Page 72 of The Queen's Line

Font Size:

Page 72 of The Queen's Line

"Apolo—"

"Are you my Chosen, Daniel Farraque?" Princess Bryony asked, eyes narrowing to slits.

"No, Your Highness," I said, quick to drop my hands to my side, all the purr I'd tried to gather in my voice fading away to flat.

Bryony took a small fraction of the offered space, the sabre tip digging just enough for me to feel the heat of pain. "Have I requested your attention in some way?"

"No, Your Highness."

"If you touch me again without my express demand, I will cut your hands off and courier them myself to Lord Roderick, do you understand?"

I understood, but my cock didn't because it jumped with a horribly timed interest and nudged against the princess's waist.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Leave the room," Bryony said, almost a growl, as she stepped back from me.

I made my exit quickly, and with a strange thrill coursing through my veins that had nothing to do with my hands still being attached to my arms.

The door was cracked open when I reached it, and the guard outside was smirking.

* * *

I'd beento Rumsbrooke often enough, although it wasn't a place one generally looked forward to visiting. The people were unfriendly and guarded, the streets were filthy, the buildings were decrepit, and I always left feeling as though I was covered in a thin but invisible layer of grime.

It'd been months since my last visit, and I took a deep breath of the moderately fresh air before approaching the gate. Except the city inside wasn't quite what I expected. It was still dirty, still close, still crowded, but the people seemed busy now and…

"Oh, excuse me, sir," one young girl cried before dashing through the street, grinning and giggling as she reached her friends on the other side. And no one cursed after her.

Not everyone was in high spirits, but tempers seemed a little brighter than usual, and there wasn't half the trash and refuse lying about that there usually seemed to be. I nudged my horse forward, waiting for the city I remembered and notquitefinding it. I glanced up at the sky and decided to blame the sun being out, which it almost never seemed to be in Rumsbrooke. Maybe I had only ever been here during bad weather.

I reached the Yawning Pig and guided my horse to a stand, finding a small boy sitting under an awning nearby.

"Coin to watch the horse," I called, rousing him from his nap and pulling a coin from my pocket. "I'm a friend of Emory, and there'll be more coin if you don't swindle me."

"You're the new palace steward," the boy said, eyes widening.

Hmm, I hadn't expected that particular news to spread so easily or swiftly. "I am."

"What's she like? My friend Asher says he'd seen her, but I don't believe him. Is she really so pretty?"

Bryony, eyes dark and teeth gritted with her sword to my throat flashed in my mind. "Can barely look at her and remember to speak," I said. "The guards say she can make flowers bloom just by walking by, but I haven't seen it yet."

The boy mouthed amazement and pocketed my coin as I left him by my horse and headed for the entrance.

The Yawning Pig really only came to life at night, lit up by candles and lanterns, full of whores and men who could barely pay for a kiss on the cheek, let alone the full service. By daylight, it was an odd kind of space, with an empty stage that looked like the yawning maw of an enormous pig, and a bar that I could usually help myself to without anyone being the wiser.

Today there were two men seated, drinking from foggy glasses.

Jonathon Roderick and Emory…who the hell knew the man's last name, if he even had one.

"You've started without me," I said, moving to join them and shaking my head at the offered bottle. I didn't like alcohol, for myself or for most men. The indulgence only seemed to bring out ugliness, even in smaller doses, and larger ones made it a poisonous habit.

"How go your efforts with Her Highness?" Jonathon asked as I helped myself to a barstool.

"Your father didn't give me an easy start of it. It's obvious there's hard feelings for the council."And apparently, sword fighting isn't a way into the woman's bed.

"Of course there are, that's why we've put you in the position," Jonathon scoffed.




Top Books !
More Top Books

Treanding Books !
More Treanding Books