Chapter Three #3
Roque disliked admitting when he was wrong, but he couldn’t deny it this time.
Even after Dimri’s warning, he’d thought he could get something out of Medea.
In a way, he had. He knew that she disliked Berith to the point where she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt one of his friends.
It wouldn’t have ended up well for her, but he supposed that she would’ve had time to plan her exit strategy since he and Dimri hadn’t stopped to tell anyone where they were going.
Which again, was Roque’s fault.
He wasn’t a planner, and that was okay. He didn’t need to be.
Maybe it could be useful to plan stuff sometimes, though, like how to interrogate people who obviously hated you.
If Dimri hadn’t been there, Roque would be dead, or as good as.
There had been too many demons to defend himself.
Medea hadn’t been particularly strong or good at fighting, but what about the other demons?
And even if none of them could fight, their number would have been enough.
Roque wouldn’t have escaped relatively unscathed from that tavern.
He certainly wouldn’t be walking down an alley on his way to a safe house.
He wanted to go back to the palace, but Dimri had said they’d go to one of his safehouses, so that was what they’d do.
Roque still wasn’t entirely sure he could trust the spymaster, but even if Dimri hated him, he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to him.
He knew how important Roque was, and not only because he was Berith’s friend.
He was also Berith’s bodyguard, and he was good at his job.
Unfortunately for him, his job seldom involved investigating and finding spies.
He’d thought he could approach this situation the way he approached everything—head-on and quickly—but clearly, he’d been wrong.
This wasn’t his area of expertise. It was Dimri’s, though, so Roque should probably start listening to him a little more, even though it pained him to admit that.
It wasn’t like he had to admit it to Dimri, anyway.
Dimri had saved Roque’s life. That was something Roque wouldn’t forget.
He was pretty sure that Dimri wouldn’t allow him to forget it, anyway.
He hadn’t done so yet, but what were the odds that he wouldn’t point out that he’d told Roque that was a bad idea?
Roque would if their places were reversed. He was petty like that.
Maybe the best thing to do right now was to talk to Dimri, admit he’d been wrong, and hope the spymaster wouldn’t hold it against him.
“So, what’s next?” he asked instead.
Dimri glanced at him. His black curls had become messy during the fight, and Roque had to resist the urge to reach over to push them down.
The messiness made Dimri look younger and more innocent.
Right now, he didn’t look like a prince’s spymaster.
It made Roque wonder how he’d ended up in the role.
He wouldn’t be Berith’s spymaster if he wasn’t good at it, but how had he become good at it?
How had he ended up in charge of a network of spies?
“We’ll lay low for a few hours,” Dimri said. “The safehouse is just a few streets down, so we don’t have to walk a lot. You can take care of the scratches on your cheek once we’re there, and we can get some food and rest.”
“And then?”
“We’ll go back to the palace once we’re sure things have calmed down.”
“Will they actually calm down? Because I don’t think that’ll happen until the war is over.”
“You’re not wrong, but I meant once things have calmed down at the tavern. I doubt that many of the demons will continue coming after us, but just in case, this is safer.”
“They’re probably back at the tavern getting drunk again.”
“There’s a good chance they are.”
“But we’re still going to hide.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but remember what happened the last time you didn’t listen to my advice.”
Roque grinned. “That’s cold.”
“It’s true. How’s your cheek doing?”
Roque wanted to shake Dimri as badly as he wanted to kiss him. He did neither of those things. He needed to keep his hands and lips to himself before Dimri went to Berith and told him he wanted nothing to do with Roque.
Roque needed Dimri to keep Berith safe, which meant he’d do whatever the spymaster asked.
Well, mostly. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t argue as he did so.
Dimri might have been right this time around, but that didn’t mean he would always be right.
Roque had made a mess today, but he’d be more careful next time.
He didn’t want to die, but even more importantly, he needed to stick around and protect his prince.
That would be hard to do from the grave.
Dimri finally slowed down. He turned one more corner, looking back as if he expected the demons to be behind them.
None of them were. Roque wondered what state the tavern was in.
He didn’t know how strong the explosive device Dimri had used had been, but hopefully, it would keep Medea distracted for a while.
Roque wondered if she knew anything about the person they suspected of being a spy. Even if she did, she wouldn’t tell them. She’d rather kill them.
She’d already tried once.
Dimri paused. He opened a small door Roque hadn’t even noticed in the wall they’d been walking along and slipped through.
Roque followed his lead, surprised when he stepped into a nice courtyard.
There was a small fountain in the corner, two benches, and a bunch of potted plants.
It was peaceful and not at all what Roque had expected.
Dimri closed the door behind them before leading Roque toward the house. “We’ll be safe here.”
“Who does this house belong to?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
The house didn’t look lived in when they walked into its small entrance. Everything was clean and neat, with not one object out of place. It was nicely furnished and comfortable-looking, but it wasn’t a home. It was a house, or in this case, a safe house.
“Why does it matter?” Dimri asked.
“How do you know we’re safe?”
Dimri looked amused. “You think the owner of this place would betray us?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“You’re not wrong. Normally, it would be possible, but since the house belongs to me, I think we’re safe.”
Roque hadn’t expected that, but maybe he should have. Of course the person Dimri trusted the most was himself.
Right now, that seemed to be the smartest way to approach the mess they were in.
They didn’t know who they could trust beyond their little group, and Dimri wasn’t exactly part of it.
He wasn’t part of Berith’s family. He worked for Berith, and Berith no doubt cared about him, but it wasn’t the same.
He truly didn’t have anyone he could trust except himself.
Maybe Roque could do something to change that.
Maybe he could get Dimri to trust him. It wouldn’t be easy, and Roque had many other things to focus on, but he’d try, if anything so that Dimri could relax around him.
There was a lot of work to be done, and it would be faster and easier to do so as a team.
It wasn’t like they had a choice, anyway. Berith had made that clear.
More than that, Roque wanted Dimri to trust him, but he wasn’t ready to analyze why he felt that way just yet.