The Lost Prince (part 14)

EIGHT

I can’t believe it. Or rather, I wish I couldn’t. Of all the selfish bullshit to pull. It’s like he was trying to bring disaster down on our heads. It was obvious that there would be repercussions. You don’t just abduct the queen of a major foreign nation like that without the king bringing every sword arm in his land to get her back.

But when he marches her into the city, everyone’s like, “Ooh, she’s so pretty!” Never mind the inevitable war trailing in her wake. I couldn’t just stand idly by. I had to get up in her face and denounce her. In retrospect I may have gotten carried away. Ripping at her hair and clothes was not part of the plan. It certainly seemed to take her by surprise. I don’t know what kind of reception she was expecting, after running away from her problems to make them our problems. Not that, anyway. I suppose he’d filled her head with all sorts of ideas about being welcomed and granted refuge from an unhappy marriage. And if not for me, that’s pretty much what she would have got. Not that the crowds knew or cared where she came from. To them, she was a welcome novelty, something pretty to gawk at.

Even if they had known where she came from, they would have forgotten by the time her husband showed up. I mean, if it takes him that many years to follow, you’ve got to wonder if he was really that into her to begin with. Maybe she had reason to leave. But she didn’t have to bring the trouble here. She must have known what would follow. Maybe she was just in denial. Maybe she hoped that her husband’s ship would sink and the rest would go home. Or maybe she’s never once in her life thought about anyone but herself.


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