Page 22 of The Devil's Son


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“Oh,” Sebastian murmured. “Hm. I don’t know…”

Lucan took the liberty of clasping Sebastian’s shoulder in a firm grip, the only touch he dared allow himself.

“These decisions do not have to be made tonight,” he said. “We have many, many nights ahead. Many hard days to come. For now, you should rest.”

Sebastian nodded.

“She wouldn’t let me have any cake,” he said. “Do you think she knew?”

“I cannot say, sire. But it seems unlikely the queen Melinda would serve herself poisoned cake on purpose.”

“She always did have an odd sense of humor,” Sebastian mused.

The boy was very confused and tired. Lucan looked around for somewhere for Sebastian to lay his head. The hunter’s hut did not have a bed, and that was a good thing, for it likely would have been infested with lice if it did.

“You should try and get some rest,” Lucan said. “I will keep watch.”

“No,” Sebastian shook his head. “You should get some rest. You are the one who saved me. Thank you for that, by the way, very kind of you. You are the one who can fight. I can offer nothing besides my ongoing consciousness. You sleep. I will keep watch.”

Lucan paused. His instincts told him that it would be best if Sebastian slept, but the prince made a good argument. There was a possibility that they would be tracked, even if they had not been followed. He knew the capabilities of the other soldiers, the betrayers. Many of them were very adept in their respective specialities, and there was more than one tracker among their number.

He had done his best to take paths up through rivers so hounds would lose scent, but there were preternatural trackers who could follow fleeing prey for days on end. Lucan did not know who was behind the coup. He had not heard so much as a whisper of unrest, and yet there were so many palace guards in those red tabards.

The only conclusion Lucan could come to was that he had been tested somehow and found wanting by those undermining the crown. More likely than not, they had intended to kill him outright, but he had spent the entirety of the day with Thadecus and no assassin had any opportunity that would not have been noticed immediately and given rise to action that may very well have prevented the loss of nearly the entire royal family.

Sebastian was not supposed to have survived his birthday party. His continued existence would not be tolerated by the usurper, of that Lucan was almost certain. Part of him screamed that it was stupid to have stopped so soon, but the horse was tired and the prince was exhausted and both would do better with some rest. Besides, one could not simply mindlessly flee. He would have to come up with a plan, and a plan would be best formulated with a rested mind.

He glanced at Sebastian, seeing for a moment what he had always seen: a spoiled weakling unsuited for the throne. But as he looked longer, his gaze shifted and he saw something else. He saw a young man daubed in blood and mud. He saw someone maintaining composure in the face of extreme adversity and misery. He saw, for the briefest of moments: a future king.

3 A BURNING SENSATION

When Lucan woke up, Sebastian had let the fire go out. Perhaps that was because he did not know any better, or perhaps it was because he was asleep on his feet, leaning up against the chimney with his arms wrapped around himself, snoring gently against rough stonework.

If Sebastian had been a squire, he’d have woken to a clip around the ear and a lecture about being on watch. Maybe that was what Lucan should have done, but instead he rekindled the fire from the ashes, wrapped his cloak around the sleeping Sebastian, and gently lowered him next to the fire to sleep more comfortably, providing his folded up tabard as a pillow. Sebastian did not wake up as he was moved, he was too thoroughly exhausted after a long night of attempting to remain awake.

Day had come, and though the need to move was still urgent, so was the need to keep body and soul together, not to mention morale high. But Lucan wanted Sebastian to sleep, and going to ground was not the worst tactic in the world. They could not stay here forever, of course. There was no doubt in his mind that the hunt for Sebastian would not end the way the late King Thadecus’ hunts ended. The usurper had clearly laid his plans and traps a long way ahead of time. He would not be pleased at a twist of fate, Melinda Force’s meddling motherhood denying the villain his prey.

For now, Lucan decided to let Sebastian sleep. They needed food. Good food. Animal good. Though Lucan was loathe to leave the prince on his own, he knew that it would be much faster and more effective to hunt on his own. Some kind stranger had left behind an old bow and a few arrows. Lucan availed himself of the weapon, once again mentally thanking whoever had left this cabin so well stocked. It very well might prove to save their lives.

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