5 #2
“I’ll stay with you,” I concede. “But do me a favor—walk in the roadside grass, not on the road itself. Remember how a certain carriage full of rich nobles ran down that unicorn? We could be next.”
“I doubt anyone will be careening along this country lane at magically enhanced speeds,” Vawn retorts. But he steps to the side, following me through the swishing grass instead.
The dew beads on the surface of my thigh-high boots, and the ground squishes muddily with each step I take.
The air is more richly scented now that we’re closer to the earth.
Winter’s lingering breath still chills the night, but spring has turned the head of every tree, decking them out in bright yellow-green leaves or pale, delicate petals.
Spring is a clever time for a coup. It comes after the deprivation of winter, when people are just waking up again, thirsty for change, for something new. The plans for the takeover were laid in the darkness and cold of winter, in smoky, firelit rooms behind closed doors.
What I don’t understand is why. And as we walk, I decide to voice the question. “Why would someone want to oust your family and take over?”
“You have thoughts on everything else,” Vawn mutters, picking up his pace until he’s walking beside me. “Surely you can guess.”
“I’ve tried to stay abreast of the goings-on in Belavrin and the neighboring countries, but sometimes it’s hard to discern political posturing from actual events.
At the Academy, we were actually discouraged from becoming too politically aligned one way or another.
As a guard or a soldier, one’s job is to carry out orders, to serve without question. ”
“And you thought you would excel at unquestioning service?” He throws me a disbelieving smirk.
“In retrospect, I might have mistaken my calling. Or maybe I just need to find someone I can believe in, someone I can serve who shares my code of ethics.”
“That’s quite the ask. No two people will ever agree perfectly on everything. You’d be hard-pressed to find any royal, noble, magnate, or general who is consistently an upstanding pillar of moral fortitude.”
“You’re probably right,” I admit. “But back to my question—I would think that you, as a prince in line for the throne, would have some idea about who might have done this, and why.”
“Power, money, control,” he says. “The usual motives. As for who—I have no idea. It may surprise you, but as fifth in line for the throne, I never thought I’d have to deal with the political intricacies of the kingdom.”
“What did you expect to do?” I wave away a cloud of gnats hovering in my path.
“Enjoy myself until I was married off in some bargain with one of our allies.” He smiles ruefully at my expression.
“Yes, it happens to princes too. Especially the pretty ones. My father had offers for me before anyone offered for my sisters. The first one came eight years ago, when I was fourteen. Some pirate captain who promised to turn King’s man if I was gifted to him on my sixteenth birthday. ”
“Holy shit,” I exclaim.
“He was batshit insane, of course. But still, the offer was real. Lucky for me, my father always drove a hard bargain. No marriage contract ever made it off the bargaining table.” He pats his pockets. “Ah, fuck, I forgot that you gave away all my cigarettes.”
“They were useful. They bought you those fine clothes.”
He looks down at his threadbare outfit and grimaces. “We need better clothes for traveling if we’re headed north.”
“I know.” I sigh. “We’ll see how long the money lasts.
We may need to stop off in Zeletas on the way.
It’s a large city, a good place to disappear, and it has a pleasure house called the Blue Feline, a sister establishment to the Pink Lycan.
I could do a few shows for them, earn a little extra money. ”
“You must really enjoy that type of work. Titillating for you, is it?”
“It’s quick, easy money, and the people in that realm of life don’t mind if you prefer to stay anonymous, so it’s perfect for two fugitives.”
“We could rob someone instead.”
“And risk being caught or wounded and bringing even more attention to ourselves? Absolutely not.” I pause beside a patch of mud. “Speaking of attention—you lost your mask, so we need to disguise you somehow.”
Vawn lifts an eyebrow. “Why do I hate your idea before I’ve even heard it?”
I cover both hands liberally with the black mud and reach toward his face.
“No you don’t!” He darts back, holding the carpet in front of himself like a shield. “I’m already wearing the shitty outfit. You’re not coming anywhere near my hair with that.”
“If you weren’t so determined to stand out with those pink locks of yours, I wouldn’t have to.” I dart toward him, but he tosses the carpet aside onto a thick patch of grass and takes off running.
“Idiot.” I sprint after him, muddy hands extended, fully aware of how ridiculous I must look. Thankfully there’s no one on the road to see us making fools of ourselves.
I chase him all the way to a windbreak of linden trees, where he pauses, panting, and braces his hand against one of the trunks.
Cautiously I prowl toward him, ready in case he runs again. My heart is pounding and my lungs feel freshly clean from inhaling the morning air. I needed that run after hours of sitting on the carpet.
“Easy, Princeling,” I croon as I approach him. “Just a little mud. Nothing that won’t wash off.”
“It’s oily mud,” he protests.
“Which means it will stick better and cover the color more. Come here.”
“No.”
“You’re acting childish, fleeing like that.”
He waggles a finger. “Ah, but you didn’t have to chase me.”
“As you reminded me earlier, I’m supposed to protect you. I have to stay as close to you as possible.” I stalk nearer. “Enough of this foolishness. You’re twenty-two fucking years old. Come to me.”
“Twenty-three two days ago.”
I hesitate, my mud-slicked palms cupped in front of me. “That outing with your friends—was that a birthday celebration?”
He nods, smiling even though his eyes are hollow.
“My family let the day pass with very little fanfare. I received gifts from my sisters, but my parents and my brothers were distracted with more important things. Maybe they’d heard whispers of unrest—I don’t know.
In any case, I decided to celebrate myself. Which is what I usually do, anyway.”
I pace closer, and he allows it, until finally I’m right in front of him. “Happy birthday,” I say quietly. My fingers trace the pink strands of his hair, coating them with the oily black mud.
Vawn releases a resigned sigh and lets me finish my work. He doesn’t protest when I use the remaining mud like cosmetics, changing the contours of his face slightly. When I’m done, his jawline is less sharp, his cheeks look a bit fuller, and his brow line appears more pronounced.
“That will have to do.” I wipe my hands on my pants and continue toward our destination.
He catches up to me with a few bounds. “Admit it—running was fun.”
I pinch my lips together to keep from smiling. “It did release some tension.”
“I excel at helping other people release tension.”
A snorting laugh bursts from me. “The whole kingdom knows that.”
“Forsythia Lecari.” His voice dips low, criminally soft and seductive. “Are you calling me a whore?”
“It takes one to know one. So… maybe.”
“I do believe you were trying to make a joke. Well done.”
“Don’t get used to it. And don’t forget the carpet.”
He dodges aside to collect it, then follows me as I cut left across the grass, climb over a stile, and angle toward the outbuildings of the roadside pub. We approach the stable from the back, and as I hoped, the rear door is open.
At this hour, the stable hand would have completed the early chores already, so he’s probably out front helping any departing guests with their horses.