**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! AS WELL AS BOOK ONE, PRINCESS OF CANDOR, AND...
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♪ And what you sold me, I never bought it This is not about how I found out that you were vacant ♪ {BANKS—This is not about us}
Cordelia wasn't sure how much time had passed before those stairs creaked with life again. She'd gone in and out of sleep, holding on to the empty bowl of broth as if it were a tether to the living world, and letting go of it meant succumbing to death. She'd have held Helen's hand, but Helen remained on the opposite side of her cage, curled up, quiet.
The illumination from the swaying lamp was flickering, dying, and with it died Cordelia's hopes of getting out of her enclosure, alive.
But when the steps croaked, and a slither of light from overhead swept into the dank, darkened room, she let go of the bowl and stood up to grab the bars. She was small enough that her head didn't hit the ceiling, yet the stench of it reached her nostrils, and she frowned as she watched a figure descending into the area, holding a torch.
When the individual held the torch to its face, Cordelia's frown deepened.
"You," she said, teeth jammed together. She envisioned this being coming close enough for her to snatch the torch and set his grubby outfit on fire, and watch him burn to ashes for what he'd done to her.
"Me," said Thomas, offering a snide smile as he approached. He remained out of reach, likely well aware of the lengths Cordelia would go to incinerate him, literally. "How are you faring on this journey?"
Helen, who'd awoken from her comatose-like slumber, slammed into her enclosure's bars and growled. "How are you faring, he asks? He dares?" Cordelia turned to her and saw that her skin was clammy and pale, and droplets of sweat were gathered over her forehead.
She should not be over-exerting herself like this.
Cordelia shooed Helen off, but the young woman didn't budge, staying close and gripping the bars as if about to rip them out of their secured sockets.
"I apologize," said Thomas, bowing forward with his free hand over his heart. He'd taken up his poised, aristocratic accent again, as if he hadn't shown his true colors hours before. "I realize it was harsh of me to decide on your accommodations for you. But you see, we needed time to handle some business upstairs," he jutted the torch towards the ceiling, "and I worried you might both get in the way. It was the best alternative I had."
"Oh, and killing many men in the process, that was necessary? And your business is handled now, is it?" Cordelia set her hands to her hips; she'd have no opportunity to inflame to Thomas' clothes today, of that she had no doubt. It was no use showing herself as menacing, not with several thick bars of rotted steel separating them. "I imagine you had to go through all the visitors and inform them you had taken control of this ship and are steering it towards the Americas, and not towards Spain, as they had hoped? And any who were unhappy were tossed overboard?"
