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Nicolo shrugged. “I’ve heard stories that in your youth you would drink a bottle of brandy before battle.”
Wylder kept his eyes firmly on Nicolo, something few dared to do. “Are you and your prince going into battle this afternoon?”
“He isyourprince too, your grace.”
Wylder’s expression hardened. “I serve my queen with pleasure and honor. But I draw the line there.”
Nicolo shrugged. “The succession is the succession.”
“And ‘prince’ is more than a title.”
Nicolo nodded. “True. It is a birthright.”
A thin smile spread across Wylder’s face. “Tell that to Otti the First. Or to the king he slew to win the throne.”
Nicolo poured himself a drink, as though to position himself on Balduin’s side of the argument as Balduin never missed an opportunity to imbibe. “I’m sure neither of us would wish a return to the wars of accession, your grace.”
Duke Wylder’s affront subsided a little. “You are right about that, Nicolo. As a man who has fought in many a war, I don’t want to see such bloodshed again. But, as a man who fought in many a war, I also don’t want a preening, drunken dilettante on the throne.”
“The trouble with not having any wars,” mused Nicolo as he leaned back into his chair and rested his long, booted legs on the top of his desk, twirling his crystal glass of amber liquid, “is that the lack of battle makes it very difficult for heirs to prove themselves in the eyes of a certain—forgive me—old-fashionedelement in the court.”
“I’m not in your damned court,” growled Wylder. “And I don’t expect my prince, nor even my king, to have seen battle. But nor do I expect him to be a womanizing sot who surrounds himself with—forgive me—ass-licking toadies, who might know how to fence, but would hide under a woman’s skirts sooner than face real danger. King Balduin would let the Gath go to ruin so as long as it didn’t affect his personal supply of strong wine, fancy clothes and willing women.” He flicked a glance at me. “My apologies, Miss.”
“You may speak freely in front of my squire,” said Nicolo. “Charlotte is the equal of any man and the better of most.”
Of course, I was floored by Nicolo’s words, but then I wondered if he really meant them as a compliment to me or was merely saying them to shock Wylder. And to my further surprise, Wylder didn’t seem to care about my presence, my status as Nicolo’s squire or the fact that I wore a sword. Not only did he have no objection, he just seemed to accept my presence here as normal—something it simply wasn’t. He was clearly the enemy of Prince Balduin and thus, Nicolo, but I had to admit, I rather liked him.
I also wondered if he might be the man who had hired me, whose identity not even the Guild knew. Hmm, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if such were the case because the proverbial puzzle pieces appeared to fit.
Wylder paused. “Damn it, give me a glass of brandy.”
Nicolo snapped his fingers at me. “Charlotte.”
I hurried to pour the old warrior a glass and handing it to him, he immediately slugged it back.
“Nicolo, can we talk as men?”
Nicolo smiled and the expression was full of victory. “I wasn’t aware you were mincing your words.”
Wylder gave him a half-smile. “I don’t like you.”
I couldn’t help the shock that soared through me. I had never witnessed anyone speaking so directly and rudely to Nicolo. As to the man in question, he simply smirked.
Nicolo nodded and continued to give Wylder the same predatory smile. “Very good.”
“You’ve done nothing to deserve your role in this court,” Wylder continued. “And I don’t like it that you’re the only one who has the ear of that halfwit who’s too close to the throne.” Wylder took a breath. “You bully and threaten people because the prince’s power is behind you, but without that you’re nothing. But,” he held up a finger, “I know how you got here.”
“Do you?” Nicolo asked and it was then that I noticed he hadn’t once taken a sip of his brandy. He’d just sat there, swirling it this entire time. And I was quite sure that was entirely on purpose.
Wylder nodded. “I don’t like that either—what happened to you when you were a boy was wrong. It was no way to treat a child and maybe that’s made you the ruthless man you are.”
I watched Nicolo as Wylder spoke because I was curious as to Nicolo’s reaction to conversation about his boyhood. There was no change in his expression. The only thing to give away any hint of his discomfort was the slight tightening in his jaw.
After Wylder finished his statement, he seemed to remember I was still standing there and looked over at me with hesitation.
“Continue,” Nicolo barked at him. “I already told you not to concern yourself with my squire. I imagine she is finding this conversation as interesting as I am.”
I was but said nothing.
