Page 101 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

Technically a lie.

The guard raised his flax-colored brows as if he guessed as much. “Have you tried knocking?”

“I’d prefer to not disturb him if he’s asleep.” Not a lie.

The man snickered. “Why did he ask you to meet him, then?”

“I’m later than I expected,” I returned, waiting for the man to do something other than twiddle his thumbs and stare at me.

The guard shrugged, haughty as he cast his gaze elsewhere. “I don’t have a key.”

Being the second-born prince comes with its share of advantages—a longer leash, lighter supervision, more influence over my own interests and hobbies—but every so often it introduced some short-dicked flea who pretended not to recognize me just to get his jollies at exercising some level of power over a prince of Calder.

My tongue roamed the corner of my mouth, probing for patience. “What the fuck is the point stationing you here, then? What if he was attacked from inside?”

The man’s eyes dropped to my belt, taking his time sizing up my knife. “Unwanted guests, I suppose.”

My eyelids closed and reopened. With reluctance, I leaned into the door, raising my voice. “Hade. You awake?”

A beat of silence.

“Yes.” Floor creaked, muffled footsteps padding from the other side of the wall.

“Mmmm,” I answered through the door, my tone bright. “Your guard offered me your key in return for a complicated series of favors, most of them sexual.”

From the corner of my eye, the man’s mouth parted. The door opened, Hadrian’s face peering through the yolky sconce light. He glanced over the both of us with the stern scrub of a general assessing new recruits. “Dursand,” he scolded softly, “he’s married.”

“I did not—”

Hadrian widened the door, waving me lazily inside. I waited until I was completely through before looking back at the guard. “I’m flattered, Dursand, but next time remember—my eyes are up here.”

Dursand cleared his throat. “Your Highness—"

Heavy wood swung closed. The latch clicked, and a muttered curse followed from the hallway outside. Hadrian sucked a smile into his mouth, meeting my eyes. I snorted.

“You’re an asshole,” Hadrian muttered under his breath, amused as he turned to wander through his sitting room. Unlike my quarters, furnished with pointy blades and spiked clubs and other hazardous toys that probably drove Maren mad, Hadrian’s rooms were a neat arrangement of firm-cushioned armchairs and books on every subject Aalto had ever shed light over. Just stepping inside, the scent of dusty bound paper and leather covers overpowered everything else. It was no wonder my brother was always coughing; he probably shared his apartment with half the fucking book lice in Calder.

I dropped into my favorite armchair, the coziest one, even though three legs were shorter than the fourth and it wobbled when I moved. I wound myself sideways enough to sling a leg over the armrest. “You’re up late.”

“So are you.” He lowered himself into the nearest seat with the stately elegance of a future king. “What do you want?”

“Distraction. Maren left for Leihani a few hours ago.” I’d tried reading the book Selena had given me at first, which had almost worked, until the wind ran over the shingles somewhere overhead, making the rafters croak and groan so loudly I kept glancing up, prepared to find an assassin sent by my father crouched under my table or pressed into my wall. So, like a scared little boy, I’d found myself crossing the sky bridge, my feet aimed at my older brother’s tower.

Hadrian roosted his chin amongst his knuckles. “I didn’t know she planned to return there.”

“It wasn’t planned. Emilius threatened her father over their dinner.”

“Ah,” he said, in a tone of unsurprise.

I massaged a circle into my temple with my thumb. “She cut off his hand.”

My brother blinked. His mouth opened. Then closed.

“His ring hand.”

“Tonight?” he stammered. “Just now?”

“A few hours ago.”