Not waiting for an answer from the Bellringe’s newest sycophant, the king descended the steps at a speedy clip, and greeted his newest good fortune in the castle’s glittering courtyard. The walls were icy white, sheer and smooth, while the courtyard proper held the greenest grass in all of the Sand and Sky. The contrast in color was striking under the high blue of the sky, the marble fountain in the center trickling as merrily as any cool mountain stream.
The Pyrenee party lined up before him in their sweat-stained aubergine, chins held high with triumph as they presented the crates of Taillefer’s vials. The party leader, Second Captain Zabrin, marched the two notable captives forward. The rope binding them appeared excessive but considering the worth of these two to the hearts and ambitions of a certain ruler and her love, Renard appreciated the care taken.
The soldier knocked them so that they had no choice but to meet the king on their knees. Held tight in their bindings, they were forced to look up at Renard’s face.
“As you requested, we have captured both the bounty and the messenger,” Zabrin nodded to Ferdinand, then turned his attention to the Runaway Queen, “but also the former Warlord as well.”
“CurrentWarlord, thank you,” Geneva snapped, teeth bared, eyes fierce, dark hair whirling around at her declaration.
Renard had been but a babe when she’d been at King Sendoa’s sideand, therefore, couldn’t recall ever having seen Geneva in person. But in that moment, he recognized everything Amarande was that Sendoa was not. Slight frame tense with strength, delicate features, full mouth—all presented with the attitude of a caged cat.
It was as eerie as it was interesting.
Renard didn’t address his prisoners by name. Instead, he looked to the soldier who led the expedition. “Zabrin, for this feat you have just made full captain. Help yourself to Nikola’s abandoned things.”
The soldier’s lips dropped open, the man shocked for a moment before he caught himself. “It is my honor, my king.”
“Good. Now, Captain Zabrin, please see to it that these prisoners are given thegoldensuite.” He watched the soldier closely to make sure he understood exactly the cell he had in mind. Clearly, he did. “There are no more?”
“We left no survivors on either side, Your Highness.”
Well, that would be a message in itself if the Ardenian party approached through the mountains. Renard accepted this with a tip of his fingers. “The goods to my quarters.”
Zabrin kicked the prisoners to standing, about to haul them on their way to the dungeon, when the rumbling voice of the bastard prince cut into the air.
“I would like to request my own cell.”
Ferdinand didn’t look at Geneva. Instead, he watched the ground with a quiet intensity that reminded Renard very much of Sendoa. Like he could burn a hole in the mountain, march in, and warm his knickers against the fiery heart of the earth.
Interesting.
Renard nodded to Zabrin to ensure the guard held fast and met Ferdinand eye to eye. “How perceptive of you. Yes, our suite is meant to be shared. I do hope you understand that our dungeons are quite full at the moment and that this is averyspecial accommodation. Had your men survived mine, they would’ve been so crammed into a cell that they’d be trampling each other’s bones in a few days’ time just to ensure position away from the corner latrine. Terrible way to live, especially for an indeterminate amount of time.” Renard smiled, though he didn’t bother to let it meet his eyes. “You are quite fortunate we have the golden suite available.”
Ferdinand shrugged his big shoulders in his bindings and looked away.
“It wouldn’t be prudent for us to share a space,” Geneva offered. Even her voice sounded like Amarande’s. “We could conspire.”
Now this made Renard truly smile. These people—they loved to wear the mantle of bravery but deep down they were cowards unable to look each other in the eye.
“No, you won’t.”
Renard stepped in close enough that he could smell the salt of the sea in Geneva’s hair—unexpected. “You’venot forgiven him for choosing Amarande over you, andhewill likely never forgive you for killing his birth mother. Forgiveness comes about as easily in the Sand and Sky as true love.”
Renard leaned between them, setting a hand upon each of their shoulders, and spoke quietly. “I hope you claw each other apart like cats—it would make things much cleaner for me. However, if you choose to be civil, you may regret it, becausecombined,you are the perfect bait to convince Amarande and her love to do somethingveryrash.”
Ferdinand predictably reacted, the shoulder under Renard’s palm hardening with the same intensity he wielded in his cool green gaze. The boy’s lips did not curl in a smile; instead they were cold and flat, and bore a warning.
“You will regret provoking my queen.”
Renard simply smirked. “I provoke her by breathing. You’re merely her most recent excuse.”
THEbait settled, Renard requested and received two visitors upon his balcony.
The first, the Bellringe’s fastest and most trusted messenger. Taillefer had kept crows in his chambers for correspondence, but Renard did not trust a bird to do a man’s work. Especially with such an important message.
He nearly sent Dunixi, but the king didn’t trust the pirate enough not to make his own deal. Moreover, there was a good chance his former cohort might kill him on sight simply for being on the otherside. Or perhaps to finish what they did not in their daring escape from the wedding.
Alas, he wouldn’t find out and didn’t care.
