Page 40 of Nightingale

“Do it, Castil.” The King tempted him with a cruel curve of his mouth until the bottom of his teeth were visible. “See how close you can get. I guess you’d be able to stop a millimetre away from my chest before the sentries send a bolt flying into your heart.”

Crossbows.

Castil spun around, searching the garden perimeter for any flash of sun on metal, any stray piece of hair out of place, any wooden shaft to alert him to their location. His eyes furiously darted around from place to place until he at last landed on the brown feather that stuck out, far too low for a bird to nest where there was nowhere to perch.

It was easy to spot the others from there.

Fourteen in total, all hidden and all waiting for the King to give the signal that he and only he knew. No one else could call them off.

“If you wanted me dead, then why not just order your men to do it already?” He said through gritted teeth as he turned back around. “It’s obvious that you aren’t going to place me on the Carylim throne, so why not get thedamnedthing over with?”

“Because if Rian hears that I ordered your death, then he won’t take the throne without issue. Brioc is far too dull to be King and Regulus wants ittoomuch. I refuse to place a woman on the throne, but Orla will suit a lord or duke nicely once I have a need for a marriage alliance.” The sovereign explained without any remorse or denial that he wanted his son dead.

“So I’m a pawn.” He bit out.

“You always have been, from the very start.”

Castil swallowed his anger down, forcing every bit of his flaming fury into a cool resolve, covering his true emotions in a layer of frost-bitten ice as he’d always done. “Fine. I’ll leave tomorrow. Then you can be rid of me and your hands will seem clean enough for my brother to stay by your side.”

His agreement seemed to please the man as he walked towards the entrance only to pause before he reached the door and say one last blood-curdling thing.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Vrea is no longer our prisoner, so our bargain no longerstands.” The Prince spat out, ignoring the broken clenching of his lower stomach and the disgust that rattled his bones to his very core. Everything inside of him shrivelled at an unimaginable pace, clawing for freedom. To get away from this place, and the man that held the power over all of their heads.

The King only chuckled. “Why do you think I’m sending only you, instead of my best men? One last time Castil, forhersake.”

Twenty

For three nights and four days, they saw no trouble. Not a single sign of it appeared on their travels, which meant that something was coming. It was only a matter of time and they both knew it, in the deepest parts of their dark, murderous souls. They were a few days away from entering the well-known parts of the mountain range that they’d been riding through. The one that was marked on every map for heavy encounters with bandits and thieves of all varieties.

Those who threatened with small blades for a handful of jewels and family heirlooms. Those who cut down one of the few trees in the area and placed it in front of a path for carriages to stop as they dropped down and stole bags and chests full of valuable items. Those who weren’t afraid to kill to get their hands on precious things.

Vrea didn’t remove her sight from the road ahead as her horse swished its large hips, moving down the rocky terrain with ease, and an occasional huff of protest when she urged it past a couple mounds of viridian grass. The beast, who was aptly named Onyx as the Prince educated her after the horse tried to eat a dandelion that was far off the path, liked to eat anything and everything that could be considered tasty. Which put Vrea in a horrible mood, minus the lack of sleep.

If she missed anything from her capture, it was the endless amount of rest that it allowed her. Not that there was much elseto do within her confined chambers.

She’d taken the first watch last night, and woken him up. He’d given her a sleepy smile and let her take up a spot on the bedrolls in an attempt to catch a few hours before they set off with the sun. For the last few evenings they’d swapped who went first and last to better allow their bodies to relax for the allotted requirement, even if it meant getting less than normal. There was an ache in her bones, a weariness in her muscles and an uncomfortability in her joints from the stiff rocks that had become her bed, even if under the thin roll.

He seemed to lack energy as well and they didn’t engage in casual conversation for most of the days, which was perfectly fine by her. It had rained hard on the second day, dousing them both until they were soaking and shaking in their sleep, enough so that even the flickering fire didn’t keep them warm for the night. He’d taken the second watch and she’d woken to find a wool blanket draped over her figure, and a Prince who refused to admit that he’d given it to her, no matter how hard she demanded an answer from him.

Vrea had to admit that she admired his determination. As well as a few other things that she shouldn’t have admired at all, let alone looked at. Before they’d left for the morning, he’d stripped off his clothes and taken a quick wash in the frigid stream since it was the last river that they’d see in quite some time according to him.

He’d unabashedly tossed his dirty clothes off, promising to wash them before he was done and set a clean set off to the side of the muddy bank while he bathed. Rian had shown her the yucca plant he’d packed as well, a floral that when rubbed and dampened with water could cause suds. An item in the place of soap that took up far less space in a pack. He’d given her a small handful and told her to bathe after he was done.

But as the bronzed skin sank into the water, she’d peeked fromher spot by the horses. Watched as he ran the sudsy flower all over until parts of him were shining and clean, causing a natural reaction in her nether regions that led to an uncomfortable ride for the rest of the day.

Rian had no tattoos like Brioc did in his triangular patterns around his biceps, or the star that Regulus had on his low hip, but he didn’t need any. He never wore jewellery and his clothes were fancy but nothing overstated. Especially not now. His skin had darkened a shade or two in the sun as they rode through the mountains, but nothing compared to the blistering heat that summer bore.

Her own bath had been quicker than lightning, as if he knew that she’d seen him and would retaliate by observing her in the water. Fair would be fair and he’d seen her twice now, but there was still something sensitive and private about it. She’d considered crawling into his bed mat twice now to soothe the desire that radiated through her from her dry spell, not by her own part. They’d almost gone through with it before, why was it any different now?

The Prince didn’t show any signs of similar thoughts if he had any at all, instead mostly ignoring her presence for the journey as if she wasn’t there. It didn’t annoy her and she rather enjoyed the silence as they rode side by side. Even if her nights were filled with the sight of his bare body now, thanks to his wash in the stream.

Thankfully, Vrea wasn’t the sort to talk in her sleep or give away any details about her dreams.

Nor was he.

He barely moved in his sleep, to the point where she’d kicked him with the tip of her boot once to make sure that he was still alive. His breathing had been slow and almost impossible to detect, as if he’d trained himself to look dead as he slept. Considering who he’d grown up with, it wasn’t outside the realmof possibility.

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