Chapter Twelve #2
“If it was, I didn’t see it,” Adrien said, smiling with the wicked gleam of a true brat. “Did you?”
***
WES WOKE TO THE RATTLING of wheels. He was lying on the floor of a rather well-appointed carriage, which still had the de Mazet crest stamped on the leather benches, while trees swept past through the open windows.
His hands and feet were bound, but whoever had tied him up had made the mistake of tying Wes’ hands in front of him, and they hadn’t tied him particularly well.
After a lifetime at sea, Wes knew knots, and these were sloppy at best. He set to work untying the knots around his wrists first, trying not to think about Delauney waiting for him at the estate.
He threw the ropes binding his feet onto the carriage floor with a curse.
He had no doubt where the guards were taking him.
If Lennox’s nephew was so incensed at his terrible mistreatment, that probably meant that Lennox wanted Wes delivered to him personally.
He was precisely the sort of cruel, priggish, and not incredibly clever noble who thought he could get away with abducting someone in broad daylight.
Or moonlight. It didn’t really matter what time of day it was.
Wes eyed the road falling away beyond the carriage.
They slowed down briefly to let a man on a horse ride by, but not enough for Wes to safely tumble out of the carriage.
If he jumped now, he’d probably break something, which wouldn’t help his chances of escape.
The best option he had was to wait until they were nearly at the gates of Duciel, where he could jump off the carriage and disappear into the city.
Or, he thought bitterly, he could wait until he reached Lennox and deal with him directly.
Still, he had to get back to Delauney somehow. He would have to wait in Duciel for a few days and head back to the harbor before the Manatee departed. He had no intention of stepping aboard again after Peter’s part in this, but Delauney might be there, at least.
After what felt like an eternity of running the evening’s events over in his head, Wes sat up as the carriage started to slow down.
He glanced out of the window and saw a massive stone wall towering over a tidy street.
Had they already reached Duciel? Voices spoke near the horses, and Wes tensed as footsteps approached the carriage door.
He braced himself, crouching awkwardly as the carriage door unlatched and a figure stood silhouetted against a street lamp, broad shoulders blocking out the light.
Wes flung himself at the man with a ragged shout. His fist connected with flesh, but the man turned his head at the last second as they went rolling in the dust. Wes fought like a cat, but his attacker was stronger, holding him down with an arm over his neck.
“For fuck’s sake, Wes,” Ferrin said. “That would have broken my nose if I hadn’t moved in time.”
“What?” Wes asked, squinting up at him. “Ferrin? How?”
“Your man went to the king,” Ferrin said, releasing Wes at last. Wes groaned. Out of all the possibilities he’d conjured on the carriage ride, he hadn’t imagined Delauney going directly to the king. “And it’s a good thing he did. Sabre and I only just made it in time to intercept you.”
“Sabre?” Wes asked, getting to his feet before Ferrin could offer a hand up. “De Valois? The one everyone’s afraid of?”
“Who’s afraid of me?” That voice came from the other side of the carriage. Sabre de Valois looked refreshed and bright-eyed, cheerfully tying up one of the guards who’d accosted Wes in the garden. Laurent stood nearby, fastidiously scraping mud off his boots.
“The nobility,” Laurent said. “You’re gaining a reputation, my love.”
“Only because they keep doing things like this,” Sabre said. “Are you frightened, Laurent?”
Laurent smiled and strolled over to trail his fingers through Sabre’s hair. At the last moment, he clenched his hand, dragging Sabre’s head back. Sabre’s breath hitched.
“Not particularly,” Laurent said, looking down at him fondly.
Wes looked away. He’d thought that he had an exhibitionist kink, but that moment between Sabre and his lover was somehow more intimate than any number of stints at the sailor’s library.
“I could have handled that on my own, you know,” Wes muttered, brushing off his suit. It was already ruined after being shoved into hedges and thrown into and out of carriages, but Wes held out a thin, vain hope of recovering it.
“You’re welcome,” Ferrin said.
“I had a plan,” Wes said, not quite ready to admit that it hadn’t been much of a plan beyond run away.
The brother Wes had known as a younger man would have tried to argue. This Ferrin simply closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m taking you to the palace,” he said at last. “I assume we’re convening there?”
Sabre nodded. “I’ll clean up this mess if you’ll prevent the one who probably insisted on coming along.”
Ferrin bowed and grabbed Wes by the arm. “We should expect the king shortly.”
