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“Rayne!” Eno snapped.
His lover smirked at him. “It’s okay. That’s the spymaster. Davi works for us.”
Eno could only blink at Rayne for a second. They were in Erya hands again. It also meant that they had a shot at getting some real answers.
SIX
Adrian Westergren
Adrian was trying not to hover over the king, but Caelan had fallen asleep on the couch relatively quickly after a meal of steak, potatoes, and beers with Diogo. During all their travels, he’d seen Caelan sleep very little. He’d begun to wonder if the man actually needed sleep, thanks to all the gods constantly keeping him awake.
But after two beers and a thick-cut steak, Caelan had stretched out and drifted off with surprising ease.
Now, Adrian was reluctant to turn away. This was the King of Erya lying vulnerable and helpless in this rundown one-bedroom apartment. He couldn’t just leave him unattended, could he?
“Hey, A! You want another beer?” Diogo called from the kitchen, where he’d gone to clean up the few dishes he’d used for their meal.
“Nah. I’m good. Bottle of water would be best,” Adrian replied. He shoved a hand through his messy hair and forced himself to turn away as Diogo’s footsteps grew louder across the cracked linoleum. “Thanks again for letting us crash here tonight.”
“Not a problem,” his old friend said as he handed over an unopened bottle of water. He motioned toward Cael with his bottle of beer. “He out?”
“Yeah, it was a long journey to get here and—” A thought suddenly stopped Adrian cold and he narrowed his eyes on the big man who was starting to look a touch uncomfortable. “Did you fucking drug him?” Adrian demanded in a harsh whisper. “I swear to the gods if you—”
Diogo held up both hands to fend Adrian off, a couple of fingers wrapped around the bottleneck in his left hand. “Hey, hey! It’s okay. You know me. I’m careful. It was a little sedative. Besides, we both know if there’s anyone who could use forty winks, it’s the freaking King of Erya.”
Adrian’s mouth sort of hung open for a second, his brain locked up against anything he might have said. Diogo knew Caelan was the king. He’d recognized him. Not only that, but he’d freaking drugged him.
Eno was going to fucking kill him. Caelan wasn’t going to get the chance, because the second the bodyguard found out that he took the king to the apartment of a known smuggler and then got him drugged, Eno was going to kill him.
But that was only after Adrian killed his old friend.
“What were you thinking? You knew he was the king, and you still freaking drugged him?” Adrian shouted. He had to be losing his mind. None of this was making sense.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” Diogo hurried to his side and placed an arm on his shoulders. “It was just one pill to help him sleep. That’s all. He’ll be up and making royal decisions in a few hours with no problem. I figured this was the only way I could get you to tell me what the fuck you’re doing with the freaking king. Rumor has it you got scooped up while on a job ten years ago and tossed in prison. No one has heard a single peep from you.” Diogo released him and gave his shoulder a small shove. “Next thing I know, you’re wandering the Shrine District with the King of Erya. Tell me that ain’t fucked up.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Diogo grabbed his shoulder and turned him toward the microscopic balcony where he’d grilled their steaks on the world’s smallest charcoal grill. Somehow Diogo had managed to cram two white plastic chairs out there, though they were practically on top of each other.
“Come on. Outside. We’ll sit, watch the lights of the city, and you can tell me what’s going on.”
Diogo was kind enough to go first through the sliding glass door, allowing Adrian to take the chair closest to the door as well as the closest to the king. “Should I worry about this water being drugged? Or that the apartment is bugged?” Adrian demanded snidely.
“Sit down, ass. Don’t be like that. You know I’ve always got your back.” Diogo patted the empty seat with his massive hand before relaxing in his own.
“As long as there’s an angle in it for you,” Adrian muttered, but he did sit.
His friend rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe about some things in life, but not when it comes to my home.” He paused and pointed his bottle at Adrian. “I have never done anything that wasn’t loyal to Erya, and you know it.”
Okay, so maybe Diogo did have a point there. His friend was loyal—almost to a fault—to Erya. He was a big supporter of the crown, the Godstone, and all Erya stood for. But then, he was also a big supporter of Diogo and making sure Diogo’s pockets were lined. The man just made sure that his loyalty would never be tested when it came to his finances.
Adrian turned his attention out to the street in front of them. He was pretty sure Diogo had pulled them toward the Bazaar District, but his friend had stayed off the main streets and Adrian hadn’t seen enough landmarks on the trip to give him a feel for their exact location. That and it really had been a long time since he’d last visited the city.
The sun had set while they ate and the sky was enveloped in a dark, burnt-orange glow as the lights of the city hit against some heavy clouds that had moved in. Everything was strangely quiet. No cars on the streets. No sounds of people moving around. But the windows in all the various apartment buildings and homes were lit up. The curfew had forced people indoors during the night hours.
“So, what’s up? How did you get to running with royalty?” Diogo asked in a low voice.
Adrian twisted the cap on his water, cracking open the seal. “Pretty much what you said. I got caught one day. They threatened me with jail or the Royal Guard. I figured what I was doing wasn’t exactly getting me anywhere in life, so I thought I’d try to be a guard.”
