“That horse was mine,” he added. “His death should have been mine too. While I was…away, something insidious manipulated its way into my home and my family. It undermines them—us,” he hastily corrected. “Observed as I am, I cannot root out this force without them becoming aware of my interest. That is clearly where you come in.”
“Julian seems proficient. You trust him. Why not ask him to investigate?”
“Julian is” —he glanced toward the closed doors— “helpful where he is.” Vasili held Niko’s gaze, making Niko’s insides turn over, as though the man had an uncanny ability to rifle through his soul and reveal things best left hidden. “You have not been subtle in your hatred of me, but that I can trust. I prefer the enemy I can see to the one behind my back.”
There was an elegance to it, Niko supposed. If Niko wanted the prince dead, it wouldn’t be with a knife in the back. “You clearly have suspicions as to who wants you killed.”
He chuckled dryly. “My return was unexpected. Many in my family would prefer I did not return at all. The palace, its people, it’s all changed. And I see from your eyes that we finally agree on something.”
Niko straightened in the chair. He’d always thought himself careful with his expressions, but Vasili’s gaze had the unnerving ability to strip Niko’s guard. “What makes you think you can trust me for this task?”
“I don’t trust you,” the prince said, as though that answered the question. Perhaps it did, but only by opening up more questions.
This man was like none Niko had ever met before. He claimed to be hunted, and yet he didn’t look like a man afraid. If anything, he was the only person Niko had met who wasn’t afraid. He reminded him of a fox among chickens. The kind that didn’t kill to eat. It killed because it could. Niko knew killers too. He’d commanded many of them. This Caville prince was the kind who enjoyed the killing a little too much.
Niko shifted in the seat, briefly averting his eyes. “And at the end of all this?”
“You may leave,” Vasili said, tone flat. “Rebuild your blacksmith’s shop, forge a new life.”
And how did the prince know his family’s blacksmith’s shop needed rebuilding? Coincidence, as most trades from outlying villages had ceased during wartime, or something more?
“Pah’s shop was at the heart of Trenlake.” The village name had the desired effect of making the prince’s brow tighten. “The elves burned it down in the massacre, got right up to Loreen’s gates. Killed everyone, including my parents.”
The prince winced again and turned his face away. “Julian,” he called.
The door promptly flew open.
“I wasn’t there to protect them.” Niko stood. “The elves hung them from trees. They weren’t dead when they were strung up. Death never comes easy for their victims.” The prince still faced away. The thin skin over his pulse fluttered lightly in his neck, and Niko found he wanted to twist the blade some more, make the man hear the horrors of war, make him see them.
Julian reached for his arm and Niko snatched it away. “You’d know that if you’d been here instead of hiding wherever your father had you holed up for safekeeping.”
Vasili tore from the chair and lunged for the window. He braced an arm against the frame and bowed his head. “Take him away.” His shoulders heaved, breaths coming fast.
Was it shame that made him turn his face away? Shame that he’d run from the war like the coward he was, while his people had fought for the griffin and died by the thousands.
Satisfied he’d done enough, Niko relented and left with Julian.
They walked two doors down from the prince’s chambers. Julian shoved him inside and slammed the door behind them. “You need to learn to hold your tongue.” The man’s cheek twitched. “This is where you will sleep from now on. By all means, admire the view from the window. We’re in one of the highest towers. Don’t jump. You’ll sleep on the lounger. The bed is mine.”
The room was similar to Vasili’s, if smaller, with an interconnecting door that possibly led through a second chamber and eventually to the prince’s room. “This is your room?”
“It is. Vasili wanted to keep you with the other doulos to see what shook free since your last encounter was so fruitful. I suggested that may not be the most efficient use of your skills and offered to accommodate you here. You’re welcome.”
“How was my last encounter fruitful when I almost killed a man?”
“Multiple witnesses stated the man, a new doulos, tried to kill you, unprovoked, in your sleep.”
“He did….“ Niko drifted about the room. There were no weapons, at least none of the obvious kind. Minimal, neat, impersonal. This room either hadn’t been Julian’s for long, or he preferred to keep all personal items hidden out of sight. Probably to stop Vasili using them as ammunition. “I hadn’t been sure at first. The dreams make it—” He cut himself off and reached a dresser mirror, only to find Julian’s reflection watching him closely.
“Someone took a dislike to Vasili having a personal slave and decided to remove you,” Julian said. “It could be connected to Carlo’s death. We don’t know. Doulos, by their nature, are feisty with each other.”
“If Vasili knew I was attacked, why did he have me publicly flogged?” His back itched and ached at the recent trauma.
“For appearances. Most doulas are broken in early on so they know their place. He was lenient.”
Acrid hate burned on Niko’s tongue. These people, they were a different breed. The killer, whoever they were, had the right idea in attacking the prince. Maybe Niko would find them and help them eliminate all the royals. What a thought that was. From soldier to assassin. But the idea didn’t sit well with him. He had more honor than that. The Cavilles weren’t worth his loyalty, but the innocent people of Loreen were. “Did you fight in the war, Julian?”
“I did,” the man said, surprising Niko. He didn’t have the hard eyes of those who had survived.
“Where?”
“Carlion Gap.”
Niko turned and reassessed the man standing before him. He was well-built with enough muscle to make him a proficient warrior, but something didn’t feel right. The Carlion Gap was one of the first border locations to fall to the elves. Loreen’s forces hadn’t been prepared. Nothing could have prepared them for the elves. He studied Julian again, stepping closer, and noticed the gloves. He’d been wearing them from the moment they’d met in the pleasure house, and though Julian was in a more comfortable uniform, the gloves stayed.
Elves often took more trophies than hearts.
“You escaped them?” Niko asked.
Julian worked his jaw and sighed. “I try not to think about it.”
“I’m grateful for your service, even if the Cavilles are not.”
Julian nodded and half-gestured at the room. “Don’t touch my shit.”
“Fair enough.” Niko smiled.
“And don’t get any ideas about fleeing,” Julian added, dropping into a chair to unlace his boots. He used a thumb and finger, but the remaining gloved fingers stayed rigid. “I’ll have to chase you down, and neither of us wants that.” He pulled the boot free, then added the second and neatly set them aside.