Shit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A slow smile creeps across his face. Never a good sign. “I knew you wanted to fuck her, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You couldn’t care less about her powers. You just want to keep her for yourself.”
“Don’t be—”
“Don’t lie to your king, Aemon,” he says, punctuating each word with a jab to my chest.
He’s purposely trying to rile me, and it’s working. My gods damned blood is boiling in my veins, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to not grab that finger and rip it off. If he were anyone else, it would have already happened, but he’s the king and can quite literally have me killed anytime he chooses, so I’m going to keep those feelings close to the vest… For now.
Troi scrubs at the newly grown bristles on his chin. “I’ll give you, she’s nice to look at, but you know what I think?” He wags a fingerat me and starts back up the steps. “I think you saw what she did to that guard and felt yourself getting all excited.” He flops onto his throne and throws a leg over one arm, grinning at me like a madman.
In truth, he isn’t too far off the mark, though I’d noticed her way before then. But if that’s what will get him to let me go after her, then I’m more than willing to comply. “It’s pretty impressive, though,” I say with a smirk and shrug. “I like a girl with a little fight in her.”
“Well, I need you here with me,” he says waving a hand dismissively. Bastard had me going for a minute there. I guess I should have known better. “Especially after all that’s happened,” he continues. “Who else can I trust to keep me safe?” He bats his lashes, feigning innocence and doing a shit job of it.
“I’m sure you’ll make do—”
“Do not,” he shouts, his temper leaking through that smug exterior, “argue with me. I am your king.”
Yet he feels the need to constantly remind me of that fact.
“And you will do as I say.”
And now he sounds like a four-year-old.“Of course. My apologies, your highness.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he begins, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. “I’ll send Fredrick after her. He lost the girl. He should be the one to retrieve her.”
“But your highness—”
“My decision is final.” He waves me away.
Fucking asshole. He’s doing this just to spite me. “Your highness,” I reply, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of my voice. I bow and start for the door.
“And Aemon,” he calls after me.
I stop short and pivot around. “Yes, your highness.”
“Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you keep her, hmm?”
I bite my tongue against the expletives I want to hurl his way. “Thank you, your highness.” I spin back around and do my best not to stomp out the door like a fucking child.
The man gets me so damned infuriated. It’s amazing I didn’t slit his throat years ago. If he thinks I’m going to let Fredrick go after Katya so the sadistic son of a witch can torture her at his leisure, Troi’s sorely mistaken. Once I’m out of the king’s sight, I break into a jog. I crash through the door to my quarters, stupidly taking my frustration out on the piece of wood. It’s a testament to how distracted I am that I don’t even notice the figure standing in the corner until I’m practically on top of her. My training takes hold, and in an instant, I’ve got her arms pinned and my knife to her throat.
“Good to see you too, Aemon,” Elsbeth says, her back shaking with barely contained laughter. I swear the woman has no fear.
I shove her away and fit my knife back into my belt. “One of these days, I’m going to accidentally slit your throat. Then we’ll see who’s laughing.”
“That would be most unfortunate,” she says with a knowing smile. “I rather like my throat un-slit.”
I shake my head. Women are the strangest creatures. “What do you want, Elsbeth?” I ask, impatience leaking into my voice. I stomp past her, throw open the doors on the armoire, grab my saddlebags off the hook and toss them on my bed.
“I heard you lost the girl, Katya.”
“I don’t know that I’d call it lost.” I cross to the dresser and snatch up a couple changes of clothing, paying little attention to what I’m grabbing, and move back to the bed, where I proceed tostuff them in my bags. “She killed one guard, got past another, and I’m still not sure what she did to Fredrick. Oh…” I pause to look up at her. “He’s still in the interrogation room. You might want to send somebody to get him, eventually.”
She scoffs. “I am the last person you want to be telling that to. He can rot down there, for all I care.”
My sentiments exactly.
