The thing about holding his liquor, Aidon had learned, was that he was fairly terrible at it.
Sure, nights of revelry in Old Town with Lucas and Clyde had given him a decent tolerance. And their days on the barge, where bottles of sparkling wine were plentiful, had taught him how to pace himself.
But he’d also learned while in the company of his two closest friends that though he could out-gamble the best of them, outdrink them he could not.
He’d had his fair share of hangovers to prove it.
He eyed his full glass of gin warily. It was the third Dauphine had poured. He’d drank the first, wincing against the burn of the liquor in his throat. The second, he’d managed to sip at while surreptitiously dumping most of it into the potted plant beside the couch he was sprawled on.
A third would be trickier to hide.
Dauphine flopped down onto the armchair diagonal from him, her legs kicking over the armrest. She had a lazy grin on her lips, a contented, drunken sigh falling from her.
Or not.
Aidon shifted against the cushions, his elbow digging into the fabric as he propped his head on his hand.
“So,” he said pointedly.
Dauphine arched a brow. “So?”
Aidon laughed into his glass, keeping his lips pressed tight as he pretended to take a sip. “Please,” he scoffed as he faked a rasp from the burn, “I have a younger sister.That,” he motioned toward Dauphine and the door with his glass, wincing as some of the liquor splashed onto the floor, “was a disaster. What happened?”
“He needed clothes—”
Aidon blew a raspberry. Perhaps he was overdoing it, but Dauphine’s eyes crinkled when she laughed, and he hated to admit he enjoyed the sight.
Stay focused, he scolded himself.
“Your flimsy excuse shows how rankled you are,” he observed, raising his glass in mock salute. “You’re typically much smoother.”
Dauphine placed a hand over her. “You’ve noticed me, Your Majesty?” She dropped her head back, her hair skimming the floor as she fanned herself before laying a hand over her forehead—the picture of an overdramatic damsel. “Oh, how Velos shines his favor on me! How did I get so lucky?”
Aidon choked on a laugh. He chased it with a true sip of his drink, letting the burn of the liquor steady him.
Dangerously charming, this mercenary was. It had been some time since Aidon had flirted with the likes of Dauphine. But like she’d said…perhaps he was better with the weapons he knew.
“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh. “Keep your secrets. They’re of no use to me anyway.”
He lay back on the couch, tucking an arm under his head as he stared up at the ceiling. A long silence stretched between them, but Aidon waited it out.
“When was the last time your sister smiled at you?”
His smug grin at his own patience paying off was immediately wiped away by the heaviness of the question as it settled over him. He frowned up at the ceiling, his mind flashing through memories of Josie.
Whenwasthe last time she’d smiled at him?
They hadn’t really spoken in Tala, not with the battle raging around them. And it certainly hadn’t been any of their interactions in Milsaio.
I am your fucking king.
His cheeks burned with shame as he remembered his outburst. Some king he was. Some brother, too.
“I think it might have been the day I signed her inscription paperwork,” Aidon thought aloud.
Dauphine made a curious sound, and Aidon found her frowning at him. “You sent your own sister into your army?”
He grinned. It seemed drastic, he supposed. But not when one knew his sister.
