ready.
“I have a room,” Josef said, scowling up from where he sat on the floor with the Heart of War propped on his shoulder. “What do you think you just walked into?”
The servant flinched, and Eli gave him a sympathetic look from his spot on the bed, but he didn’t do anything to save the poor boy. In the five years he’d known Josef, he’d never seen him in such a foul mood. He was happy to let someone else take the heat for a bit.
“Forgive me, my lord,” the servant said at last, eying Josef’s knives, all of which had found their way back to their places on Josef’s body. “This secure chamber is for noble guests. I’ve been ordered to escort you to the rooms you will be sharing with your wife.”
Josef set his glass on the floor with a bitter sigh and stood up. The servant stepped aside as Josef walked out the door, but when Eli tried to follow, the man cut him off.
“I am sorry, sir,” he said. “The queen’s orders were that the prince was to go alone. Respect for his wedding night, you must understand.”
“Well, I would never disrespect a wedding night,” Eli said, glancing over the man’s shoulder. He caught Josef’s eyes and gave him the look they’d shared a thousand times: Do you want to get out? Josef shook his head, and Eli stayed put, watching from the doorway as the servant escorted Josef down the hall. When they disappeared around the corner, Eli stepped back into the room.
He picked up Josef’s half-empty glass from the floor and finished it in one long drink. He set the empty glass on the table and grabbed the bottle of spirits instead. He corked it tight and slid the bottle into his belt. When it was secure, he walked over to the window and hoisted himself up, sliding between the bars with practiced ease into the city night.
CHAPTER
9
Did you see his face?” Henry was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out. “You’d think he was standing for execution, not affirming his marriage.”
Adela smiled and refilled Henry’s cup from the fat bottle of dark wine. They were sitting in the officer’s lounge of the castle guard, a little hallway of a room at the very top of the palace just below the tower where the Council wizards kept the queen’s Relay point. There were three of them seated around the polished table: Adela; old Beechum, her sergeant; and Henry Finley, Duke Finley’s eldest son and Adela’s vice captain.
Henry took the refilled glass and downed its contents in one swallow. Adela leaned on the table, watching him with a wary eye. “Maybe you should stop, Henry,” she said. “You’re on duty tonight.”
“Why?” he said, tossing his empty cup on the table. “If the prince of Osera is a murderer, why can’t I be a drunk?” He lurched forward, bumping the table so hard he set the other glasses rocking. “It’s a tragedy, that’s what it is, you having to go to bed with that bloodthirsty—”
“Finley.” Sergeant Beechum’s voice was heavy with warning. “Like him or not, Thereson is our prince. You will be civil.”
“Civil.” Henry snorted. “There’s a word that has no place in the same breath with Thereson. When my father’s king, he’ll turn that failure prince out on his glowering face. Just see if he doesn’t. Then you’ll be free, Dela.”
“I’m sure your father will toss Josef into the sea the moment the crown’s on his head,” Adela said with a smile. “Just as I’m equally sure my mother and I will be tossed right behind him. The dear Duke Finley doesn’t care much for us.”
“My father doesn’t like competition,” Henry said bitterly, and then his face broke into a smile. “He doesn’t know you like I do, princess. He’s angry that the Queen’s Guard loves and follows you with a devotion not seen since Theresa was young, or that the people cheer you louder than they cheer him. He doesn’t understand that those things don’t have to stand in his way. I keep trying to tell him that an alliance—”
“Is impossible now,” Adela finished. “My husband’s come home, Henry. I’m no longer a wife in name only. I’m afraid I now truly am the competition your father always accused me of being.”
“More’s the bad luck,” Beechum said blackly. “Thereson is the shame of the Eisenlowe name. It’s a disgrace for a prince of the Iron Lions to be a murderer and a thief and who knows what else. We’d have all been better off if he’d never come home.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Adela said. “But he’s here now, and we must make the best of it.”
Henry sat back in his chair with a huff. “I still can’t believe you let him beat you in the Proving. It would have done the country well to see that traitor get the beating he deserved.”
“Who says I let him win?” Adela said, reaching for her own cup. “He is a renowned swordsman.”
“Come off it, Dela,” Henry said with a sly smile. “We all know you’re the best fighter in the guard. There’s no way that wastrel prince could beat you. What I want to know is how much the old battle-ax leaned on you to take the fall and make her brat of a son look good.”
“Henry!” Beechum cried, eyes wide. “Mind your tongue!”
Henry shrugged and poured himself another drink. Adela sat back, swirling her own half-full cup thoughtfully. She was about to take a sip when a soft knock sounded at the door. A servant in royal livery poked his head in when she called, looking sheepishly at the princess. Adela took the hint with a sigh, setting her cup on the table.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, standing. “It seems it’s time for me to do my wifely duty.”
“Good luck, Captain,” Sergeant Beechum said, saluting her as she followed the servant out into the hall. Henry said nothing, just stared into his wine as Adela closed the door behind her.
She was scarcely down the stairs when she heard it open again. Adela stopped with a deep breath, catching the servant’s sleeve.
“I know the way,” she said. “Go on.”
The servant looked at her, and she could see the conflicting orders warring in his mind, the queen’s command that the royal couple be escorted to the chamber versus the princess’s trusted word. But the princess was here and the queen was not, so the man excused himself, hurrying down the hall as Henry caught up with Adela.
“Don’t go,” he whispered, catching her hand.
“I don’t have much choice, Henry,” she said, deftly dodging as his face closed in for a wine-soaked kiss. “I’m married, remember?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Henry whispered. “The only reason anyone still cares about that runaway is because Theresa’s still alive. When she’s dead and my father’s king, I’ll be the prince, not him. But that doesn’t mean you have to stop being a princess.” His hands circled her waist, emphasizing his point. “Or don’t you love me anymore, Dela?”
“Henry,” Adela whispered, stopping him with a finger pressed against his lips. “Josef coming home changes nothing. You know that. But so long as he’s here, we can’t be seen like this. If the queen finds out, things could get very sticky.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” Henry whispered, kissing her fingertip. “Theresa could never be mad at her perfect princess. Even if she was, your mother would smooth things over. Everyone knows the queen would never do anything to hurt her beloved Lenette.”
“I’m glad you’re so confident,” Adela said, gently extricating herself from his arms. “But for the moment there are appearances to keep up.”
Henry’s face screwed into a pout, and Adela leaned in, lowering her voice to a purr. “Don’t worry, love,” she whispered. “This will all be over soon.”
“I hope so,” Henry said, crossing his arms with a scowl. “The thought of you with that highwayman they have the nerve to call a prince makes me ill. If I could, I’d call him out tonight and finish him. Then you’d be mine for good.”
“That’s sweet, Henry,” Adela said, smiling. “But don’t go challenging Josef. You’re a decent swordsman, but I wasn’t entirely faking today, and I prefer you whole.”
