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With that, he left, closing the door behind him.
Auberon whirled on the polished metal mirror in the corner of his room and pulled his tunic over his head. There was no mark on his right shoulder where Valerian had touched him, his hand burning like a hot iron. If not for the heat pulsing just below his flesh, Auberon would have thought he reallyhadlost his wits. But it was there—relentless, foreign, maddening. He hadn’t spoken of it to the healers. How could one explain a wound that left no mark, from a person no one but he had seen?
One went straight to the source.
* * *
He found Duke Valerian and Prince Domhnall chatting outside the throne room doors.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Your Grace,” he called, not particularly caring that he’d interrupted them mid-conversation. They turned, surprise flashing across their faces when they saw him. Auberon smiled, masking the dark wave of fury that rose within him at the sight of the duke. “It’s been a while.”
“You’re looking well, Prince Auberon,” Domhnall said. “I was under the impression you’d be in the infirmary for at least another week.”
“So was I, but it seems I’m a fast healer.” His gaze slid to Valerian. “Or perhaps I simply met with a miracle.”
The Crown Prince chuckled, oblivious to his anger. “Whatever the reason, we’re all glad that you’ll be able to join the negotiations. Please, allow me to apologize on behalf of my family for the accident that befell you. My father’s men are working around the clock to track down the person responsible for the poisoning. He will be brought to justice, I swear it.”
“Creator willing,” he said dryly. Not one member of the royal family had bothered to speak with him since that first banquet, save for Lady Riona. For all their talk of peace and welcome, it was clear just how far their hospitality extended to those of Erdurian blood. He turned to the duke. “I’d like a word with you in private, Your Grace.”
Valerian hesitated. “I will be meeting with the king and his brother shortly—”
“It’ll take but a moment, I promise,” he said in a voice that made it clear he would brook no argument. “Come.”
When the duke nodded reluctantly, Auberon led him around the corner and into the first empty room he found, closing the door behind them. In a heartbeat, he had Valerian pinned against the wall, one arm braced against his chest, the other leveling the edge of his sword to the duke’s throat. Valerian made a small noise of protest.
“Be quiet, or I’ll slit your throat,” Auberon snarled. “What did you do to me? And why don’t my guards remember you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t deny it. You touched my shoulder before you left, and ever since, the throbbing has been driving me mad. I can feel this—this pounding, thisheat, in my shoulder. And my guards don’t remember you coming into my room. It sounds insane, I know, so you can rest assured that I would not be asking about it if I were notcertainyou had done something. No one heals this quickly after being poisoned with Osha’s Kiss.”
Valerian said nothing, just kept that infuriatingly calm expression firmly in place.
“What. Did. You.Do?”
The duke lifted his chin, exposing more of his neck to Auberon’s blade. “I’d advise you to put away your weapon, Your Highness, lest you get blood on my doublet. I doubt my death at your hands would benefit you and your brother in the negotiations.”
“In about two seconds, the negotiations will be the least of your concerns,” Auberon spat, but through his anger, the rational part of his mind insisted that the duke was right. He couldn’t kill Valerian—nothere, at least. Not now.
“Sheathe the sword, and we’ll speak like civilized men. Eamon would struggle with the concept, but it shouldn’t be too difficult for you and me.”
Begrudgingly, Auberon released him and slid his sword into its sheath. He expected Valerian to shout for the guards, but the duke merely smoothed the wrinkles in his doublet and ran his fingers through his golden curls. When he caught Auberon’s wary look, he said, “I’m not going to call for the guards, nor am I going to tell the king what you just did. You and I are aligned in our hatred of the Kostori, which means that we can help each other.”
Auberon narrowed his eyes. “How so?”
“Without your brother as a potential suitor, the king would undoubtedly promise Lady Riona to Eamon. My country is too small and too insignificant to be of much value to him. I want to marry her, but if I end up losing her to your brother, so be it. I’ll gladly watch her marry Drystan if it spares her from a lifetime as Eamon’s wife. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
He turned to leave, but Auberon stepped in front of him. “Tell me what you did to me. That pounding, that heat… It’s driving me mad.”
Unease flashed across the duke’s face. “I did you a favor, Your Highness,” Valerian said, a warning in his voice, “and that is all. It would be best if we did not discuss this further. Trust me.”
“Youdidheal me. How?”
“I cannot say more, Your Highness. You owe me a debt—if not for healing you, then at least for not telling the king and his men that you threatened to kill me—and you may repay it by keeping what you have learned to yourself.” Valerian dipped his head and stepped around Auberon, heading to the door. “Thank you in advance for your discretion.”
As soon as Valerian’s footsteps faded, Auberon pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a curse under his breath. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper again. Making a mistake like that could cost his life, and it would certainly cost Drystan his chance to win Lady Riona’s hand in marriage—to say nothing of his own mission to learn more about the eudorite mines.
He pushed thoughts of the duke away as he started toward the great hall. He didn’t trust Valerian, but he supposed he didn’t have to; he only had to trust in Valerian’s hatred of the prince of Kostos. In that, at least, they were aligned.
