Page 136 of Heartbreak Prince

“So I could keep him in a cell and force him to paint glyphs for me. Why else?” Renfrow gives a raw laugh. “The boy is talented. And maybe I wanted to pay back some of the discomfort and humiliation I endured as his bodyguard. ‘Hold this, Renfrow. We’re going to another club, Renfrow. Where are my pants, Renfrow? Did my legs really turn into tentacles, Renfrow, or am I just wasted?’ His father demoted me to that position, you know. I used to be one of the King’s own bodyguards, and then I had the audacity to yield to a princess when she wanted a night with her father’s guard. It didn’t matter to the King that the sex was her idea. He wanted me out of his sight, and the bitch never defended me.”

“By bitch, you mean—”

“Princess Athalia. After that, she and her cunt of a sister tittered at me whenever I passed.”

“But you still had a good place, as the bodyguard to a prince.”

“Traipsing around after the lecherous layabout?” he says dryly. “Oh yes, an excellent place. Just the two of us, me and Kresser, having to pull His Cocky Highness out of all the messes he got himself into. Kresser seemed to be fond of him, if you can believe that.”

“I can.”

At my response, Renfrow’s eyes narrow. “Don’t tell me you let the boy into your pants.”

I’m about to respond, but movement from behind Renfrow catches my eye. Smiling, I let my remaining knife fall, and I support my injured arm with my left hand.

“Look at that sickening smile on your face,” Renfrow groans. “By the fates, have some self-respect. I suppose you think you love him?”

“Better. I know he loves me.”

Renfrow hears the soft sweep of the magic carpet a second too late. As Severin rushes by, Vawn roars with all the grief in his soul, leaning over the carpet’s edge. The sword in Vawn’s hand goes into Renfrow’s back so hard and so deep that the bloody point bursts out of his chest. I dart aside, out of the way, but I’m still spattered with flecks of his blood.

Severin pulls up short, and Vawn leaps off. He released the sword right after stabbing Renfrow, and he’s massaging his shoulder like the force of the blow hurt him.

I move toward the carpet. “I called for you three times.”

“Apologies,” says Severin. “It took us a bit longer than expected to overcome the guards at the palace gates. The rest of the Tularesk army and quite a few Belavrin loyalists are still in the courtyard and the great hall, finishing off the Redeemers.”

“Thank the fates,” I breathe. “We’ve won.”

“It’s not over yet.” Severin points a tassel toward the prince, who has knelt beside his former bodyguard.

Vawn draws the sword out of Renfrow and pushes the big man onto his back. Renfrow is dying, blood bubbling from his lips. He chokes on it as he stares up at Vawn.

The devastation in Vawn’s eyes guts me. I wish he didn’t have to endure this moment, but he needs the finality, the understanding.

“Why?” Vawn whispers, but Renfrow can’t answer.

“He told me why,” I say quietly, coming to stand beside Vawn. “I’ll explain later, but Vawn, the Exemplar is starting to move. I think he was only Renfrow’s puppet, but he could still be a threat, and he was complicit in the death of your family. We should restrain him.”

Vawn nods vaguely, still staring at Renfrow, so I gesture to a couple of the Tularesk soldiers who have entered the room. None of them are dressed in uniforms, but they all wear a leaf of blood ivy pinned to their chest—Vawn’s idea, so we would know whom to trust.

“Restrain the Exemplar,” I tell them. They move in, covering his hands with gloves so he can’t use glyphs and then binding his wrists. He moves feebly in protest, but the paralysis spell hasn’t worn off enough for him to resist.

“Syth.” Cordall touches my back lightly. “Your shoulder—I can fix it. It will be sore, but it won’t hurt as much.”

I submit to his help, crying out when he pops the joint back in. Immediately the pain becomes bearable, with the tissues under less strain. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve never felt pain like that,” the artist says. “And I won’t soon forget it. But I’ll be fine.” He wipes sweat from his forehead. “All in all, the plan went off well, I think.”

“Very well, seeing as we’re not dead.” I collect my claw knives from the floor, holding them ready even though our enemies have been subdued. “And now to unmask the Exemplar, the puppet Renfrow placed on the throne. The impotent figurehead.”

Even as I say it, my gaze drops to the jeweled scepter, which lies on the floor beside the usurper’s feet. My memory clarifies into the image of a dead unicorn, ripped apart, lying by the side of the road. I was commanded to retrieve its horn, which Vawn did for me, so I wouldn’t have to.

And he gave the horn to Loxley.

“Vawn.” I dash forward and grab his arm as he approaches the Exemplar and reaches for the mask. “This is going to hurt.”

He gives me a sorrowful smile. “I already know who it is, sweetheart. I’ve known since we first heard the description of the Exemplar’s mask. I’d seen it before, in Loxley’s room, about two weeks before our night at the Lyre & Vice.”