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“You should go,” he said. “I’m not interested in conversation.”
The courtesan straightened from where she’d been kissing his throat, her eyes narrowing. “Why? You think because I’m paid company that I’m not clever enough to do more than lie on my back?”
“On the contrary. From what I’ve ascertained from our few hours together, you’re clearly clever enough to know that saying anything interesting around me is dangerous. Your mistress caters to patrons on both sides of Nerastis, and girls who get caught talking too much tend to find themselves floating facedown in the Anriot.”
“As if I’d take the coin of Valcottan scum.”
He smirked, amused by what was likely false patriotism. “Just the coin of Maridrinian scum.”
She was quiet, seeming to contemplate his words, green eyes regarding him thoughtfully. “Why do you take up with paid girls at all, Your Highness? You could have an entire harem of beautiful young wives whose loyalty was ensured. You’re going to be King of Maridrina one day.”
Catching a lock of her hair, Keris twisted it around his finger. “Did you know, lovely, that I had eight older brothers? And that for a moment in time, each of themwas going to be the King of Maridrina one day. Tell me, do you know what happened to my brothers?”
Her jaw tightened. “They died, Your Highness.”
“Precisely. So what do you think the odds are that, of all of Silas Veliant’s sons, I’ll be the one to survive long enough to take the crown? What dotheysay about that?”
Silence. Then, “They say that you’ll be in a grave before the year is out.”
“And they are very likely correct.”
The courtesan smiled, revealing straight white teeth and a spark of bravery that he found distinctly appealing. “You didn’t answer my question, Your Highness.”
Lifting her up by the waist, Keris rolled, setting her gently on her feet next to the bed. Handing her the gown that she’d discarded on the floor earlier, he then located his trousers, the garment clinking as he lifted it. Keris pulled a handful of coins out of his pocket and gave them to her. “Given the odds of me surviving are low, it seems unkind to take a wife, never mind a whole harem of them. Paid girls don’t weep when their customers meet untimely ends.”
Her head cocked. “How interesting that you believe your wives would.”
Despite himself, Keris laughed. “Careful, girl. I might decide to keep you for another few hours if you’re not more sparing with your wit.”
She walked toward the door, retrieving one silk slipper and then another. Fingers resting on the handle, she turned to him, offering a slow smile full of promises. “My name’s Aileena, if you liked me enough to see me again, Your Highness.”
He did like her. But the second the thought crossed his mind, the room seemed to shadow and Raina’s dead eyes filled his vision, reminding him that the things he liked got broken. The people he liked got killed.
Never again.
“If I cared what your name was,” he said, “I would’ve asked.”
Aileena stared at him for a heartbeat, her eyes wide with hurt; then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.
Lying on his back, Keris pressed his forearm against his eyes, taking deep, measured breaths, trying to gain control of the miserable twisting guilt that filled his core. Guilt that had haunted him ever since that cursed night in Ithicana’s bridge.
Why hadn’t he seen it coming?
The door opened and shut, and a familiar voice said, “Well, Keris, just when I think you can’t stoop any lower, you prove me wrong. Just what did you say that was bad enough to make a whore cry?”
Not lifting his arm from his face, Keris said, “I told her I wasn’t interested in knowing her name.”
“You’re a prick, you know that? Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because I liked her.”
Keris could all but feel his younger brother roll his eyes, then Otis said, “This is why no one likes you, Keris. You’re an awful person.”
“Youlike me.”
“No, I do not. I am merely inured to your acid tongue. Now for the love of God, put some clothes on. I don’t need to see so much of you so soon after eating dinner.”
Groaning, Keris pulled on his trousers and then walked barefoot across the room to where Otis stood surveying the shithole that was Nerastis, the city clearly visible through the gaping hole in the tower’s domed upper floor. Younger than Keris by a matter of months, Otis was tall and broad, his brown hair slicked back in the current style, his beard trim and neat. Rubbing his own clean-shaven chin, Keris asked, “Father send you?”
