Read The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch for Free Online

in his
heart. “And how did the war end?” He searched the older
man’s face, seeking some hint of the truth. “Did Daemon finally
decide it was too costly, and retreat to spend his gold
elsewhere?”
    “Nay, he did not.” Aldric’s voice deepened,
as if weighted down by the words he spoke. “He succeeded. It is we
who have been forced to negotiate our surrender.”
    Royce flinched and took a step backward, an
icy rain of shock washing through him. He tried to steel himself
against it, to tell himself this was none of his concern. Tried to
convince himself he felt naught for Châlons and its troubles.
    But the pain was undeniable. The word surrender and the images of defeat it brought pierced the
wall he had built around his heart.
    “Sweet Christ,” he choked out at last. “That
cannot … how …”
    “Mercenaries,” Aldric explained tonelessly.
“Daemon must have all but emptied his treasury. He assembled a
force of ruthless barbarians hired from every dank hole on the
continent. They breached the palace walls—”
    Royce uttered a particularly vivid oath.
    “And there is more. During the battle for
the palace—” Aldric halted abruptly, a shadow passing over his
face. He shook his head, then finally went on. “I thought you knew
of this, Saint-Michel. I would have informed you in my missive, had
I known that you were unaware.” His voice deepened even more.
“Prince Christophe is dead.”
    Royce felt as if the mountain had just
shifted beneath his feet. “Mercy of God, nay! ” he shouted in
horror and denial. Unable to draw breath, he shut his eyes, images
of his old friend—his best friend—careening through his head, only
to be cut suddenly short.
    Christophe was dead. The palace had fallen.
Daemon was victorious.
    Royce felt behind him for the trestle table
and leaned on it with one hand, realizing he was shaking. He raked
his other hand through his hair. If he had been here, if he had
been able to do his usual reconnaissance, plot strategy with
Christophe …
    Aldric continued speaking, his voice quiet.
“His death was not in vain. He was killed escorting his sister to
safety.”
    “And where is Daemon now?” Royce asked
through clenched teeth, murder brewing in his soul.
    “In Thuringia.”
    Royce glanced up, confused. “He did not
claim the palace for his own?”
    “Nay. He insists he has no interest in it.
He demanded only two-thirds of my holdings, our homage and fealty
… and my daughter’s hand in marriage.” The king drew his
ermine-lined robes more closely around him and turned away. “He
awaits the arrival of his betrothed even now.”
    Royce straightened, stunned by this piece of
news. How could Aldric hand over his daughter to a man like Daemon?
Especially when Christophe had died trying to save her from
the enemy?
    But he held his tongue and did not ask the
question. For he knew the answer.
    Duty, crown, and country were everything to
Aldric.
    Everything.
    But the older man seemed to sense what Royce
was thinking. “She agreed to the match,” he said, answering the
question that had not been asked, as he studied a crucifix on the
far wall. “And we had no choice. Daemon could have killed every
last one of our subjects. He still may.”
    “But you said that a peace agreement had
been reached.”
    “Aye, but it is yet fragile. There have been
skirmishes between our people and his. The wounds of the past seven
years are deep. They will not be quickly forgotten. Tempers are
dangerously short.”
    Royce exhaled a harsh breath. “And Daemon’s
is no doubt the shortest of all.”
    Aldric nodded. “The wedding must take place
soon, to seal the accord between our two countries. To cool the
fires of war and make everyone see that”—he halted again—“that
Châlons and Thuringia are now … one. In peace.”
    The king fell silent. Royce leaned back
against the trestle table, his gaze on the floor as he absorbed all
he had been told. Peace. What had seemed impossible for