**THE PRINCESS SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE, and considered a sequel to THE GOLDEN QUEEN/A BRAZEN LOVE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE GOLDEN UNIVERSE NOVELS AND THE BRAZEN NOVELS TO READ THIS SERIES!♦
Cordelia, the Princess of Totresia, has alw...
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♪ All the drinks I had, banging on my forehead How did I get back? Damn, I'm never gonna drink again ♪ {Jojo—Pedialyte}
After what felt like hours—though in truth only ten, fifteen minutes—Cordelia grew restless. Sick of the increasing moaning that seemed to come from an adjacent corridor, she craved to bang on the door and beg for attention. But to do that, she had to ensure Helen was awake and ready for such a sound.
As Cordelia lifted her arm, bracing to wrap her hand around Helen's shoulder and shake it, the door blasted open, banging against the wall. In alarm, Cordelia let out a shriek, and Helen jolted upright, her apple-green eyes wide and worried, her head spinning to and fro in search of the ruckus.
"Huh?" She viewed Cordelia, blinked once, then turned to the ominous shadow towering in the doorway, waiting for acknowledgement. "What in the devil..." She flipped to Cordelia, her mouth opening as if to release an otherworldly scream.
On instinct, Cordelia clamped her hand over Helen's mouth, startling her into silence. "No," she whispered. Keeping her palm compressed over Helen's lips, she switched to the arrival. "Yes? What is it? Who are you?" She squinted, as the opened door now blocked the sconce from illuminating the small space.
The being marched forward, stopping a few feet away. The shadows dancing over his weathered face were menacing, worsened by the peaked officer hat settled atop his head. Cordelia struggled to view his features, but she knew immediately that she'd never seen or met him before.
"Mhm. Anglais," he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he removed his hat. A mop of maroon hair flopped out and sprang to life on either side of his large ears. And with the hat no longer concealing his face, he wasn't so threatening, though his scowl prompted Cordelia to lean backwards.
Helen gulped as she took Cordelia's hand and withdrew it from her mouth. "English, yes. Who are you?"
Cordelia winced; from the man's navy-colored uniform, the gun at his belt, and his stiff posture, he had to be a prison guard or a policeman. And to use such tones with the man who might decide their fate right then and there... bad idea.
Clearing his throat, the man glared between the two of them, his lips thinning as he unleashed his heavily accented words. "Which one of you is... uh... the Princess?"
Helen gasped, shriveling against the rear facade, and Cordelia resisted the impulse to let her chin drop.
How had these people, these captors, known who she was? Cordelia had been so careful, concealing her identity, often masking her dialect so that no one would suspect she came from Totresia. She even spoke in French—thankful she'd been taught at a young age—and once or twice had pretended to be mute. She'd kept her hair covered, her cheeks and lips and eyes coated in dark makeup that transformed her into someone else, and whenever possible kept a hood over her head.
