“King Gaius must know about the Kindred,” Prince Ashur continued, undeterred. “And I would imagine he wants it very badly. Without powerful magic to strengthen his hold upon this kingdom, he could be so easily crushed. Do you think he realizes this? But what does his Imperial Road have to do with anything? I believe he has ulterior motives for building it—motives that tie directly to the search for the Kindred. So many of his army patrol the road, spread thin across the three kingdoms of Mytica, leaving his castles in both Limeros and Auranos vulnerable to attack from overseas. Sounds like the move of an obsessed king with a very specific goal to me. What do you think?”
Despite the drinks, Nic’s mouth had gone bone dry. “I have no idea how to respond to such statements.”
“Are you sure about that? I think you have far more to offer someone like me than even you realize.” Ashur leaned forward, locking his gaze with Nic’s. The prince’s eyes stood out from his dark skin, a pale grayish blue, like the surface of the Silver Sea itself.
Nic’s heart pounded so loud and fast he couldn’t hear the buzz of conversation in the tavern anymore. “I wish you a very pleasant evening. Good night, Prince Ashur.”
He left the tavern and began walking through the maze of buildings and cobblestone streets to find his way back to the palace. However, soon he found himself hopelessly lost. Ten . . . eleven . . . fifteen drinks. How many had he had?
“Oh, Nic,” he mumbled. “Not good. Not good at all.”
Especially not when he realized someone now followed him.
He continued to walk swiftly while long shadowy fingers seemed to reach out toward him. He kept a hand at his belt, prepared to draw his sword on any attackers. The city had its share of thieves and pickpockets ready to kill if they thought they might get caught. King Gaius was famous for his ill treatment of prisoners, and no one wanted to find themselves in his already overly crowded dungeons.
Nic turned the next corner and stumbled to a halt when he found himself in a blind alleyway.
“Lost?” It was Prince Ashur’s voice that rose up behind him.
Tensing, he turned slowly. “Maybe a little.”
The prince’s gaze swept the length of him. “Perhaps I can help.”
Still no bodyguards. This prince walked the streets of a potentially lethal city with no protection.
Had he been able to tell that Nic had lied? What was he willing to do to get the truth about the Kindred and Cleo’s ring? And how fiercely could Nic defend that truth?
“I’ll tell you nothing,” Nic said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t care what you do to me.”
Ashur laughed at this. “You sound rather paranoid. Is that how wine from Terrea affects you? I’d suggest sticking with the Paelsian vintages from now on.”
The lightness of the reply didn’t set Nic’s mind at ease in the slightest. His survival instincts, while currently dulled by drink, paced back and forth with growing alarm. The twin daggers the prince carried drew his attention again.
“You want answers I can’t give you,” Nic said, disturbed by how slurred his words came out. “Answers to questions I don’t even know.”
Ashur drew closer. “You’re afraid of me.”
Nic staggered back a foot. “Why have you pursued me out into the streets? I can’t help you. Leave me alone.”
“Can’t do that. Not yet. First, I really must know something of great importance.”
The prince moved closer still. Before Nic could fumble for his sword to protect himself from attack, Ashur took his face between his hands and kissed him.
Nic stood there, frozen in place.
This was not what he’d expected. At all.
The prince twisted his grip into Nic’s shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss until Nic finally surprised himself by responding. The moment he did, the prince pulled back from him.
Nic stared at him, stunned.
“See?” Ashur said, smiling. “Proof for you that there’s more to life than drinking yourself into oblivion over a princess who thinks of you only as a friend. And there’s more to this great big world than this tiny, troubled kingdom and its greedy little king, even if it is every bit as valuable as I believe it to be.”
“Your grace—” Nic began.
“We’ll talk again very soon, I promise,” Ashur said, leaning in to give him another brief kiss that Nic didn’t try to stop. “And you will help me find the answers I need. I know you will.”
Chapter 31
MAGNUS
PAELSIA
Aron Lagaris had executed the rebel without hesitation. If not for this tangible proof of his ruthlessness, Magnus might think him merely a harmless peacock. But Aron had a curious taste for blood. No wonder the king had appointed him kingsliege. He had seen in the boy what Magnus had not. Furious, Magnus slept not a wink all night, trying to make sense of everything. It still pained him that they needed to abandon the search for Jonas for now, but he reminded himself that meeting with Xanthus, learning more about the road, could bring him answers that would lead him ever closer to the Kindred.
The moon was high when they finally arrived at the road camp, dirty and weary from their three days’ journey across the dusty Paelsian landscape. The Forbidden Mountains dominated the skyline, jagged and ominous black and gray forms with sharp, snowcovered tips reaching up into the night itself. This, of all the camps along the winding path of the road, was the most desolate of all, far from any inhabited villages.