Page 67 of Nightingale

“Wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to get married.” Rian murmured, peering around him.

“What are you looking for?” Amir interrogated without tryingto hide his true intent, folding one large arm over the other. “Something to take? Something to hurt me with? Something to hurtherwith?”

“My weapons, good sir. It seems that I’ve lost them.” He peered down at himself, “As well as most of my clothing.”

“They had to be removed to check your wound. And when we brought them back to dress you up once again, they were in no salvageable state. So we found youotheraccommodations.” He grinned wickedly. “One’s more suited for your title.”

Unquestionably servant’s garb, then.

“Why am I here?” Rian asked as Amir pointed towards a small pile of fabric left on the end of the makeshift bed. It rested on a wooden platform that rose two feet off the ground, with a sheep’s skin as the bottom layer and a couple blankets piled on top. There was one pillow, flatter than a rock. How he’d been black-out asleep, he knew it was only because of whatever they’d used to drug him.

Lavender oil, if the floral residue that coated his throat was any indication. Mixed with something else he couldn’t put his thumb on.

“Because the Princess refused to allow me toendyou. I suggested that we leave you behind for the Blacklegs to finish off, or kill you ourselves.” He explained and stepped back even further to allow Rian to dress.

He didn’t turn around, however.

“She’s grown fond of me, what can I say?” The Prince chortled and slipped the pewter tunic over his head, angling his arms until they reached the end of the sleeves. He tied them off, tightening the pressure at his wrists and assuring that the shirt wouldn’t fall off. It wasn’t too tight, but it was a bit loose on his form.

“Thatis precisely what I’m worried about. And rightfully so.” Amir grumbled, refusing to turn his back on the male as heplucked one of his old boots off the floor. “I do not like the way you seem to have a hold over her. Not once, has she spared one ofyouan act of mercy. Now, three years later, she returns from her mission tokill youand she refuses to let even a Blackleg do the job.”

The horses were nowhere to be seen, along with their supplies. He’d chased after them, only to see another long-legged Blackleg crawl out from the furthest tunnels, charging back towards Vrea before they both could die on their own. How the horses slipped past, he wasn’t too sure.

They most likelyhadn’t.

Rian pushed his foot in, adjusting until it felt right. “Here I thought that would be better than trying to killher.So far in my book, I’ve set her free from Hawksmoor Keep, clothed her, fed her, defended her and even saved her life a couple of times. Looks like it might be you who owes me.”

The guard hissed out an unpleasant sound that reminded Rian of a sand-snake’s rattle. “The only reason that you still have your head attached to your neck, is because I listen to the Princess, not you. If she did not care about your wellbeing, for some foolish reason, then my sword would be halfway through your carotid artery by now.”

“Sounds wonderful.” He jested, flicking his brows up in a challenge. “Let’s go see her then, shall we?” He went to exit the tent by the flaps.

Amir blocked him with a tossed out hand, an armguard latched over his wrist and forearm. “Try anything, and I meananything,and I will skewer you from balls to brain without so much as a dash of hesitation.”

Rian grabbed his hand, shoving it off him. “Careul, Amir. You’re showing me just how badly you want me to try something. I can see the bloodlust for my death reflecting in your eyes. Allow me to let you in on something.” He dragged hischin upwards in a move that he’d seen his father do several times before when trying to intimidate an opponent.

“Enlighten me.” He said, bored.

Rian grinned, tugging at the collar of his new shirt as he pushed outside, the tall guard following him. “I don’t care who you are. I don’t care where I am. The only thing I care about is her getting home, alive. So you can try to stand in my way but I assure you, I am not leaving until I see her all the way back to Vasthold.”

“Thatis what concerns me.” Amir rotated to his right, allowing him to pass. “I guess we will just have to see how far you get, Moordian Prince.”

Thirty Three

Vrea heard her tent flap open, and heard the rustle of two pairs of legs as someone entered. She was bent over the work table, originally a dining table before she requested a map of Niroula. It arrived half an hour ago if the golden sand in the hourglass was any indication. She’d spent the last bit of time pouring over it, tracking their journey through the lands. They were making good time from the day they left, her path marked in triangular stones on the map.

“Princess.” Amir requested her focus, and after a second look at the distance left between the border of Niroula and Vasthold, she turned to see him.

Him,andRian.

Who bore a cocky expression that annoyed her enough to have a quick dart of regret in staying by his side as he healed for four days. Now he stood before her, healthy as before and in perfect condition.

“Miss me?” He said by way of greeting, running a hand through his messy auburn hair.

“No,” She lied seamlessly. “Amir, leave us.”

The captain looked skeptical, scanning Rian from head to toe as if he were a slab of tied meat in preparation for roasting over the campfire. Knowing the sentry, it was definitely a possibility. She was honestly surprised that Rianwasn’tin chains.

“I do not think that is a wise suggestion.” He politely turnedher down with a shake of his oval head. “I will remain until he is to leave.” His shoulders squared in a tell-tale way that informed Vrea that he was hard pressed to stay.

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