“You don’t need me at the palace,” Wes insisted as Ferrin pulled him away from the carriage. “But if you need someone to kick Captain Lennox in the teeth, I can offer my services.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Ferrin said.
Wes narrowed his eyes. “You never talked like that before.”
“I’ve been exposed to bad influences over the years, and you happen to be my brother.” Ferrin led them up the street, watching Wes carefully. “Are you hurt? Your neck is bruised.”
“Delauney’s parents hired guards with a delicate touch,” Wes said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I’m fine.”
“I’m not,” Ferrin said. “You were just abducted, Wes. Do you still intend on dallying with that de Mazet fellow, given what his parents are capable of?”
“It isn’t dallying,” Wes said, hunching his shoulders defensively. “And yes.”
Ferrin’s hard frown didn’t twitch. “You must truly care for him, then.”
Wes looked away. “He’s the softest touch I ever met. I have no idea how he managed to get by in the Starian navy without losing that. He’s also brilliant, and kind, and he ended up that way despite being raised by the de Mazets.”
“And you were accepted into one of the best colleges in Gerakia despite being raised by the Leonharts,” Ferrin said. Wes stared at him, surprised to find a flicker of pride behind his dark eyes. “I didn’t know you liked the stars.”
“I didn’t know you were capable of critiquing our parents,” Wes said.
“We’ve all changed,” Ferrin said. “Some slower than others.”
Wes thought that Ferrin wasn’t referring to him, in that case. It was strange to see him so vulnerable. Wes was used to exchanging a few terse sentences every few years and fleeing to the navy again, but Ferrin seemed more open than before, less rigid and unshakable.
“When this is done,” Ferrin said, looking pointedly away from Wes as they turned toward the broad plaza before the palace.
“You and your man can stay at my house before you return to your ship. Silver, my submissive, he’d insist on it.
And Louise would want to see you. If that’s something you’d like. ”
Wes wanted to ask Ferrin what he meant by my submissive, but the thought of slinking past Louise after nearly being dumped at Lennox’s doorstep sent a wave of guilt crashing over him. “I suppose if she wants to...”
“She does,” Ferrin said, before Wes could talk himself out of it. “Very much.”
Wes ducked his head as they fell under the shadow of the palace. The distance between them still felt too great, complicated by years of resentment and silence, but Wes could hear the yearning in Ferrin’s voice, too powerful and earnest to ignore.
“All right,” he said at last, his voice soft. “I suppose it’s been long enough.”
The sun was rising over the palace as Ferrin snuck Wes in through the barracks, pausing to speak quietly to a guard in a new uniform.
She was a tall, black-haired girl with ramrod-straight posture and hard eyes, but she couldn’t have been older than sixteen at most, if Wes was any judge.
Still, she barked out Ferrin’s orders quickly enough, and the guards in the barracks listened despite her lack of dominance.
“Since when are you letting children into the guard?” Wes asked Ferrin as she marched off.
“Since she started sleeping outside my office and wouldn’t go away,” Ferrin whispered back. “I could either train her properly or send her out on the street, and Silver would never speak to me again if I did that. She’s staying in the attic room in our house right now.”
“You’re not taking in runaways?” Wes asked, startled.
Ferrin scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away. “I learned my lesson the first time, didn’t I?”
Wes thought of the moment he’d realized that Ferrin had betrayed him to their parents.
There’d been confusion in Ferrin’s eyes as Wes had been dragged out the door by representatives of King Emile’s navy, as though he hadn’t expected it to go quite so far.
Wes had hated him for his na?veté for years, but now that he could see the marks it had left on Ferrin’s life, he couldn’t stir up the old, sluggish resentment that had dogged him for so long.
“You were young,” Wes said.
Ferrin still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “So were you. So is the girl. She goes by Odette, and she says she’s twenty-two. Try not to look too dubious when she tells you that.”
“Twenty-two?” Wes asked, peering back at her as Ferrin led him out of the barracks and into the palace.
“Try fifteen,” Ferrin said. “It’s a shame that she’s a natural with the sword. She won’t be allowed to do more than pass messages and stand in the back on parade days for years.”
Wes stared at Ferrin as they passed through the palace hallways, barely taking in the opulent paintings and carvings lining the walls.
Who was this man? How much had he and Louise changed while Wes sulked in isolation at sea?
He drifted at Ferrin’s back, rubbing his sore throat and trying not to think about the years they’d lost.