2 #3
Despite how irritating I find him, he has a point.
I’m under contract. I took a job and made a commitment to serve as his bodyguard.
If there was one thing the instructors drilled into us at the Academy, it was to operate with a sense of pride in our work—to do it well, whether we liked the client or not, whether the pay was good or not.
We were trained to be dependable and trustworthy, and no matter what I think of the prince as a person, I refuse to be someone who bails on a job when it becomes dangerous.
“Look, I think your family has its issues, but your father has ruled better than the last king, that’s for damn sure.
If this coup is real—if your family was murdered—they didn’t deserve that.
And you might be an asshole, but I don’t think you deserve death, either.
So I’m willing to help you, but when it comes to matters of your safety, you’ve got to listen to me and do what I say. ”
“I can do that, beautiful.” His lashes lower seductively as he smiles.
Oh gods, that’s a dangerous expression. “No. Don’t start looking at me that way either.”
“Why not? Afraid you might like it too much? I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, when I was with Yufia.”
Shit, I hope he can’t tell that I’m blushing. “Since you brought it up, let’s be clear on one point. You and I will never fuck, ever.”
“Never ever?” His eyebrows lift. “So sure of that, are you?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. Especially since you just swore that you hate me, and now you’re smiling and flirting right after finding out that your entire family might be dead.”
His grin vanishes, shadows deepening on his face as he looks down at the forest floor. “That can’t be true. We have guards, defenses, safe zones within the palace. Secure chambers. Even if there was an attack, it can’t be as bad as Praxid said. He was mistaken.”
“I hope so,” I tell him, with all the gentleness I can manage. “For now, let’s focus on getting out of this forest. If we keep heading northwest, we’ll come out in the Brasspool District of the capital.”
“Brasspool?” He makes a face. “That part of the city is a maze, and it’s filthy.”
“Which means it’s the perfect place to hide you while I make inquiries about what happened. We need information and money. And probably masks, too, because you’re so damn obvious.”
“Won’t it be obvious if I wear a mask?”
“Not in the Brasspool District. Plenty of people who go there don’t want to be recognized. Do you have any coins or notes on you?”
Vawn shakes his head. “I don’t carry money.
The places I visit—bars, clubs, brothels, fine dining establishments, circuses, what have you—they bill the palace for my drinks, food, and entertainment.
My father doesn’t enjoy getting the bills, but at least I can always count on him speaking to me once a month when they come in.
Well… speaking might not be the right word.
He yells. Gets red in the face. It’s adorable. ”
He’s grinning again, but it’s a fragile smile, bright and hard, one that might crack any minute.
So… we have no money. We could try to pawn one of his rings, I suppose, but they’re of exquisite quality, engraved with personalized symbols to slightly elongate the effect of his glyphs.
Any pawn shop owner would be immediately suspicious, and it wouldn’t take them long to figure out Vawn’s identity.
Same thing for the fine necklaces and bracelets he’s wearing.
They scream royalty. Considering the speed at which news travels in Kyr, the capital city of Belavrin, that jewelry will already be too hot for any broker to touch.
The prince is an artificient, which means he possesses the rare and lucrative ability to paint effective glyphs on his own nails or those of other people.
When I witnessed him painting the enhancements on the hooves of the carriage horses, he appeared to be quite skilled.
But in order to practice artifiency in Belavrin, one must have an active license and seals of reference from previous clients, and he has neither.
The documents can be faked, of course, but we have no time to procure false seals and find prospective clients.
Besides, he would have to reveal his face.
No one in their right mind would allow a masked person to paint a glyph set on their fingertips.
“Do you have money?” the prince asks. “Whatever you spend to secure my protection, I’ll see that you’re reimbursed.”
“I don’t have money. I was counting on getting paid tonight so I could make rent.”
He frowns. “You must have some resources. Your boots are custom-made, are they not? And your glyph set is a little worn, but it’s a pricey one. How did you get the money for it?”
“I earned it.”
“I thought you just graduated from the Academy. That program is rigorous. You couldn’t possibly have paid your tuition, earned top marks in your classes, and simultaneously held a job that would pay for a nail set like that.”
My pride wants to conceal the truth, but if his life is in danger, we’re going to need to get away from Kyr as soon as possible, which means making fast money, discreetly, the only way I know how. At the Pink Lycan Peep Show.