The Hunchback's Reluctant Bride ✔

25 | Need

Prince Orm steadied his horse but still leaned away.

"G—Giant!" He made the beast turn then took to a gallop, but Bonn stood to his full height and needed only a few thundering steps to break into a run.

The hill shook and within seconds, both the prince and the horse were carried in each hand.

Orm's scream rivaled any woman's.

The horse, Bonn put down gently; the prince, however, he dropped at Wyrn's feet.

Wyrn gripped the bastard's arm when he stumbled to stand and tried to run.

It wasn't steady and the prince slipped away.

Father stepped out and caught him around the throat. That was enough and he carried Orm towards Wyrn, disapproval creased into his scowl.

"Are you happy now?" He looked up at Bonn and called, "Come down."

Bonn was unable to answer, his voice would cause all sorts of trouble at this height, but he shook his head.

Everyone puzzled over why as they watched him scan his surroundings.

Wyrn was the only one uninterested in his intent. Instead, he watched the ground, his insides rotted and hollow.

He couldn't—wouldn't look at the princess, the one person he vouched for and had ultimately brought ruin to his family.

Bonn returned with a glass jar, upside down on his palm. That, another brother took. After he shrunk down again, he rushed to put the seal on his back once more to lock his magic.

The bleeding and bruised princess, Mother attended to.

"Come dear. We should see to those injuries."

Wyrn was sure to look away once the woman was to her feet. She was a mess and as deeply as he despised her, he feared for her enough that his idiotic mind started making excuses for her—excuses he'd have to eventually tell his father. She hadn't known what they were.

Mother was best to see about her, but Father instructed, "Get her inside. Now."

The vanishing.

Wyrn answered that betrayal. "What does it matter now? This is partly your doing for calling that prince after you told me you hadn't."

For nearly a year since the princess's arrival, something'd changed about Father. He wasn't gentle necessarily, but he'd looked happy.

That was why he'd forgiven each and every mistake. Even the mess with the rabbit was met with a, "Well, it's well-dressed at least. Wyrn, m'boy, that's a fine and dedicated wife to be sure."

As long as she was a nobody captured and brought here, Wyrn was sensible, Wyrn had potential, Wyrn had a kindhearted wife, and Wyrn's words were to be respected.

That was no longer the case. Because Wyrn was a fool.

Even now, to argue, to cast blame, that was a coward's course of action, but he could do no better—they were going to kill her. And they were going to make sure no one was ever this reckless again.

Still carrying Orm by the throat, Father marched back and ordered, "Get. Her. Inside."

But she'd never see the light of day again if she went inside. In fact, she'd be trapped in a hollow under the table with the prince, and that blasted fairy. And they'd feast there daily until the banging all stopped.

Wyrn's gut roiled and he nearly vomited.

"You called the prince," he insisted, though he couldn't meet the man's gaze, "so you're equally as responsible."