Daromir doesn’t know where he’s going. His plan ended with escaping the man he loves more than life itself. Out of the palace—that’s probably best. Maybe Daromir will ride into the mountains and scream into a canyon. Maybe he’ll find the nearest tavern and get recklessly shit-faced. Or challenge half Vana’s drasgard to a duel.
But Daromir’s self-destructive impulses break against his protective instincts when he reaches the courtyard gates. Three of Vana’s drasgard are talking to a herald in lavender and white, and Daromir recognizes the livery. The herald belongs to Prince Kazia’s household.
“Excuse me,” Daromir says, approaching the group. “What’s going on?”
“She’s delivering a letter,” one of the drasgard says. “She refuses to hand it to us.”
“Is it for Prince Vana?” Daromir asks.
The herald bows. “Yes, sir. I’ve been ordered to hand-deliver it.”
Daromir holds out his hand. “You can give it to me. Will your prince object to that?”
“No, His Highness said you would do in Prince Vana’s place.” She bows again and relinquishes the letter.
No dangerous leather case this time. Just a simple ribbon-tied scroll. Daromir flashes a grin. “Great. I’ll read it as we return to Prince Kazia.”
The herald stares. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Escort me to Prince Kazia’s quarters,” Daromir says. “His Highness and I have something to discuss.”
***
Silent eyes follow Daromir to Kazia’s chambers, every passing servant and courtier noting his company with Kazia’s herald. Any other day, Daromir would regret causing such a stir. It could make matters more complicated for Vana. Today, Daromir doesn’t give a fuck.
The herald makes Daromir wait outside Kazia’s chambers for nearly ten minutes. Daromir assumes one minute is for Kazia to decide whether to meet with him, and the other nine are just to make him wait. Daromir doesn’t give a fuck about that either. He just waits patiently with the unwrapped scroll in hand.
Then the herald allows him inside.
Kazia’s parlor is neater than Daromir expected. The furnishings must have been arranged by Queen Aliza—except for the hideous dragon statues flanking the hearth. A fire roars in the hearth, warming the room. Ostomar’s halls run cold even in summer. The flames reflect ominously along the jagged carved lines of the dragons.
Two of Kazia’s drasgard stand watch at one end of the room. The brat prince himself lounges on a sofa, fiddling with a small copper and glass device. He looks like he’s been settled there for hours, but Daromir would bet five gold Kazia posed there, deliberately nonchalant, just before letting Daromir in.
“Wandering off leash again?” Kazia asks, setting down the device. He swings his boots to the floor and looks Daromir up and down. “Try a sordid tavern like last time. I’m not interested in my brother’s leftovers.”
The bait isn’t subtle. Daromir would be amused any other day. Today, he just ignores the attempted aggravation. “Why did you send a blank scroll to Prince Vana?”
“It was blank in case any nosy servants tried to read it,” Kazia says, deadpan.
Daromir grins, unabashed. “Very funny.” He motions to the guards at the edge of the room. “We have something to talk about.”
He expects a fight about dismissing the guards, but Kazia just gestures imperiously. “You two, out.”
The two drasgard salute half-heartedly and leave, just like that.
Daromir frowns after them. Guards are supposed to protect their charges, not simply obey every stupid command. Kazia may be a prince of Draskora, but he doesn’t have magic. As for physical combat, Daromir would wager Kazia is no match for any random farmhand with a hoe. Leaving him alone with someone untrustworthy is a severe breach of duty.
“They shouldn’t have left that easily,” Daromir says, still frowning.
Kazia rolls his eyes. “What, like you’re going to hurt me? Condolences, by the way. It must be difficult knowing your master is about to adopt a new pet.”
Daromir’s brief concern for Kazia evaporates. He doesn’t even know where to begin with that statement. Daromir isn’t about to discuss his broken heart with Kazia, and he doesn’t mind the jokes about him being Vana’s dog. But that attitude towards grails is extremely distasteful. Someone needs to teach Kazia a lesson before Imrik gives him any real authority.
But Daromir doesn’t have the time or patience to become Kazia Dire’s ethics teacher. Instead, Daromir just asks what he came here to ask: “Did you send the scorpion moth?”
“Yes,” Kazia answers.
“All right, that was the easiest interrogation ever.Why?”
