Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 220: Among Arlen’s Ashes

William turned on his heel to head into the corridor when he felt a firm grip on his arm, preventing him from leaving the presence chamber. He found himself looking into Malcolm’s hostile eyes.

The man was assessing him, as if trying to decide whether to call him friend or foe.

"You’re good to my sister?" the Moraigthian asked abruptly. "You treat her well?"

"Yes." William replied shortly.

"You treat her son well?"

"Our son, I think you meant to say. And yes, I do." William tried to keep his face from twisting into a frown.

"Do you keep mistresses? Or wenches, or whatever you call them here?" Malcolm’s questioning continued without pause.

"No I don’t. I stopped chasing skirts before we married, actually."

"You don’t lie to her? Or hit her?"

William scowled at his brother-in-marriage. "Goddamn! I do neither of those things! And I’m finding all of your questions rather fucking insulting. What kind of a man do you think I am?"

Malcolm took a step backward and rubbed his temple. "That’s precisely my problem. I don’t know! I have no idea what kind of man you are. And yet, you’re her husband. You hold the life of my only sister in your hands."

William crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the door frame, feeling the hostility slowly ebb out of him. The shock Malcolm must’ve felt when he discovered Camilla had been taken and later married into the very family that had sacked his home and slaughtered his family, must’ve been brutal.

William met Malcolm’s gaze calmly, trying to show him that he had nothing to hide.

"We all did the best we could to help raise her, my brothers and I, after our mother died. Perhaps we gave her too much freedom. I always wondered if that would cause problems when she eventually married. She was always rather spirited." Malcolm said quietly, as if he were talking to himself. "Perhaps we should’ve done more to curb that side of her."

William smiled wryly when he heard Malcolm describe his sister as spirited. "I’m glad you didn’t. She keeps me on my toes every day and that’s not a bad thing."

Malcolm shook his head. "I just want to know that she’s happy and well looked after."

"She is."

Malcolm sighed, still not looking completely convinced. "I searched through Arlen for her that day, after my uncle’s soldiers and you Islians had retreated. I combed the ruins until the sun went down and I could no longer see in front of me. At dawn, I started searching for her again. When I found the bodies of her maids, I assumed the worst." 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

William cast his mind back to that day, remembering the swarms of mercenaries hired by King Edward that had stormed Arlen Castle.

"I don’t agree with what happened that day to her maids, or any of the women harmed. Those mercenaries who reached the castle first...they weren’t under my direct command." William replied awkwardly, wondering why he felt such an urgent need to justify himself to this man. "I don’t believe in hurting women caught up within a battleground and my soldiers know that. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to oversee the behaviour of every man under my command."

Malcolm stared at him hard, as if trying to decide whether to believe him or not. "But women are always the spoils of war, are they not? Especially a beautiful girl like Camilla. I held no illusions of finding her still alive. I searched everywhere, hoping for the opportunity to bury her body with some dignity and pray for her soul. But she had just disappeared."

William listened quietly as the Moraigthian prince unburdened his thoughts.

Malcolm took a shuddering breath. "Those first months were agony, wondering if she was dead or alive. I’d often ask myself, was it better to know or not know? Not knowing at least, there was still a trace of hope..."

William stood, still as a statue.

"When I finally heard that she’d been taken to Islia as a prisoner, I wanted to claw my own eyes out. I would’ve preferred to find out she was dead. I had all there terrible thoughts about her being shamed and brutalised here, to pay for our father’s misdeeds."

William looked at Malcolm’s stricken face. "I can assure you, that never happened. From the first day, she was given all the honours due to a princess. My uncle announced her to be under his royal protection and she was always treated respectfully."

"I’m glad to hear of it." Malcolm said gruffly. "I had nightmares of her having been turned into a courtesan or the plaything belonging to one of your princes. I’d rather have killed her myself that have her endure that life."

William smirked inwardly as he remembered Camilla’s first months in Islia, when he’d been desperate to turn her into his plaything, just as Malcolm had described. He’d itched constantly to bed her, fully intending to discard her afterwards.

I think I’ll just keep those memories to myself, William thought. I really don’t need to provoke the murderous rage of a man dressed as a merchant.

Out loud, he replied. "Camilla was always treated well, I promise. At first, she wasn’t exactly happy to be in Islia, but she realised it had been the only way for her to survive the sacking of Arlen. In time, she grew accustomed to our ways."

"She wasn’t exactly happy?" Malcolm snorted. "For fuck’s sake. She would’ve fought like a wildcat."

William gave him a small smile. "She did."

Malcolm’s eyes looked at the ceiling briefly. "How exactly did she end up here? I mean, who physically carried her across the border?"

"I did. When I realised who she was."

"Why?"

"Because, as you said, to leave her in Moraigth would’ve been a death sentence."

"But why did you want to save her at all?" Malcolm insisted. "Why wouldn’t you just leave her to die amongst the flames? She was your enemy’s daughter."

"Because..." William hesitated. Why had he saved Camilla? Not only saved her, but carried her on his horse on the frantic ride back to Magdaline Castle, galloping through the night to reach safety. Then thrown himself to the ground to plead for King Edward’s forgiveness for sneaking out a royal hostage without previous word or permission. Begged for her life by convincing his uncle that she was a valuable pawn.

"Because it seemed a sin not to." William finally replied. "She was just a young girl caught amongst it all. I knew she had nothing to do with your father’s rebellion. Leaving her to die just seemed wrong, I guess."

William blinked, then continued. "And your father wasn’t my enemy. Not me personally, anyway. I even argued with my uncle before the invasion, saying that Duke Robert would make a better king and it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he toppled his brother. But my uncle had his own reasons for wanting Kenneth to keep his throne."

Malcolm pressed his lips into a thin line.

"It wasn’t my choice to fight on the side of King Kenneth." William said quietly. "But you know very well a knight must always fight for his side, even when he doesn’t agree with it."

Malcolm nodded slowly. "Yes, I know something about being made to fight in a conflict you don’t want to be part of." he conceded.

Both men were quiet for a moment, before Malcolm furrowed his brow with concern. "And when you found Camilla in Arlen, was she alright? Had she been harmed, or uh...?"

William looked at him with silent understanding. He knew Malcolm was trying to ask, without so many words, whether his sister had been violated by enemy forces.

"She was completely unharmed. The clever girl had managed to hide herself well." William smiled a little at the memory. "When I first saw her, she’d just been found and pulled out of her hiding place. The mercenaries...well, there was a scuffle and Camilla slapped one of them across the face. Hard."

Malcolm grinned proudly.

William smiled as well. "She was knocked unconscious by one of the brutes. That’s when I carried her out of the castle. Her being knocked out was a blessing, to be honest. Otherwise I would’ve had to contend with her slaps during the entire ride back here."

At that, Malcolm laughed. Then he turned serious again. "So you say that she was kept in Islia as a respected guest. Why not leave it at that? Who determined that she should be married to you?"

"That was my idea. King Edward agreed with it. We were wed two years ago."

"Why?" Malcolm watched him carefully.

William shrugged. "She wanted to stay in Islia. She feared what would happen if she was forced to return to Moraigth. She knew her uncle would make her life a living hell. Her becoming an Islian princess gave her the greatest protection."

"Is that so? How self sacrificing of you, to marry her to save her from our uncle." Malcolm smirked at him. "Is that really the reason?"

William stared back but said nothing.