“You idiot!” the man with the huge moustache says. “What did you do?”

Siegfried puts his hand on my shoulder and gently presses me forward. I stand still, and shove his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“You kidnapped the princess?” Moustache asks incredulously. “How could you―”

“You were going to hand me over to them,” Siegfried says. “You extracted value from me, and I had become useless to you, so I’ve made myself valuable again, General Olmstead.”

Olmstead tugs at his moustache and eyes me cynically. “You could start a war, Siegfried. Your value to us was to kill the others in line in front of you. You failed to do that, so don’t complain to me about whether we were going to hand you over to Nordia or not.”

“Let me go,” I say, forcing myself to demand my release in the most authoritative voice I can manage.

Olmstead snaps at me. “Sydia does not recognize the crown’s authority any longer. Tell me, girl, was the king serious about his deal?”

Girl? He could have called me that a week ago, but I’m a fucking princess now.

“You’ll address me correctly,” I say, “if you wish to speak to me. You may not recognize Nordia’s sovereignty over Sydia, but you’ll treat me with the respect you would give to any foreign leader.”

He starts to laugh, and I expect him to finally treat me with respect when he’s finally done laughing. He’s only laughing because he’s pleasantly surprised by my ability to keep such cool in this stressful situation, right?”

“Ahh,” Olmstead says, panting for breath. “That’s a good one.”

He looks toward Siegfried. “Do you see? This is why we need to separate. Nordia takes this common whore and puts a ring on her finger and crown on her head, and suddenly we have to treat her with respect?” He shakes his head in disgust. “Throw her in the dungeon.”

Siegfried reaches out to protest, but Olmstead backhands him in the face, then kicks him to the ground. “Both of them! They can be neighbors.”

The guards grab hold of me roughly and drag me down the hall, and I decide to walk with them so they stop dragging me. Only two guards restrain me, while at least four wrestle and fight with Siegfried, until one finally slams the butt of his rifle into Siegfried’s head, knocking him out cold. After that, it only takes three of them to haul him down the steps behind me.

We get down the steps, and I realize it is an actual dungeon. It’s a famous one, too, one I was planning on touring during my vacation in Nordia. Never in a million years did I think I’d be locked up in here.

At least I know where I am. This dungeon is located in an old castle―much smaller than the one in the capital―and it’s maybe ten miles south of the defensive line that Nordia has set up for the ceasefire.

“Isn’t having a dungeon, and using it, going to make you guys look like, uh, bad guys? Good guys don’t use dungeons,” I say.

The guard only answers by shoving me into one of the cells. He slams the door shut and locks it.

“Hypocrites!” I shout, but the guards go back up the stairs after they lock Siegfried’s unconscious ass into the cell across from me.

If I recall my history correctly, the entire reason a Nordian prince must marry a commoner was that Sydia suggested it during unification. They feared that a monarchy would become too strong and entrenched, and having commoners become royalty was a way to keep an air of egalitarianism.

I guess they don’t feel that way anymore? Or at least not about me. Maybe they don’t like American commoners becoming princesses.

When I realize that the only “toilet” is a hole dug in the ground, I cringe. I guess I’ll just have to hold it in.

There’s one fluorescent light connected to a loose wire located near the steps, but it’s pretty dark overall. The light only seems bright because it’s the sole source of light in the dungeon. If I do have to make use of that hole in the ground, I’ll want as little light as possible, especially if Siegfried wakes up.

I have to have faith that Rikard can rescue me. Whether he negotiates my release, or bursts in here with guns blazing, I know he’ll do everything in his power to save me.

I lay down on the bed and try my best to clear my head. I might have to do something for myself while I’m here―if there’s any chance to escape or to convince that mustached idiot Olmstead to consider releasing me, I need to jump on it. My best bet is probably to try to sway the negotiations once they start.

* * *

I jolt awake, not even remembering falling asleep.

The harsh fluorescent light and my torn dress reminds me where I am, and when I sit up, I see Siegfried standing in his cell, watching me.

“I’ll get us out of here,” he says.

“You’ll...you’ll…” I stammer. “You got us in here!”

He looks down his nose at me, as if I’m just too common of a commoner, a dumb idiot American who can’t understand such complicated things. The facts couldn’t be more simple, however. Siegfried started all of this, and he’s the reason I’m here.

“I’ll take my chances with Olmstead,” I say.

“If negotiations fail,” Siegfried says, “then I’ll be valuable to them once again.”

“How’s that?” I ask. “If you were valuable, you wouldn’t be down here in the dungeon, would you?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to explain myself to you―”

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not like you have anything better to do. You’re locked up in a cell, with not even a literal bucket to shit in, so it’s not like you can claim you’re too busy to take time explaining it to me. If you want to convince me of anything after kidnapping me, you asshole, then you’ll have to explain a lot.”

He starts pacing back and forth, no longer looking at me.

“If I tell you what I’m thinking,” Siegfried says, “you have to promise not to get emotional on me.”

“You think just because I’m a woman that I’ll get emotional? You sexist asshole.”

“Do you promise?” he asks.

“Sure, why not?”

“You see,” Siegfried says, “if the ceasefire fails and war is declared, we can once again target the line of succession―the original plan. With Rikard and Jannika out of the way, I’m king, and they can control me.”

“You’re bragging to me about being a puppet king?” I ask. “For real? My husband is a real prince, beholden to no one.”

“In this scenario,” Siegfried says, “your husband is dead. What do you think that makes you? You seduced Rikard for the throne, and what I’m trying to tell you is that if Rikard loses that throne...then you don’t have to seduce me. I’ll take you.”

I stare at him in astonished disbelief. He thinks I seduced Rikard just for the throne? He thinks I don’t actually care about my husband, that I don’t love him? That I’d just jump from one Nordgaard to another, so long as he had a crown on his head?

“Like I said,” I say it in a level tone, not wanting him to think I’m getting ‘emotional,’ “I’ll take my chances with Olmstead. And you talk a big game about killing Rikard, but you didn’t do it back in the restaurant when you had the chance. You care more about saving your own ass than anything else.

I lie back down on my uncomfortable excuse for a bed. Not because I’m tired, but because I’d rather look up at the ceiling than at Siegfried.