Chapter Seven
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THE SOUP WAS NOTHING special—dried meat and vegetables Roque had found in the cupboards that Dimri hadn’t even remembered were there—but it was hot, and that was what mattered. Dimri filled two bowls and handed one over to Roque, who took it with a smile.
“This is good,” Roque said after his first spoonful, though his expression suggested he was lying.
“It’s good enough,” Dimri replied. “You did a good job.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. The safe house was quieter than the palace could ever be, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was peaceful, even though there were people out there who wanted to kill them.
“How long are we staying?” Roque asked.
“A few days. Maybe a week.” Dimri set down his spoon. “Berith’s orders. He wants to see if we can draw the spy out.”
“Do you think it’ll work?”
“I don’t know.”
As he’d shown before, Roque wasn’t built for hiding and waiting, so this had to be hard for him. They’d already spent four days holed up in the tavern in front of Abath’s house, and now they had to hide here for who knew how long.
“You’ve worked for Berith for a long time,” Dimri said, more to fill the silence than because he needed the information. He already knew how long Roque had worked for Berith.
“Seven years.” Roque’s expression softened. “Since Cyrea was born. I was assigned to protect her first, actually.”
Now that was news to Dimri. He knew that Roque had been with Berith for that long, but not that he’d been meant to be Cyrea’s bodyguard. “The princess?”
“She was so small. Barely bigger than my hand. But even then, she had this presence, like she knew she was important.” He chuckled. “And she is.”
Dimri found himself curious. He’d seen the princess around the palace, of course, but always from a distance. His work kept him in the shadows, away from the prince’s daily life, even though his every moment was dedicated to protecting them. “What’s she like?”
“Fierce.” Roque’s smile widened. “Did you know that during the attack, she stabbed one of Ramiel’s demons with a butter knife?”
“A butter knife?”
“Right in the thigh. She was so proud of it when she told me. She asked me if she’d done good.”
Dimri snorted, almost choking on his soup. “She’s seven.”
“Seven and already more dangerous than half the palace guards.” Roque’s expression grew fond.
There was something in his voice that Dimri had never heard coming from him. It was strange seeing this side of him, but Dimri liked it. “You care a lot about them,” Dimri said.
“They gave me a home. Before Berith, I was just another palace guard. I was replaceable, and maybe I still am, but I feel useful. I feel like I matter. What about you? How long have you been Berith’s spymaster?”
“Five years officially. Longer unofficially.”
“What does that mean?”
Dimri hesitated. He didn’t usually talk about his past—it wasn’t relevant to his work, and he didn’t want most people to know.
Roque was different, though. “I grew up on the streets,” he said finally.
“I had no family, no home. No one to protect me, and a lot of people ready to hurt me. When you live like that, you learn things. You meet people others don’t see, and it’s not often pleasant, but it’s useful.
It helped me survive. I started selling information to the palace’s spymaster when I was twelve.
Nothing important at first, just gossip and rumors. ”
“And they took you under their wing?”
“Eventually. She had me investigated first—I would have done the same thing in her place. But eventually, she offered me a place by her side. She warned me that it wasn’t easy and that I’d always live in the shadows, but that was fine with me.
I already did. She gave me a job, with steady pay and a purpose beyond just staying alive.
I could protect people with my knowledge. ”
“Is that what you wanted? To protect people?”
The question caught Dimri off-guard. He’d never really thought about it in those terms. He’d been trying to survive, and he had.
“I spent my whole childhood watching people get hurt because they couldn’t afford protection, or were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
” He paused, thinking about all the threats he’d identified and neutralized before they could reach Berith’s family.
He’d kept Berith alive, and in turn, Berith had taken care of the people who lived in his territory.
He’d made life better for a lot of people.
“When I was fifteen, I watched a family get slaughtered because they couldn’t pay protection money to a gang.
I knew it was going to happen, but I didn’t warn them.
