The guard fiddled with the manacles until, with a freeing click, their weight was gone. Niko rubbed his sore wrists, working feeling back into them.
“Shall I leave?” the guard asked.
“No.” Vasili’s smile grew sinister. “This one will try and kill me given a chance. Won’t you, Nik?” He downed his wine without waiting for a reply and sauntered across the room. His sloppy stride suggested he’d consumed more than one glass that morning. “I offered you coin before; now you don’t get a choice.” He reached for the bottle with his left hand and refilled his glass, spilling the last few drops. “My brother is dead. You will kill the man who killed him.”
Niko continued rubbing his wrists, giving his hands something to do while his thoughts turned over.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what? Kill a man?”
“Why ask me?”
“You don’t know?” Vasili snorted. “I heard all about your altercation in the cell. You protected a lunatic. Did it make you feel better, throttling the man who killed your charity case, or did you murder him because you were angry and he was convenient?” The prince grinned again. “Truly, I’d like to know.”
Niko gritted his teeth and turned his face away. He should not have laid a hand on anyone in the cell. He wouldn’t have, but lately his nerves and fury ignited like a spark. It had been harder and harder to keep himself controlled. Like with the prince in the pleasure house. He’d lashed out and his mistake had brought him here among these royals—people he despised in a world that wasn’t his.
Vasili strode closer, his long legs quickly eating up the distance between them. “I asked you… Nikolas.” He peered into Nikolas’s eyes and blinked. “Because I recognize a killer when I see one. And if you speak of this task outside of this room, nobody will believe you.”
He could lunge now, wrap his fingers around Vasili’s neck and maybe end it, but what good would that do anyone? The elder prince would be dead, but one prince would remain. The king still lived, and there were probably half a dozen other Cavilles lined up, eager to wear the crown, and all were a curse upon this land.
Vasili wet his lips. Niko watched the viper’s mouth part, watched the tip of his tongue stroke over his bottom lip. “You’ve thought about killing me,” the prince said. “Many have. Many more dangerous than you. Yet here I stand, very much alive.” He seemed to gain a twisted sense of glee from that statement, then threw back his second glass of wine in several gulps. His throat undulated, so delicate for someone full of poison.
Suddenly the prince whirled and launched the glass at the wall. It shattered spectacularly, raining jagged fragments across the floor. Vasili laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. Just madness.
Niko glanced at the guard. The man hadn’t flinched, staring across the room completely unfazed. It seemed this was normal behavior for the prince.
Vasili flopped into a chair, elegant limbs sprawling. He rested his right wrist gingerly over his waist. “Toss him back in the cell until he agrees.”
Niko swallowed, dread filling his empty gut.
The guard grabbed his wrists. He couldn’t go back there. If he went back, he’d get weaker, and then he’d have no choice at all. He yanked an arm free of the guard’s fingers.
“Come on, now,” the guard grumbled, reaching again. “Back we go.”
Niko ducked the guard’s arm, plucked the shortsword from the guard’s sheath, hearing him shout, and bolted for Vasili.
The prince didn’t move from the chair, barely even twitched, so when Niko fell over him—the guard’s blade drawn back to plunge into the prince’s heart—he did not expect to feel the bite of steel at his throat. But there it was, freezing Niko rigid.
“Hm.” The prince licked his lips and tilted his head. His eye widened, drinking in Niko’s murderous glare. “A free lesson, from me to you. Call it a gift. I’m always one step ahead, Nik.” He flicked his wrist and the blade nicked Niko’s skin, drawing his blood for a second time.
The guard barked something. A dull thump stole Niko’s vision, filling it in with throbbing blackness, and the last thing he saw as he plunged into unconsciousness was Vasili’s cruel smile.
He agreed to the prince’s order two days later, delirious from hunger. The same sandy-haired guard who had escorted him everywhere led Niko through more palace corridors, all of them blurring into one long stream of opulence. It was dreamlike. If Niko could pretend this was all a nightmare, then whatever happened here didn’t matter.
Hot, damp air brought him back into the moment. Niko blinked at the sunken baths behind the guard. Steam rolled off surfaces scattered with rose petals, and clung to tiled walls. Water streamed into pools and ran into drains recessed into the stone floor. They were alone, which seemed unusual for the size of the bathing house.
The guard reached up to unbutton Niko’s rancid shirt.
Niko grabbed the guard’s gloved hand, holding him back, and met his gaze.
He was out of his heavy armor and instead in a simple tunic and trousers. Had this moment arrived two weeks ago, Niko would have tackled him. He’d be a match physically, but he didn’t have the look of a man accustomed to violence, despite his profession. But two weeks into his prison sentence and Niko could barely stand without swaying on his feet. He was in no condition to fight. Not without food and water and rest.
“The prince wants you clean,” the guard said.
“I can bathe myself.”
The guard lowered his hand. “I’m sure you can. But if you slip and injure yourself, it’ll be my head the prince takes.”
They both knew which prince he was referring to, and it irked Niko to know Vasili was able to issue commands without being present.
His shirt buttons vexed him. His fingers didn’t seem to want to obey, his body slow to respond. If he’d been fed, he’d be more able, but cleanliness was apparently more important than starvation. Even so, Niko wasn’t about to allow a stranger to disrobe him. He had some pride left.
The guard stepped back and folded his arms, clinically observing while Niko stripped naked and descended the steps into steaming water. His entrance sloshed water over the sides. He sank his shoulders beneath the surface. The heat was unexpected and welcome, kneading into sore muscles like warm hands.
A room full of hot baths seemed surreal. He couldn’t imagine how they were heated. A natural spring, perhaps. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d indulged in a hot bath. Before the war, surely. Sighing, he leaned back against the pool’s edge. Flushed and light-headed, his body was warning him to wash quickly before he passed out—but by the three, it felt divine.
A sponge hit the water, splashing his face. He grabbed at it and wrung water through it a few times. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” Vasili said.
Niko whipped his head around to see the prince making his way around the bath. Most lords had boots with metal heels to announce their presence wherever they went, but Vasili’s boots barely made a noise on the stone. Vasili didn’t announce. He lurked like the snake he was.
“Clean the filth off yourself,” the prince said with a flick of his pale hand.