So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(43)

The kingdom of Tourin is not responsible for any deaths that occur during the competition. All those seeking to compete must arrive in Lourdon before the competition begins and pay the requisite fee of three hundred gold coins.

Shock sizzled through Rupert as he read the notice. Not wanting to believe it, he scanned it a second time, and his shock ignited into rage.

He jumped up so quickly his chair fell over. “Dammit to hell!”

“Calm down,” Stefan cautioned him.

As Rupert’s anger grew, the air in the room began to swirl, and a breeze ruffled the curtains and coverlet on the bed. Dammit, he needed to stop thinking about it, but how could he not face the truth? Brigitta’s brother was planning to use her as a broodmare. If one stud failed to impregnate her, the next one would be called in.

“I’ll kill that bastard!” He slashed his hand through the air, and a wind knocked the hats off his companions. They grabbed their goblets to keep them from being blown over.

“Control yourself.” Stefan righted Rupert’s fallen chair. “Do you want to start a hurricane in here?”

Dryden’s eyes widened. “He could do that?”

Rupert clenched his fists as he paced across the room. Control. He needed to stay in control. It was the one bad side effect of his power. He had become so connected to the wind that it was somehow attached to his emotions. Whenever he grew too agitated, the wind picked up like the tempest that roiled inside him. The last time he’d lost control it had been a disaster.

The Tourinian navy had tried to ambush his fleet in the fog. In his desperation to keep his men alive, he’d caused the naval ships to blast each other with their cannons. Two ships had caught on fire, and men had lost their lives.

Control. He inhaled deeply to calm the racing of his heart. But Brigitta’s words still pricked at him. Why can’t I control my own destiny? Dammit, she would never have a chance. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“Why is he so pissed?” Dryden whispered to Ansel.

Ansel cleared his throat and gave Rupert a pointed look.

Rupert took another deep breath. Dryden only knew that he carried a grudge against Gunther. He didn’t know why. And he sure didn’t know that once upon a time, Rupert had vowed to be loyal and true to a baby girl, and to always protect her. That vow was obliterated, along with your family. She is the enemy.

So why did the thought of her being abused make him want to commit murder?

“We kidnapped the princess,” Stefan explained as he retrieved the fallen hats and deposited them on the table. “She’s on board the Golden Star.”

“Holy Light.” Dryden’s eyes widened. “You have Gunther’s sister?”

With a chuckle, Ansel set his feathered captain’s hat back on his head. “Gunther must be shitting his breeches right now. He’s planned this whole contest, but thanks to us, he can’t deliver the prize.”

Prize? Rupert gritted his teeth. How dare that bastard use Brigitta as a prize?

Ansel swallowed down some ale, then belched. “Damn, but this is excellent timing for us. The more desperate Gunther is to get his sister back, the higher the ransom we can require.”

“Don’t you see what’s he’s doing?” Rupert yelled. “The bastard is using her as a broodmare! She’ll be forced to bed whoever wins.”

Ansel gave him a curious look. “And that bothers you?”

“Of course!” Rupert replied. “The man is arranging his sister’s rape!”

Stefan and Ansel exchanged looks.

Dryden shrugged. “Aren’t princesses usually married off to strangers?”

Rupert lifted a clenched fist, ready to punch a hole in the wall.

“Sit down, Rupert.” Ansel used the same tone he had when Rupert had been a rebellious fourteen-year-old. “We need to discuss this matter calmly.”

Rupert didn’t budge. “Who are we to decide her destiny?”

Ansel quirked a brow. “Didn’t you do that when you kidnapped her?”

Holy crap. It was true. Rupert’s frustration and anger turned on himself, and another burst of wind shot across the room, blowing Ansel’s hat off once again.

“Dammit, boy,” Ansel growled.

“Enough, you two.” Stefan lifted his hands. “We need to go over this announcement. First, the timing. The moons embraced last night, so the competition is set to begin in two weeks.”

Ansel nodded, then pointed at the second paragraph. “Did you notice this? That the son would become Gunther’s heir?”

“I wondered about that, too,” Dryden said. “Gunther had an heir, but the boy died three years ago. Now there’s a rumor going around that Gunther can no longer father children. I thought it might be merely gossip, but apparently he was seriously injured two years ago in a battle with the Norveshki.”

Stefan grimaced. “I remember hearing about that. A dragon set his breeches ablaze.”

“Ouch.” Ansel winced. “My biscuits are burning!”

While the men chuckled, Rupert ground his teeth over the irony of the situation. If Gunther had been able to sire his own heir, he would have never sent for his sister. He would have gladly pretended that she’d never existed. But now she was his only hope. “Brigitta is the only way he can get an heir from his own bloodline.”