Chapter 56 Using a Prince

Chapter 56 Using a Prince


LILY'S POV

"What do you think you're doing?" The words came out as a whisper yell I could manage with half the market kneeling around us.

He walked over to me slowly, like we had all the time in the world. Anya shifted away from him, putting space between them, and he held out a hand toward me. I took it without thinking, my head still spinning from everything that just happened.

When I glanced around subtly, their heads were still bowed but I could see it. A few stray eyes peeking up. Watching us. Watching my hand in his.

I went to pull away because I remembered suddenly that Atlas doesn't like being touched. Everyone knew that. But my hand stayed where it was because he held it tight, his fingers wrapped around mine, and I couldn't move.

"Seriously, Atlas." I kept my voice low. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

He ignored me like always and started walking, dragging me along toward his horse. That's when I noticed them. Soldiers behind his own horse, a whole line of them, but they looked different, dressed differently with darker uniforms, harder faces, Not the palace guards I was used to seeing.

Reluctance and apprehension must have shown on my face because he leaned down and whispered, "Don't be scared. They're my private soldiers."

"So you're deaf or dumb whenever I ask you something?"

He hummed, and I was slowly getting irritated from all his nonchalant attitude when his hand moved to my waist. I flinched and shifted away but he didn't let go or even acknowledge my trying to escape.

I opened my mouth to say something but he beat me to it.

"Stop wriggling like a worm, Princess." His voice was flat. "You can't get on my horse without help unless you want another embarrassment."

I looked at the horse. Big animal, dark coat, muscles rippling under its skin. It watched me with one eye and I could tell immediately that this horse would buck me off the second I tried to sit on it. The way it shifted its weight, the way it stared. Even his horse was loyal to only him.

And the thought of riding with him, his body pressed against mine, it made my stomach flip. Rumors would fly. They were probably already flying. People seeing the prince touch me, help me, drag me along like I belonged to him.

I didn't have time to form an excuse. His hands grabbed my waist again and he lifted me onto the horse like I weighed nothing.

I yelped when the horse moved under me, a sidestep that nearly sent me sliding off. My hands grabbed the reins but I knew they'd be useless if the horse decided to run.

Atlas reached out and turned the horse's head toward him. He rubbed his nose against its cheek, right there against the side of its head, and murmured something too low for me to hear. The moment was soft, delicate even. I watched him calm that big animal with nothing but his touch and his voice.

Then he let go, swung up behind me in one smooth motion, and settled himself on the horse.

"What about Anya?" I looked down at her. She was staring up at me with an expression I couldn't read.

Atlas glanced back at his soldiers. "She can come with us if she wants. But I suggest leaving her here." He nodded toward the guards still kneeling in the dirt. "Arrest all of them. If anyone asks why, tell them they disrespected the prince's bride."

Then he kicked the horse.

We took off fast, so fast my grip on the reins loosened and I fell back against his chest. His arms came around me, holding me steady, and I didn't move away.

I stayed right there, pressed against him, and tried to ignore how right it felt. The wind whipped past us, blowing my hair around as the homes and trees blurred on either side but I couldn't focus on any of it. Just the heat of his chest against my back, his arms around me and the steady rhythm of the horse's hooves hitting the ground.

Then his voice came low against my ear again. "Use me."

I was already too conscious of him to be surprised when he spoke. But confused? Yes. Confusion was evident, not like he could see it.

He pulled the reins of his horse to stop, the rein I had given up on holding a long time ago, and we slowed right in front of the palace gate. The stone walls loomed above us, the iron bars of the gate closed tight, and the guards standing watch straightened up the moment they saw us.

I turned my head slightly, trying to see his face. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in closer and his voice dropped even lower. "You want to get back at Elliott."

My stomach tightened. How did he know? How did he always know?

A guard moved toward us, his hand resting on his sword, and I watched him approach. He bowed to Atlas, merely throwing a glance at me first, dismissive, and then he looked again. His face shifted into that of recognition.

"Princess." He bowed deep and then turned, shouting over his shoulder. "Open the gate! The princess is back and safe!"

The chain winched. The iron bars began to rise.

Atlas's voice came again, right there against my ear. "Using me is the best revenge you could give Elliott. But do it in front of the king."

I opened my mouth to ask how, to ask what he meant, but the gate was already open and he kicked the horse forward.

"How would I do that?" The words came out breathless.

He leaned closer still, his lips almost touching my ear, his warm breath fanning across my skin. A stray piece of his hair brushed against my neck and goosebumps rose in its wake.

"You know what to do when you see his dumb face." His voice was low, steady, sure. "You're good at scheming."

There was something in his tone. Something that sounded like pride. Like he was impressed with me. Like he had seen the games I played, the moves I made, and he wanted to watch me play another one. And if I was reading him right, he would side with me. No matter how foolish this plan was. No matter how foolish the last one was.

The horse walked through the gate and into the courtyard.

And there he was.

Elliott stood at the top of the steps leading into the palace, his hands clasped behind his back, his face frozen in shock. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, and behind the shock I saw it. The hatred. The pure, unbridled hatred he was directing at us...at me ..at Atlas. His eyes twitched when he further inspected the way I was sitting on his horse, pressed against him, arriving back like I hadn't been missing for days.

The guards parted around us. Servants whispered behind their hands. The whole courtyard was watching.

And all I wanted, sitting there on Atlas's horse with his arms still around me, was to watch Elliott's face twist even more. To make him so angry he couldn't see straight. To make him fall from whatever high horse he had been sitting on for far too long.