I was just trying to survive myself, and I was afraid. ”
Roque had stopped eating. He was watching Dimri, and the intensity of it made Dimri uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being open like this, but it felt like a necessity.
“That night, I decided that if I ever had the power to prevent something like that, I would,” Dimri continued. “Even if it meant putting myself at risk.”
“And working for Berith gave you that power.”
“Working for Berith gave me the resources to build something bigger than my survival.”
Dimri was glad all of that was out there, but he hoped he’d never have to talk about it again.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
Dimri could hear the rain beginning to fall outside.
It was cozy, and it made him wonder if they’d still be there in a year or five, if this might be their future.
“I never knew any of that,” Roque said.
“Only Berith does. People just see the spy, like you did initially. I’m the paranoid one who trusts no one and plans for everything.” Dimri shrugged, wincing when pain flashed in his shoulder. “It’s easier that way.”
“Easier for who?”
“For everyone. People don’t expect much from someone who grew up with nothing. But they trust Berith’s spymaster.” And it was easier for Dimri because it meant he didn’t have to be vulnerable. He was still protecting himself, just in different ways than he had when he was a child on the streets.
Roque stared at Dimri until he made Dimri want to squirm. “You’re not what I thought you were,” he said.
“What did you think I was?”
“Cold. Calculating. Someone who cared more about information than people.”
“I am cold and calculating. It’s what keeps people alive.”
“But that’s not all you are.”
Dimri didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he turned his attention back to his soup, even though he could feel Roque watching him.
“Thank you,” Roque said after a moment.
“For what?”
“For getting me out of that alley alive.” He gestured vaguely at the space around them. “For taking care of things.”
“It’s my job.”
“No. Your job is gathering intelligence. Saving my life was something else.”
Dimri felt heat rise in his cheeks. He hoped he wasn’t blushing, but he couldn’t swear on it. “We’re partners. We’re supposed to watch each other’s backs.”
“Are we? Partners, I mean. We work together because Berith ordered us to, but neither of us was happy when he did.”
Dimri thought about the fight in the alley, about how natural it felt to be sitting here sharing a meal with Roque, but also about how they’d initially clashed.
They’d learned to work together, and Dimri couldn’t wait to see what came next for them.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think we are.” Possibly in more ways than Roque was thinking about right now.
Roque grinned. “Good. Because I’m starting to think we make a pretty effective team. At the very least, I need you to stick around to continue saving my ass.”
For the first time in years, Dimri didn’t feel like he was facing the world alone, and he quite liked that.
* * * *
ROQUE HADN’T EXPECTED to end the day like this—wounded and sitting at a table in Dimri’s safe house, eating soup and talking to the spymaster.
He certainly hadn’t expected to end the day feeling like he knew Dimri better than he had when he’d woken up this morning.
Considering the day they’d had, he was surprised that both of them had lasted long enough to finish their meal and sit in a comfortable silence the way they were.
Dimri was too close. The house was nice but small, including the kitchen.
Maybe it was because Dimri rarely used the place.
Knowing him, he probably didn’t see a reason to make it more comfortable than it already was, especially when he wasn’t planning on using it regularly.
They both fit at the table, but they kept bumping into each other.
Roque didn’t mind, and he didn’t think Dimri did, either. He kept glancing at Roque, and the only reason Roque knew that was that he kept glancing at Dimri. Something was simmering between them, and it wasn’t soup.
After the conversation they’d just had, Roque felt like he understood Dimri better.
He wouldn’t have thought it possible just a few weeks ago when they’d been clashing over how to handle the situation.
In the end, though, they both wanted the same thing.
They were trying to protect people. They didn’t do it the same way, but they didn’t need to.
Dimri’s spying was just as effective as Roque’s sword.
He was just much more secretive about all of it.
Dimri was secretive about a lot of things, which was one of the reasons Roque had a hard time believing the spymaster had told him all that about how he’d grown up and how he’d ended up at the palace. Why had he told Roque of all people? Was it because they were working together?
