10. Ten
ten
Two days. Two entire days they had been here already, in this empty tomb of a castle with only a scant handful of servants scurrying around, and he was nowhere closer to his goal than he had been when he'd set out from Duskport – where the sun had been bright and warm, by the way, not this weak, milky excuse for daylight.
Two days since he had seen the princess last, not that she had been asking for him.
Despite the early hour, Neira was awake and dressed when he barged into her room without knocking.
“Princess! Good morning.”
She sat at a small table, a silver tray stacked with breakfast in front of her. Neira merely inclined her head to him, the barest of glances at him over the rim of her bone-white cup, then went back to staring out of the narrow window beside her.
"What, no words for me? Did you lose that sharp tongue of yours?" Erqis grinned and stole a cluster of berries from her plate.
The berries were fresh and tasted like the sun. Anywhere else, it wouldn’t have been remarkable. But here? In this cursed place? His soldiers had begun murmuring about it, some already returning to their tasteless rations.
No one, not even him, had the faintest idea where the food came from. The soil here absolutely wasn’t suited for growing anything other than weeds, moss and fungi, and there was no active trade with Brightmere anywhere within the realms of Malvea.
And yet the larders were well-stocked, and two days of an entire army eating their fill three times a day or more hadn’t depleted them.
It made no sense.
Then again, not much around here did.
"You're not allowed to ignore me, you know. I am a king. If I command you to converse with me, you have to do it."
Neira didn’t turn to him, but he saw her rolling her eyes. Victory . If the path to her was paved by annoying her – well, he was very good at that.
"You know," he continued, biting another of the berries, the juice tart on his tongue. "This is a fine castle, considering, although a bit bland on the decoration side if you ask me. What are your plans with it?"
More silence, although she took a deeper breath, as if to keep herself from drenching him in hot tea.
"I think you'd be stunning in sky blue. A true sky, not whatever miserable thing you have here. And gold. That would have been a great first impression, don't you think? Welcoming me in a pretty dress like that?"
A flush was creeping up her neck, though he couldn't determine whether it was bashful or angry; but knowing what little he did of her, he probably was very close to being clobbered with the saucer.
"Not to say that I didn't thoroughly enjoy the welcome you did give-"
"Is there any reason in particular you are bothering me this early in the morning?" Neira finally snapped.
"Indeed there is," he told her brightly around a mouthful of berries. "But you aren't dressed for the occasion."
Neira frowned down at the dust grey frock she wore. Perfectly respectable, Erqis had to admit that, with a wide neckline that bared her shoulders, narrow sleeves, and a sash of copper silk wound around her hips to fall down her front. Understated, elegant.
Too light a colour for what he had planned, too fine a fabric.
"Let us make a deal, Majesty," she bit back at him. "You never comment on my wardrobe again and I will allow you to keep your tongue."
"See, I knew there was a reason I liked you. You almost got it."
"What?"
"Our activity for the day." The look on her face was delicious. Half puzzled, half annoyed. If he ever had a portrait of her commissioned, this was the expression he'd want to depict on it.
"I'm not doing an activity with you."
"I haven't told you what it is yet."
"If it involves your tongue, I'm not interested."
A challenge. Erqis leaned over her, his thumb running along her jaw, feather-light. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss what my tongue can do for you, Highness," he purred, his voice pitched low. "You might enjoy it a great deal."
Neira jerked her head back, but the flush had reached her face. Even her ears were glowing. "You insolent-"
"How would you like to accompany me to the dungeons?" He cut her off, hand still extended to her. "I made you a promise that I haven't kept yet. And you seem in the perfect mood today for exacting revenge on a few selected individuals."
He had caught her off-guard. Again. She blinked at him, her face losing that severe edge. It made her look softer, younger. When her lips parted, his gaze was immediately drawn to the plush curve of her mouth.
"Come on. It can't be fun sitting in here all day."
The regiars had told him nothing, answered none of his questions to satisfaction. Either they didn't know where the Dread King's study was, or they were keeping their mouths shut out of loyalty to the old cadaver. Either way, he didn't need them anymore, and he thought Neira would look positively breathtaking covered in blood.
"What does any of this have to do with my dress?"
