The stranger’s foot punted everything behind him. “Got any more accessories?”
I interrupted before the knight did something foolish like tell the truth. “What do you want from us?”
“Did you hear about me and decide to come sniffing around? Digging into my business isn’t how I work. You wait formeto come toyou.”
“Digging for what?”
“Tell me how you know me,” the stranger threatened.
“We do not,” Aire gritted.
“Though from your charming disposition, it looks like we’re missing out,” I remarked. “Are you a squatter?”
“What if I am?” the stranger volleyed. “Ain’t no laws against that.”
“But there are laws against abduction and murder,” the First Knight seethed. “You’re harboring a Royal of this nation. The son of Her Highness and the Court Jester of Autumn, and heir to Her Majesty the Queen.”
“Right. And I’m the long lost prince from the Kingdom of Fuck You.”
My fingers itched to decapitate this son of a bitch. What’s more, I would have rammed my knuckles into Aire’s face for dishing out Nicu’s identity when we were supposed to be inconspicuous. Except the knight had that intuitive glint in his pupils, which meant he’d gotten distinct vibes from this weasel, which also meant Aire’s strategy was intentional.
I had an inkling of why and played along. “You’re not the reason we came here. I’m a world-weary pirate who’s decided to retire and live the rest of her days in the pursuit of discovery instead of stolen riches. In other words, I’m on a pilgrimage to explore this legendary enclave, my Royal friend has reached a rebellious stage and wanted to tag along, and his grizzly bear bodyguard suffers from a hero complex, so he vowed to make sure neither of us got butchered along the way. If I were you, I’d be careful; sudden movements upset this soldier, which tends to cost people their livers. I assume you don’t want to get mauled?”
The rogue growled like a mongrel detecting bullshit. “How many of your admirers actually get off on that cute bedtime story?”
“Fair. The retired pirate bit might have been improvisation.”
Not my best effort under pressure, but that hadn’t been the point. I’d given him a tale that was ninety percent genuine, ten percent fiction. That ratio masked lies with intrigue. Oftentimes, people hungry for diversions chose the elaborate falsehood over the basic truth, which meant this stranger ranked low on the gullibility scale, which also meant we needed to tread carefully.
Aire strode forward while spreading his arms to illustrate compliance. Yet another few steps, and the stranger would be in slaughtering range of the knight’s bare hands. “Once given the chance, I shall lead the Crown to you. But let us reside here without conflict, and I’ll revoke that promise.”
The pissant shrugged as if he’d invented that gesture. “Not a concern. My business is legit.”
“Then we’ll do this the preferable way. Comply, and I won’t drive a spare weapon through your skull. You have my word.”
“Guess that’s supposed to mean something. I’m thinking, this is the deal: You tell me who you really are, what you really want, and you leave me out of it. Fuck off on your merry way, and I won’t slit this pretty boy’s throat. He’s got a sweet pulse, see?”
Nicu’s eyes narrowed in thought, then slanted his head toward his captor. “You conjure smoke and mirrors, but those things don’t last. Draw my blood, and you’ll be the one to dry up and disappear.”
The squatter blinked. Unlike our clan, most people had difficulty comprehending Nicu’s artful rhetoric. As a result, any bloke within a fifty-mile radius wouldn’t grasp what he just said.
Yet the stranger chewed on those words, giving them ample thought as if he understood Nicu just fine. Intrigued, he slithered around my friend. The blade’s needle point followed, grazing the surface of Nicu’s throat.
Nicu stared back. Without flinching, he raised his chin like another Royal I knew and loved.
I clicked my gaze to Aire’s thunderous profile. While keeping his attention on the pair, the knight reached behind, extending his hand toward whatever final, undisclosed weapon he’d stashed.
My hatchet rested on the grass. I could reach it if I dove.
The stranger raked over my friend’s prominent features. “You’re a born soul.”
“Is that a problem?” Nicu demanded, his tenor lowering to a hiss.
That tone of voice, I’d never heard him use before. But the stranger appeared to like it, amusement creasing the upper half of his face. “Green eyes. Faeish face. Musical voice. I’ve heard about those details. Yeah, you’re the Royal Son all right. Why didn’t you say so?”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I heard it,” he murmured.
