dead. If there were people in the castle to care for her—but there was no one.
He ran his hand down his stubbled jaw. Like the true scum that he was, Baltrasard hadn’t cared about her when he fled. He’d left his daughter to Warriors, not knowing what would happen to her.
Caleb closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. What was he going to do with her? If he left her here, she wouldn’t survive without food and water. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he set out toward Avalaria and Castle Silvergard.
He approached what remained of the girl’s bedroom door and looked down at the jagged splinters of wood all around his feet.
With measured caution, he stepped inside the room and was promptly greeted with a Beldarian vase over the head. He tried to grab her as she vaulted over him but he collapsed to the floor.
He pulled himself up and shook his injured head as if to clear it. She was getting away! He watched her bend to pick something up off the floor—a statue of a horse. She swung it at one of his men. She missed and ran on. Was she as elusive and hard to catch as her father? If he let her run, would she lead them to him?
He looked down the stairs and saw Jonas passing the foyer with small statues and vases in his arms.
His second looked up just in time to see the girl heading for the stairs. It took the well-muscled warrior a moment to realize she had gotten away from Caleb, but he set down what he was carrying and made it to the top of the stairs before she began her descent.
She stopped just before she bounced off Jonas’s chest. She looked around frantically for another route.
For an instant, Caleb felt sorry for her. She reminded him of a trapped bird. He had to remember who she was. If she was the king’s daughter.
“Do you know where your father has gone?” he asked as he slowly approached her.
“No,” she answered stiffly as if the matter meant nothing to her, though her misty eyes said otherwise. She didn’t deny Baltrasard was her father. “If I did know, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“You will tell me if I have you tortured,” he warned.
His threat achieved the look of terror he was trying to pull from her. He almost went back on his warning when she swallowed hard. She was innocent in all this. He would never hurt her. But she didn’t know that.
“You will have to kill me,” she retorted through her fear.
Hmm. He was surprised to find such fortitude in her. He was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it after a couple of hot days with her. His head still hurt. She was dangerous and quite lovely dressed in a trailese, a thin, high-waisted, loose-fitting garment, either skirts or voluminous pants, he couldn’t tell which, with a matching short top and long, wide sleeves and silken slippers.
“Next time you hit me with something,” he growled, leaning down toward her ear. “Make certain it is harder and more meaningful than Beldarian trash.”
“Give me another chance and I shall show you what it’s like to be among the dead.”
For a moment, Caleb regarded her with carefully shielded amusement tainted by an exasperated sigh. She was going to be trouble.
“Tie her up,” he commanded, giving her a gentle shove toward Jonas. He didn’t look at her again.
“Let’s go, Princess.” Jonas’ smile was a dark slash of victory as she was traded over,
“Take your hands off me! What are you going to do with me?” she demanded, but Caleb ignored her. “I am speaking to you, savage! Do you know who I am? I am Princess Willomenia Odarre, and when I ask a question, I expect an answer!”
Caleb descended the stairs ahead of her. He could feel the blistering fury in her eyes on him.
He stopped on the last step and pivoted slowly to look at her, responding to her sharp tongue with only an amused smile that seemed to soften her and make her dark eyes glint with violence toward him at the same time.
“I hereby strip you of your title.” His voice was mild, vague, as if she was nothing more than a pest. “From now on you are my charge, nothing more.”
She struggled heedlessly against Jonas’ hold and looked at Caleb like she’d leap at him and claw out his eyes if she could. “You hereby what?” she demanded. “Who