He’d been about to, but having Vasili command him made him hesitate. He’d been a good soldier, able to follow orders and issue them, but hearing this prince’s dismissive tone summoned a petulance Niko hadn’t known he’d possessed.
“Your betrayal cost me a brother.” Vasili stopped at the foot of the bath and tilted his head. His hair fell over his damaged eye, almost hiding it completely. Tilting his head must have been a habit formed either to hide his eye or to help himself focus better. It suggested the wound was old enough for him to have adapted. “You owe me your service, mercenary. That is what you are now? A blade for hire?”
“Mercenaries are paid, not beaten.” Niko dragged the sponge across his face, scraping the natural fibers across his beard. It did feel good to rid himself of the grit and stench that clung to him from the cells. He let his eyelids droop.
“You’ll pay with your life if you betray me again.”
“I can’t betray those who haven’t earned my loyalty.”
Vasili’s laugh was hollow, like the man it belonged to. He knelt at the foot of the bath and dangled the fingers of his left hand into the warm water, circling a rose petal, making it spin. “Honest words such as yours will cost you your tongue. I advise you keep them to yourself from now on.”
Niko bit his tongue to keep from telling the prince to go fuck himself and focused instead on washing across his chest. “May I speak freely?”
Vasili lifted his chin, brow raised in surprise. “I assumed you already were. Go ahead. Julian is my…personal protection. Whatever you say will never go beyond the three of us. Unless I wish it, of course.”
The guard, Julian, was standing near the wall, away from the bath. He raised an eyebrow at Niko’s over-the-shoulder glance, but said nothing. “You have access to assassins,” Niko said, facing Vasili again. He didn’t like having the prince leave his line of sight. The guard was unlikely to stab him in the back, but the prince might. “Why not ask one of them to kill your target?”
“Because it’s exactly what they’d expect of me.”
“They?”
He removed his fingers from the water, flicked them dry, and straightened, tugging his finely tailored shirt into alignment. His single-eyed gaze roamed Niko’s face again, then briefly dropped below the waterline to where Niko pulled the sponge over his navel.
The water rippled, obscuring Niko’s nakedness, but even so, Niko still felt the crawl of the prince’s eye. His skin crackled with discomfort. The gaze wasn’t clinical, like Julian’s. Vasili looked at Niko like a butcher deciding which prime cut to carve off next. There didn’t seem to be any weapons about his person, but Niko hadn’t seen the dagger the prince had pressed against his throat until it was already kissing his skin.
He touched his neck, brushing the scab hidden inside unruly stubble. The mark was small, but deep enough it might scar.
“If anyone asks you who you are, you say you are Prince Vasili’s doulos.”
“I’m what?” He couldn’t have heard correctly.
“Simply that. You are mine. You have no name and no purpose beyond serving me.”
“I don’t understand. A doulos? I thought I was hired to kill someone?”
“All in good time, Nik.”
Niko’s brows pinched. Of course the viper would go back on his word. “I see the Cavilles are the same liars now as they’ve always been.”
Vasili smiled. “You have no idea.”
Niko stared ahead as the prince strode from the bathhouse.
His fingers gripped the sponge so tightly they ached. Doulos was a derogatory term reserved for criminal slaves—thieves that had been pressed into service instead of having their fingers severed as punishment for their crimes. He’d seen some of the worst offenders whipped in public and ordered to perform debased acts while a jeering crowd watched. He’d rather die than be so disgraced.
But it didn’t matter what Vasili called him.
Once clean and fed, his strength restored, he’d flee the palace and the city. There was nothing left for him here, anyway. The lawless, gang-ridden coastal southern lands with its sunbaked city of Seran—named after the gods dumping ground for wrong-doers—were the perfect place to hide. He’d adapt, find a place among those people. Ships needed metalwork. He could turn his hand to blacksmithing. It was less conspicuous than mercenary.
“Finish cleaning and get dressed,” Julian ordered.
Niko measured his breathing and focused his mind, ignoring the way Vasili’s presence alone had boiled his blood. He’d only have to endure him for a few more days; then he’d be gone and the Cavilles could bicker among themselves for all he cared. Perhaps the Cavilles’ reign would soon be ended, because the elves would finally reach the city gates and paint the palace red with royal blood. Whatever happened, Niko would not be here to see it.
Chapter 4
Julian showed Niko to the cramped doulos chambers and his cot set against the far wall, a long way from the door. It was an improvement from sleeping on the cell floor, but it was still a prison. Bars for windows made that clear.
The clothes waiting for him were scant at best, and clearly designed to make a man feel vulnerable. A tunic, belt, undergarments, and sandals. No pants, Niko’s assets would be swinging in the breeze beneath the tunic. He usually slept in more. “This is ridiculous. I’m not…” he trailed off as the heads of the others in the chamber turned his way. They were all similarly dressed. Two men, one woman. Doulos. Criminals-turned-slaves.
Julian sighed. “By all means, complain to the prince when you next see him. I’m sure you don’t need all ten of your fingers.” He left Niko’s side, and as he passed by the beds of the others, he said, “He’s Vasili’s.” Like those two words were enough to strike fear into their hearts. It might have worked for anyone who wasn’t a doulos, but the three didn’t look at Niko in fear. Distrust, curiosity, and hatred gleamed in their eyes. Julian had just painted a target on Niko’s back.
The woman approached first. “Fresh blood,” she said. “What did you do?”
They were all smaller than Niko and not a threat on their own. But the three of them could overpower him. He missed his sword. “Broke Vasili’s wrist,” he said. “Also mentioned a few truths he didn’t want to hear.”
She laughed. “Oh sweetie, you’re so green we could plant seeds in you.” It was probably the most genuine laugh he’d heard in weeks. “Josephine.” She offered her hand. “I stole some fruit and was stupid enough to get caught.”
Niko grasped her wrist and they shook. “Well met, Josephine.” He nodded at the others, acknowledging them. “My name’s Nikolas.”
“A soldier?” she asked.
“Not officially trained. I was drafted to the front line.”
She appraised him anew. “We’ve all been assuming Vasili would never keep a doulos. He executes anyone who displeases him. He must like you.” She withdrew to her cot, her smile growing as her gaze wandered over Niko’s attire. “You don’t seem his type,” Josephine said.