost a physical thing in the room.

  All the others were there. King Aramus and Queen Ha-Lah. Prince Cassius and Princess Elena. Queen Ophelia and Princess Serena. Queen Elpis. King Gallienus. Select members of each guard. And a variety of barons of Firenz clans and chieftains of Firenz tribes.

  True’s parents, King Wilmer and Queen Mercy, were also there.

  But True was pleased to see his father’s counsellor, Carrington, was not.

  Lorenz, the captain of Mars’s Trusted, was standing in front of his king’s desk, reporting.

  “Those who were not found dead were found asleep or unconscious, draughts for the former, blows for the latter. The sergeant for this eve realized swiftly half the unit had not reported for duty at the changing of the guard. He sent warriors to discover why, and as you know, died on the palace steps, most likely on his way to Chu to raise the alarm.”

  Mars kept pacing as he rapped out, “It’s my understanding the hour for the changing of the guard is modified daily so this exact occurrence would not happen.”

  “It is,” Lorenz answered.

  “So tonight’s hour was known to the assailants.”

  “It was.”

  Mars stopped moving abruptly and pinned his captain with dark eyes. “We have a traitor.”

  Lorenz’s jaw was tight as he forced out, “We do.”

  “Have they been worked?” Mars asked.

  “They have.”

  “Has the traitor been identified?”

  “He has.”

  “And?” Mars prompted

  Lorenz hesitated but a moment to give his king a meaningful look.

  But he did not speak.

  Mars clearly read this meaningful look for his face turned to granite.

  “He and the rest are being marched to the pits?” Mars queried through clenched teeth.

  “They are,” Lorenz assured.

  Mars seemed to realize then that True was with them and his gaze sliced his way.

  “My sister?” he demanded of True.

  “Your sister?” True asked in return.

  “Farah,” Mars snarled, and True noticed Silence curling deeper into herself.

  His attention returned to the king.

  “My princess,” he corrected.

  “Semantics,” Mars spat impatiently.

  But True suspected he was less patient.

  Farah in her state, Sofia gone, the attackers coming in through his cousin’s window, and his earlier thought proven untrue for it was a certain miracle Silence had survived.