Page 19 of An Oath and a Promise

“José,” Filiberto protested, but rather half-heartedly, I thought. “Stop molesting our king.”

They knew who I was. Shit. This wasn’t a random mugging.

“What do you want with Ren?” Mat asked in a low growl, his throat barely moving as he spoke against the restraint of the knife’s blade.

“Nothing special,” Filiberto drawled, unexpectedly indulging the question. His next words confirmed what I’d feared. “Just an enormous bounty on the easiest job we’ve ever done. Seriously, were you two even trying to hide?”

Mat’s scowl mirrored my own. Sure, neither of us had ever actually been on the run before, or indeed been left unsupervised without guards for very long, but we’d made it this far, hadn’t we?

How these two had found us before any of the Márosian guards was answered when Filiberto winked at the innkeeper, and the man tipped an imaginary hat to him in turn. Bad luck, then, that we’d been recognised by the locals and that there had been mercenaries close enough to capitalise on our misfortune. It perhaps meant Welzes and Navar were still ignorant of our location, but that wouldn’t mean shit once we were thrown back to them like offal tossed to a pack of starving wolves.

“Behave for us, boys,” Filiberto continued, “and we’ll treat you both like royalty. Which I suppose you are,” he added with a pleased grin, as if he considered himself hilarious.

Mat, who evidently didn’t think the same, swore viciously at him in Mazekhstani. Filiberto leant down to speak into his ear, fingers digging into my lover’s shoulder and making him wince.

“If you don’t, we’ll be forced to take precautions,” he warned. “Yet I would expect that you would prefer to face your fates with a little dignity, and not be presented before King Welzes hogtied and blindfolded?”

“Fine,” I said amicably, flashing him a grin. “We’ll be good. I swear it.”

Mat stared at me in disbelief.

And then he seemed to remember who I was and nodded fervently, falling effortlessly into his own lies.

“Of course,” he agreed with feigned meekness, his eyes going wide in that expression of innocence he did so well and which couldn’t be further from his true nature. “Please don’t hurt us? We’ll do whatever you say.”

“Then we really should be going,” Filiberto said, his grip on Mathias’ shoulder turning into a friendly pat.

“It’s already dark,” José complained. “And I bet they’ve already paid for a room.” He tugged my hair again, this time a little gentler. “What do you think about you and I making full use of it, ay?”

“José,” Filiberto protested.

“¿Qué?This is an opportunity of a lifetime. How many men can say they got to fuck a royal?”

“If we’re talking about that particular royal, probably more than you think. Settle down,” he snapped, as Mat’s shoulders heaved in anger. “You’re going to end up slitting your own throat.”

“Yeah, but they say Prince Ren has never taken it before,” José pointed out, and grinned down at me. “Your call, gorgeous. What do you say to buying yourself an extra night on this continent – you, me, and whatever mind-blowing final acts you’d like to try before you’re executed? There will be no judgment from me.”

I was spared from answering by my wildcat’s snarl.

“Nyet!Don’t touch him!”

I tipped my head back and gave José and his crestfallen look a sympathetic shrug. I’d also be disappointed to not get to fuck me. I had been reliably told by Mathias that it was phenomenal. Exquisite. Something along those lines. I hadn’t really been listening at the time, too full and satiated in my own bliss to pay attention to the exact compliments being paid.

“You really are an idiot, you know that?” Filiberto commented as he finally sheathed that damn knife and hauled Mathias bodily from his chair. “While you were busy riding below the crupper, what the fuck was I supposed to do? Stand outside in the cold with the rest of the men?”

Mat caught my eye, his expression reflecting exactly what I was thinking.

Rest of the men. Damn it. Hogtied or not, we’d have little chance to escape from a group of well-armed mercenaries.

“I want my share,” the innkeeper called in our direction as Mathias and I were shoved towards the door, all of the room’s occupants staring at us without any attempt at subtlety whatsoever. “Don’t you pretend to forget it this time, you Blessed bastards!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” José tossed back cheerily, before lowering his voice. “Greedy git,” he muttered. “We do all the work and he gets gold for nothing but keeping his eyes open for the bloody obvious.”

“Speaking of gold,” I said, “you know I can pay you far more than Welzes for letting us go, right?”

José patted my back almost sympathetically. “Not now you’re no longer an Aratorre, you can’t. And we ain’t taking the chance on you getting your hands on any money in the future, when we can get paid just fine for delivering your pretty ass to Máros right now.”

“I’m glad you think it pretty,” I replied, and jerked my chin at Mat ahead of us, “considering that one prefers to insult it instead of admiring it. I mean, does thislooklike an arrogant, cruel, spoiled ass to you?” I twisted around to pretend to look at it over my shoulder, while really directing my gaze to the mercenary’s belt to see if he was wearing any easily accessible weapons. Unfortunately, the one knife I could spot was tucked too far around his waist to reach and there was no way I’d be able to grab it before he stopped me.

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