Roque suspected that might be part of it, but there was more. He’d noticed the way Dimri kept looking at him, and not only during dinner. It was the same way he kept looking at Dimri. They hadn’t talked about it, but they both wanted more than the friendship growing between them.
It was a very bad idea.
Now wasn’t the moment to do something like that.
They needed to focus on surviving and on making sure that Berith and his territory would survive, too.
They couldn’t afford to be distracted, but it was hard to remember that when Dimri smiled from the other side of the table.
Roque wanted to reach for him and pull him closer.
He wanted to promise Dimri that he was there for him and that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Dimri didn’t have to be alone anymore. He’d never have to be alone again if he didn’t want to.
But Roque couldn’t make that kind of promise.
As much as he wanted to, neither of them knew what would happen.
They might manage to defeat Ramiel, but there was a high chance that they wouldn’t be able to, or that one of them would get hurt in the process.
Could Roque really go into this wondering if they’d both make it out alive?
Would they be able to put aside their feelings for each other if they had to?
Because they would. They wouldn’t be fighting Ramiel together.
Roque’s place was with Berith, while Dimri’s was wherever he deemed it necessary.
Roque was pretty sure the answer to that question was no, yet he still found himself leaning closer.
Dimri blinked, still watching him. He didn’t move, but he also didn’t try to stop Roque when he invaded his personal space.
He had to know what Roque was about to do, right?
He had to have noticed that Roque couldn’t look away from him, even when he should.
Roque could see Dimri watching him. He licked his lips, smiling when he heard Dimri suck in a breath. Yes, they both wanted this, and for once, Roque was willing to throw caution to the wind. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if he acted on this, would it? It was their business, not anyone else’s.
The sound of a door slamming in the distance made both of them jump.
Dimri was on his feet before Roque could say anything.
For a moment, Roque thought he was running from him, but he realized that wasn’t the case when Dimri took out a knife from one of the drawers.
“I’ll check and make sure no one’s coming,” he murmured before stepping out of the room.
Once again, he was protecting them. Roque wasn’t surprised, but he did wish they hadn’t been interrupted. He could be kissing Dimri right now, for fuck’s sake. If someone had found them, Roque would kick their ass for interrupting.
But Dimri returned a few moments later and shook his head. “A cat.”
Well, that was Roque’s plan ruined. He couldn’t exactly kick the cat’s ass, although he was tempted to try because instead of sitting next to him again, Dimri grabbed their empty bowls and started cleaning up the kitchen. Roque watched him, mourning the opportunity he’d had.
Maybe it was better that way. Even though they clearly both wanted each other, they couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Ramiel would take advantage of that, and neither of them would ever forgive themselves if something happened because of that.
They needed to get rid of Ramiel. Once they did, Roque and Dimri would have all the time they wanted to explore what was growing between them.
They just had to survive until then, which was easier said than done, unfortunately.
They would do it, though. Roque was sure they could.
Knowing that he would have this waiting for him once everything was over would give him one more thing to fight for—not that he needed it.
He hadn’t been planning on dying, even before he and Dimri started whatever this was.
Still, it would be nice to have Dimri to come home to as a celebration for kicking Ramiel’s ass.
And in the meantime, Roque could watch Dimri.
He could imagine what his future with Dimri would be like.
He’d have to put together a gift basket for Berith once things calmed down.
He was pretty sure the prince had done this on purpose, but even if he hadn’t, the least Roque could do was thank him.
His friend had tried playing matchmaker, and he’d succeeded.
Well, Roque wasn’t sure he could count this as a success since he and Dimri weren’t together and might never be.
That wasn’t an outcome he wanted to consider, though.
He and Dimri would be together when the war was over because they’d both survive, and they both wanted it.
Roque refused to consider any alternative or to give Ramiel more power than he already had.
Ramiel wouldn’t know what hit him. The demon didn’t understand love or wanting to protect people, and that would be his downfall.
Hopefully.