Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 160: Food on a Plate

William’s eyes were tricking him. They had to be.

In the shafts of moonlight that streamed between the branches, he could see a Moraigthian man, wearing the simple green tunic that was standard issue for that country’s soldiers. He was smiling and muttering something, his eyes closed and his back against a tree trunk.

For a moment, William was nothing but confused. What was the man doing alone in a forest? Who did the other voice William had heard, belong to?

Then he saw a shadowy form seeming to move in front of the the man.

It was Joan Marcel. On her knees, pleasuring an enemy soldier.

William bit down on a curse, feeling his face grow hot with rage. Moving silently through the trees, he resolved to end both the man and the disloyal wench. Neither of his targets were paying any attention to their surroundings, making it very easy for him to approach.

William suddenly emerged from behind a nearby tree, startling the couple. The soldier’s eyes opened, then widened with surprise when he saw William closing the distance between them in two quick strides. It gave William a little satisfaction to know that his face was the last thing that soldier ever saw, before his throat was slit.

Joan screamed and tumbled backwards, watching with horror as the Moraigthian dropped to the ground with a gurgle, blood gushing from his neck. Looking up at William and the fury on his face, she tried to crawl backwards on her elbows and put some distance between them.

William turned his attention to Joan, taking a step so that he was deliberately standing on the skirt of her dress to prevent her crawling any further away. As nimble as a predator, he crouched and pointed the blade of his dagger at the terrified girl’s neck.

"How many times before have you done this? Met with enemy soldiers at night?" his voice was dangerously calm.

"N-n-never!" William could hear Joan’s teeth chattering as she fixed her eyes on the bloody blade at her throat. "This was the f-first time."

He chuckled quietly. "Ah, silly girl. You expect me to believe that? Tell me the truth before I lose all patience. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?"

"This was the first time I’d ever met up with that man!" Joan quickly replied.

"But with other enemy men?" William’s voice was still calm and sweet, even as he pressed the point of the dagger ever so slightly harder against her neck. A drop of blood bloomed and began to slowly roll down her white skin.

Joan closed her eyes. "Only a couple of others." she finally whispered.

"How many times before tonight?"

"I d-d-don’t know. A handful?" There were tears beginning to run down her face now.

"And what did they want from you? Besides the obvious, I mean." William screwed up his face in distaste. "They asked what you knew of our army’s plans? About the layout of our camp and what our planned movements were?"

"Yes."

"And what was in it for you, my dear Joan? I assume you didn’t do it just for the pleasure of being used like a slut. What did you get from these men in return?"

At that insult, Joan’s eyes opened and stared back at William, flashing with defiance. "Food." she gritted out. "I was always hungry."

William snorted. "Of course you are. We all are. This is a battlefield. Ask any man over there," he flicked his free hand in the general direction of the Islian camp, "and he’ll tell you that he’s always hungry and never gets his fill. You think you deserve more food than the men laying down their lives to defend our country?"

"I think I deserve something more than just the scraps an arrogant prince leaves behind!" Joan snapped back. "Tom never cared whether I ate or not. He never offered to share his rations. I had to spend my days scrounging for his leftovers and my nights under him without complaint."

"And you thought the Moraigthians could treat you better?" William asked coldly.

As if in reply, Joan slowly moved one of her hands to her skirt, her eyes never leaving the dagger. Her fingers fumbled, until they pulled something out of her pocket.

William glanced down and saw a handful of bread crusts and a small wedge of cheese in her grip. Flashes appeared briefly before his eyes from rage and his frame began to tremble.

"You betrayed us for this? For scraps?" he rasped. "Just to have more food on your plate?"

"Oh? It’s so easy for you to dismiss a plate of food, Your Grace!" Joan spat out his title with contempt. "You can dismiss my needs because you’ve never known true hunger in your life! It’s easy for a rich, spoiled man to judge the choices of someone with no other options!"

William laughed at that, a hollow laugh. Because of Joan’s actions, they’d all be knowing true hunger very soon. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

"You’re aware that Moraigthian soldiers lit fires in our camp last night?" he asked, his voice dull.

Joan nodded dismissively. "Tom mentioned something briefly. What of it? They’ve done that several times to provoke our men, haven’t they?"

"Yes." William replied icily. "But last night was different. With the information you provided, those dogs set all our forces’ provisions alight. Almost our entire supply of food and fodder is now gone."

Joan gasped. "Oh! Oh..I didn’t...I mean, Tom never told me that..."

"Do you know what that means?" he continued without mercy, in the same dull voice. "It means we have a maximum of four days worth of food left for the entire army and our animals, Joan. After that, we either wait for starvation to slowly claim us or we start eating our steeds. And without enough warhorses, we’ll likely lose the next battle. Either way, we’ll be defeated by the Moraigthians."

Her eyes bulged with shock. "I d-didn’t think-"

"No, you didn’t!" William growled. "That is my very point! You didn’t think at all. You never stopped to think how your sense of entitlement would impact others!"

The anger had all drained from Joan’s face, replaced by stark fear. "What will become of all of us, then? If we fall into their hands...?"

"I’ll be executed." William replied, staring her down. "Along with Tom and the other Devon princes. I suspect most of our men will be killed, those that aren’t sold into slavery. You, however, can probably head north and cross the border. Go whore yourself out to the entire Moraigthian army, if you like." He smiled bitterly at her. "Who’s the one with options now, then?"

Joan blanched. "My lord. I never planned for any of this to happen-"

William clicked his tongue with disgust. "Enjoy being ruled by a foreign monster." He started walking away, unwilling to hear any more of her pathetic excuses.

"Please, my lord!" William heard Joan scrambling up from the ground behind. A few moments later, he felt her grabbing his arm.

He shook her off roughly, his entire frame tight with fury and hopelessness. "Don’t touch me! I don’t want to fucking hear it! What you’ve done is treason, Joan. You’ve likely condemned your king and his entire army to death. Are you happy?"

"That was never my intention! I swear!" she pleaded.

"It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t your intention!" William shouted. "What matters is that it’s happened. You led our enemy right to our door! Everything His Majesty has worked for all these years, the prosperity he brought to our country - it could all be for nought! And for what? So that you can have some petty revenge because Tom didn’t treat you like you wanted?"

William was then struck by a terrible thought. If the Islian army fell and the Moraigthians were able to invade unchecked, they would just keep pushing southward. How long would it be until they reached Westerhaven?

How long until King Kenneth came face to face with Camilla again, who would almost certainly be a defenceless young widow?

He kept striding through the trees, fearing if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to control his urge to wrap his hands around Joan’s throat.

"Please, Your Grace-" the peasant girl’s beseeching voice was suddenly cut off by a choked groan.

William spun around to look at her and saw her slowly sinking to her knees, eyes wide open in shock. A trickle of what looked like blood began dripping from her parted lips as she made a gurgling noise.

A figure stood right behind her, partially concealed by shadows. William recognised the man right away.

Tom.

His cousin’s face was an impassive mask. Coolly wrenching his arm to pull his dagger out of Joan’s back, Tom stared down at the girl, who was now laying on the forest floor and looking at him, utterly stunned as the blood continued to dribble from her mouth.

"Treasonous bitch. This is better than what you actually deserve." Tom hissed as he squatted down to use the hem of her skirt to wipe his dagger clean. He then calmly stepped over her and walked towards William.

William cast one last look at Joan choking on her own blood, before he turned away with a shudder of unease. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to not regret taking her life." Tom’s face was as ruthless as his father’s.