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“Iknow!” I agreed, and we shared a moment of incredulousness before she gave a brisk, elated nod.
“I’m in. That’s far too damn crazy for me to ever say no to, and if whatever you have planned gets that lump of shit off the Quarehian throne, I’ll do what I can to help.” She side-eyed Ren. “Not that the alternative is much better.”
The prince clutched at his heart and batted his eyelashes at her. “You say the sweetest things, you pesky irritation.”
She blew him a kiss.
“Is the Hearken well enough to travel?” Astrid asked me.
I winced, feeling vaguely guilty about Dima’s extended and magically-induced unconsciousness but knowing it was the best way to protect him from the minds of the castle’s hundreds of occupants. “Hard to tell at the moment, but if you can lend us a carriage, it won’t be a problem. We can revive him once he’s out of the city and away from so many people.”
The queen’s expression thoughtful. “I’ve received word from my Quarehian contacts-”
“Spies,” Ren said with a meaningful cough into his hand. She eyed him with amusement.
“From myspies, that Welzes will shortly be travelling tola Cortinato solidify his position with the nobles of north and east Quareh. There’s been rumours of unrest in those provinces, and I expect he’s wanting to clamp down on it before it gets worse. If he leaves the healer behind in the capital, you might be able to-”
“No. He’ll be taking Yanev with him,” I said in a low voice, recalling what my Sight had shown me. I turned to Ren. “He’ll use Yanev’s lies to convince them he’s the rightful king as he did the nobility in Máros, and then he’ll dispose of the man. We’re running out of time.”
The prince nodded sharply. “Then we’ll leave immediately.”
“I’m coming with you,” Val said as he entered the throne room behind us.
“You arenot,” Ren retorted after giving an abrupt and rather loud laugh, clearly caught off guard. “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard from you, Velichkov, and that’s saying something.”
“Why?”
I expected my lover to complain about inconsiderate northerners stomping all over his lands, or the difficulty of sneaking the heir to Temar into a Quarehian palace.
“Because you might die, and that would be terrible,” Ren said instead.
Valeri stared at him, his mouth opening and closing awkwardly as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the prince’s unexpected concern.
“Terrible?” I prompted, suspecting there was more. There always was, with him.
“Sí.Valeri dies, you get even more dour and crabby than usual, and thenIdon’t get laid,” Ren explained in a tone that said it was obvious, and my brother sighed.
“Nat?”
“I would love you to come,” I said, ignoring Ren’s childish snort at the phrasing, “and we would greatly appreciate the help. But I would also prefer you didn’t die.”
“I’m not going todie,” Val assured me, his exasperated tone suggesting I was being ridiculous. As if there weren’t literally tens of thousands of people on this continent who’d gladly put all three of our heads on spikes for the money or glory it would bring them, and that our so-calledplanconsisted of little more than a vague goal: get Dima close enough to Yanev to read his mind and discover the extent of his lies, and then produce the Hearken to the nobles as evidence that Ren’s birthright remained intact. How exactly we would do any of that when we were wanted men, Dima couldn’t function around too many other people, and Yanev’s remaining life was ticking down to a messy end at the end of Welzes’ knife, I didn’t know, but Ididknow that having my brother at our side made me feel more optimistic about our success.
Ren offered me a cheerful wink, letting me know that he didn’t actually have a problem with Val accompanying us, and then proceeded to ferociously argue with him about it for over half an hour while we made plans to depart. Becausemoy dorogoicould neverdo anything as simple as saying“thank you, Valeri.”
*
Chapter Thirty-Two
I had just gotten Mathias exactly where he belonged – beneath me and openly panting – when Velichkov ripped open the door of the carriage we’d sequestered ourselves in. Even without looking around I could feel the heir’s irritated displeasure filling the air, a heavy, tangible thing that needed a good flick on the nose to send it scurrying away.
“I have tositthere,” he growled.
I gestured with my foot at the opposite bench to where we were making out. “Sit there instead.”
“And spend the day watching you molest my brother? No.”
A huge hand grabbed me by the nape of my neck and hauled me bodily off Mat, undoing all of my work in climbing on top of him as if that shit had been effortless instead of a violent, intensely hot struggle that had occupied most of the last five minutes.
