Page 16 of The Omega Thief

Raz and everyone else turned to where Bartholemew was stood, gazing at Raz as if he was staring at something washed up in the sewer. “Our high-and-mighty prince is going to pay for the funerals, is he? Coin won’t bring ‘em back.” He spat. “Coin won’t give my Jenny back her face.”

“Jenny?” Attiker repeated in horror as Raz put his hand on Thakeray’s shoulder when the man drew his sword, perceiving Bartholemew as a threat.

“I understand your grief,” Raz said calmly. “And I will do all I can to restore whatever I can. Healers are being brought from the palace as we speak.” Raz stepped up to Bartholomew despite his guards trying to block him. “Jenny is alive, and she will get the best of care.”

Bartholemew seemed to realize who he was speaking to then and faltered. Attiker took a step forward to offer any comfort he could, but the man just nodded and turned back to where the healers were.

“Jenny?” Attiker demanded.

“The whole left side of her face is burned,” Thakeray confirmed. “But she will heal.”

But at what cost? Jenny was a ray of sunshine to all who knew her. Anything that dimmed her bright spark hurt Attiker’s heart. He should have been here. He might have been able to help. Might have been able to save people.

Raz glanced at Thakeray. “We’ll return to the palace only so I’m not a distraction to getting work done, but I want men here until the fire is completely out. Then, I want damage estimates and repair teams assembling. Bring food down from the kitchens.” With that, Raz turned as one of his men led the same horse as before towards him. This time, Attiker wasn’t offered a hand. Raz simply picked him up and tossed him on the horse like a child, vaulting up, but this time behind him. Attiker would have objected, but he was too busy hanging on to the cloak to stop flashing his arse and every other bit he didn’t want folk to see. He was also a little protective of how he was sitting. Raz picked up the reins, effectively trapping Attiker’s body in his arms, and set off.

Raz didn’t say one word all the way back, still obviously angry. Despite Attiker’s growing resentment at being treated like a child and his complete confusion at what had happened in the last day and night, he wasn’t having a conversation, fight, or any other exchange of words until he had clothes on.

Even Attiker had standards.

They clattered through the palace gates a few minutes later, and this time, Attiker decided to risk his nether regions by sliding off the horse himself, hoping to God nothing got trapped on the way down.

He made it the long way to the ground unscathed and followed Raz inside, refusing to run after him, despite Raz striding ahead. He was met by a rather portly but smiling gentleman that Raz ignored and rushed past.

“Your Highness, I understand your belongings have been destroyed. If you would follow me, I can get you measured for a wardrobe and find some temporary clothing?”

Attiker didn’t want to lose Raz as his knowledge of the palace was confined to one bedroom and the dungeons, but the fact of the matter was he couldn’t stay under this cloak forever. He was also starving. Then the knowledge of who wouldn’t ever eat again hit him, and he stumbled. The man quickly caught him, and a guard stepped up protectively.

“Summon a healer,” the man ordered someone over Attiker’s shoulder.

“No, I’m fine. Just been a long night.” Day. Life. He walked into a large chamber and gaped at the bath standing in the middle of the room, young lads in livery rushing to and fro with steaming buckets of water, and his eyes widened dramatically.

“I thought Your Highness would wish for a bath,” the man said in explanation. Attiker still gaped. He’d never had a real bath. Well, not if you discounted the scrubbing tub his ma used to dunk him in when he was little, and then you’d be lucky if the water was more than tepid. Attiker thought he should object for some reason, but when the plates of food arrived, he decided to use his mouth for other things. He’d get clean, fed, and some clothes. Then he’d go find his Royal High and Mightiness and have the argument he’d known was brewing in those dark golden eyes.

Then he was leaving. He had no idea what Raz had been smoking to imagine Attiker was something special to him. In fact, that was probably why he’d been so furious earlier. Maybe he regretted coming to the tavern. Attiker huffed. Of course he did. Despite Attiker finding a wolf—which would come in handy right now, he came to think of it. The Patir Hills wouldn’t be a challenge anymore, that was for sure—Raz was still the crown prince, and Attiker was still gutter trash.

Would always be gutter trash.

Chapter eight

Razwantedtothrowsomething. He wanted to put his fist through something hard and breakable. He’d turned his back for one second, and his bonded had nearly been killed. He strode into his ante-chamber and dove for the brandy decanter, pouring a larger portion than he’d ever had. Then he tipped the whole lot down his throat and tried very hard not to cough his lungs up at the resulting burn.

Why? What had possessed him to allow Attiker to even go with him? He should be hung for risking his bonded’s life so, and what he’d done when they arrived had been even worse. He’d immediately started assisting to get the fires out and just expected Attiker to stay with him.

I won’t make that mistake again. Raz eyed the decanter and reluctantly put down the glass without refilling it. He had work to do. Lowering his inhibitions would result in one of two things. Both involving his bonded, and both were something he might regret.

The knock at the door made Raz look up from where he was trying to find fresh ink in his desk, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Pinkerton walked in. “Your Highness. I have ordered the Commissary to approve emergency supplies of food-stuffs, medical accoutrements, and animal feed. I’m waiting for a report from Commander Blake listing what materials he needs.”

Commander Blake—his head engineer—followed Pinkerton in a few minutes later. Raz glanced up from where he was reading a list of dead and injured. They had been incredibly lucky. There were still three dead, and his heart hurt at the loss of the stable boy, but it could have been many, many more. It was only that the head groom had gone looking for the boy that the fire had been discovered.

Raz’s eyes narrowed. Why had he gone in search of him? Had he been unexpectedly late?

He focused on Blake, who still hadn’t spoken, and took in the man’s grave expression. His stomach tightened. “What is it?”

“Sire.” Blake was one of the older generals who both preferred the title of commander and used the diminutiveSire. In battle,Your Highnesswas too much of a mouthful.

Raz glanced at Pinkerton. “Give us the room, please.” Pinkerton immediately left, shooing his two assistants out before him. Raz waved Blake to a seat in front of his desk and poured him a brandy from the same decanter he’d had a drink from earlier. Blake accepted it gratefully and downed it in one, just as Raz had earlier.

“Sire, we retrieved the stable lad’s body. The master surgeon has taken a look, and he says there’s damage to the skull, likely resulting in death before the fire. The rest of the body is too badly burned for him to be certain.”

---