Erqis held up his hands in mock surrender. "You can wear whatever you want, darling, but you'll never get the blood stains out of it. Your choice."
Neira walked by his side down tomb-like corridors as if she had never worn trousers before. She had found a pair of riding leggings hidden deep at the back of her sprawling wardrobe, a pair of thick, winter boots to tuck them into, but the black shirt she wore was his.
It was such an appealing sight. Her dresses were all tailored to her tall, slim stature, accentuating what curves she had in a flattering way, and he had quite literally seen her completely nude before – but this . The shirt was too big on her. It kept slipping off one shoulder even though the laces in the front of the collar had been tightly tied all the way up, exposing the curve of her neck with her dark hair braided around her head to keep it out of the way. Around her waist, he had fastened a leather belt himself so the shirt wouldn't hang on her like a nightgown. The lower half of the shirt hung in draped ruffles to the top of her thighs.
He only mourned that the lovely curve of her ass was hidden from view like this.
She caught him looking and glared. "What?"
"You look like a pirate." Erqis grinned at her little huff, at the way she shoved up her sleeves. They, too, were too long.
"I look ridiculous."
"A little." He shrugged, halting her with a hand on her wrist. "Here, allow me."
Her skin was pale as moonlight, close to translucent along the tender underside of her forearm as he rolled up the sleeve to sit more securely past her elbow. She was silent, but she didn't shove him away, and when the princess offered her other arm for the same treatment, he brushed his thumb along the inside of her arm.
Her little shudder didn't go unnoticed.
When he was done, Erqis held both of her bare forearms in his hands, allowing a moment of almost comfortable silence to pass between them. He could hear her breath hitch every time the sword callouses on his fingers rasped over her skin.
Gods, how badly he wanted to stroke them over her nipples until she begged him for his tongue.
As if reading his mind, and firmly disagreeing, Neira cleared her throat and pulled her arms free, looking anywhere but at his face.
"So," Erqis drew out as they fell into step with each other again, letting her take the lead. This fucking place was a maze. "What did you do to make them do this to you?"
"What do you mean?"
He snorted. "You weren't exactly granted a dignified first meeting, pet. I want to know why."
"The Lord Regiars didn't enjoy having to obey a woman. Do they need another reason?"
"Regiars. Advisers, yes?"
"And what great advising they do." Her voice dripped with disdain. "Oh so very wise, the lot of them. My father allowed them to run the general organisation of the realm, the day-to-day. They would bring only the most pressing issues to him so he could make a decision, and the rest… well. They became accustomed to the amount of power it granted them, and wanted more."
What matters of organisation these men could rule over, considering the entire kingdom was a graveyard, Erqis didn't know.
"You don't strike me as the type of woman willing to hand off too much power to other people."
"They wanted my brother on the throne. Can you imagine?"
"The three-year-old?" His captives had complained at length just the day before that had the prince been allowed to sit the throne, none of this would have happened. A whole lot of wishful thinking as far as Erqis was concerned.
"Ramin is six."
Erqis shrugged. "Same difference. Blatant grab for power. You did well to deny them."
"Fat lot of good it did me."
A delicate subject, but he had her talking freely for once. It was the most words he had been able to get out of her this whole time. "So where is your brother now?"
The question had been meant to come across casual, but Neira’s reaction was instantaneous. She drew within herself again, slamming up those icy walls of hers.
"You'll never find him,” she hissed. “Perhaps I made sure he'll never return. Perhaps I murdered him in his sleep, the first chance I had."
She hadn't. Neira didn't know it, Erqis was pretty sure, but he could read her like a book. The sheer pain and worry tingeing her expression when she spoke of the boy – no, Prince Ramin wasn't dead, nor had Neira removed him for her own gain, even if she felt the throne should have been hers.
"Fine by me." When she snapped her head around to stare at him, he shrugged. "I am not in the habit of minding children. I'd rather deal with you, regarding this realm."
" Deal with me?"
"Someone has to rule this place when I return to Duskport. I offered the same to the queens of Sersina and Helorn, and their realms are thriving. I feel that you and I could build a strong relationship built on mutual trust, and…" He reached past her to haul open the heavy door that would lead them at last into the dungeons when Neira stopped in front of it, grinning at her. "Cold-blooded, murderous revenge. After you, your Highness."