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“If that’s what you're looking for, I mean. A fantasy romp with the princess of the Obtune Court.”
“And what makes you think I’m doing all this for a chance at the princess's virginity?”
Red snorted a second time. “She is no virgin.”
“Doesn’t matter. Answer the question.”
Wind blew over us, carrying the scent of the freshly baked bread that sat in the bakery's window. One of the last stores on this heavily crowded merchant street. The breeze tossed Red’s stick-straight black hair into her face, no matter how it brushed at her face she didn’t bother to move it.
“Isn’t that what most men who want to climb the ladder of success are trying to do?” Her gaze remained forward, her knuckles taut as she folded her hands in her lap.
“That is not the wall that this particular ladder is leaning on.”
Her dark eyebrow lifted in question. “Well, that’s good to know, because Princess Maggie prefers the company of women anyway.”
“I thought she was in love with what’s his name…that Prince from over yonder.” I pointed to my left, unsure of what direction that prince might live.
“By the mother.” Red brought her shackled hands up to scrub her cheeks and rolled her eyes before staring straight ahead. After a few silent minutes, she sighed and turned to face me. “You’re so stupid. She doesn’tlovehim. He is merely her means to ruling sooner. And if you are going to pretend to be from around here you should probably learn the names of the Purebloods. His name is Prince Dace, by the way. And he actually isn’t the prince anymore, if the rumor mill is correct.”
“Did he die?” I frowned. How could he just all of a sudden not be the prince anymore?
“No, his parents dethroned him.” She shrugged.
The busy streets faded away. Homes came and went in the following silence. Above our heads, the sun traveled across the sky, moving the shadows over Red’s impossibly pointed bone structure. As the last of the houses blurred at the edge of my sight and the paved path to the Acture Court began, I slowed the wagon. Gently, I laid the reins over the wood panel in front of us. It was still an oddity to me that there was so much leather in this court when mine would kill for even a taste of that material.
“What are we doing?” Red sat up.
“I’m hungry, aren’t you?”
I reached into the open dray behind us and lifted the lid of the wooden crate that carried our food. The very kitchen Red had worked in had packed this crate and something told me Red had been very loved in her position, not only by the king. A long sandwich was carefully wrapped in cloth. I undid the material and tore it in half, offering one portion to her. Metal clacked together roughly as she lifted her bound wrists with a frown.
“Oh, right.” I shoved her half in my mouth, holding it together with my teeth, as I pulled the key from my pocket and undid her shackles.
Quietly, she rubbed her red wrists. Twisting in her seat, she turned to face me and shook her head. “I want the half that hasn’t been in your dirty mouth.”
With a roll of my eyes, I handed her the other half and tore the bit out of my mouth. The sandwich had a wonderfully seasoned spread on it. Thick cuts of meat, cheese, and a savory sauce that had soaked into the loaf.
“Shouldn’t I be eating the soup?” she pointed out sourly while taking large bites of the sandwich.
My eyebrows furrowed as I thought. She was right, she probably should be. I just hadn’t thought about it. The seat creaked underneath me as I stretched back and looked into the crate at the canisters of cabbage soup that waited.
“Oops,” I said through my large bite.
The smallest tinge of a smile lifted the corners of her lips but quickly disappeared as she continued to eat and turned to face forward again. She ate slowly. Her jaw worked unrushed, chewing every bite thoroughly. I had expected her to scarf it down, but she seemed to be trying to make it last as long as possible.
“Don’t worry, there’s more. Unless you want the cabbage soup.”
“No, but I’ll be happy enough if you undo my unwanted accessory.” Red’s attempt at a flirtatious smile looked much more painful than it should have when she pointed down to her ankles.
I huffed a laugh and leaned down. The metal key slipped into the lock, the bindings on her feet opening to reveal the raw, red marks on her ankles.
“These must not be very comfortable,” I mumbled, pulling the metal away and setting it in the wagon behind us.
“Neither is this,” Red growled.
A jolt of pain bloomed at my nose and radiated up to the tears that formed in my eyes. The grip on my sandwich tightened, crushing the bread and meat together.
Red’s fist had met my face in an unexpected jab.
