Captive Prince: Volume Two (Captive Prince 2)

‘And what about you?’ said Damen, after a difficult breath.

‘I have a highly developed instinct for deception.’

‘No, I meant—’

‘I know what you meant.’

Damen had asked it in an attempt to turn the questioning back on Laurent. Anything to close the doors. Now, after a night of earrings and brothels, he thought: Why not ask him about it? Laurent didn’t look uncomfortable. The lines of his body were relaxed and easy. His soft lips, so often drawn into harder lines, their sensuality suppressed, at this moment expressed nothing more dangerous than mild interest. He had no difficulty returning Damen’s gaze. But he hadn’t given an answer.

‘Shy?’ said Damen.

‘If you want an answer, you’ll need to ask the question,’ said Laurent.

‘Half the men riding in your company are convinced you’re a virgin.’

‘Is that a question?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m twenty years old,’ said Laurent, ‘and I’ve been the recipient of offers almost as long as I can remember.’

‘Is that an answer?’ said Damen.

‘I’m not a virgin,’ said Laurent.

‘I wondered,’ Damen said, carefully, ‘if you reserved your love for women.’

‘No, I—’ Laurent sounded surprised. Then he seemed to realise that his surprise gave something fundamental away, and he looked away with a muttered breath; when he looked back at Damen there was a wry smile on his lips, but he said, steadily, ‘No.’

‘Have I said something to offend you? I didn’t mean—’

‘No. A plausible, benign and uncomplicated theory. Trust you to come up with it.’

‘It’s not my fault that no one in your country can think in a straight line,’ said Damen, frowning a touch defensively.

‘I’ll tell you why Jokaste chose Kastor,’ said Laurent.

Damen looked at the fire. He looked at the log that was half consumed, flames licking the sides and embers at the base.

‘He was a prince,’ said Damen. ‘He was a prince and I was just—’

He couldn’t do this. The muscles across his shoulders were knotted so hard they hurt. The past was coming into focus; he didn’t want to see it. Lying meant facing the truth of not knowing. Not knowing what he had done to provoke betrayal, not once, but twice, from beloved, and brother.

‘That isn’t why. She would have chosen him even if you’d had royal blood in your veins, even if you’d had the same blood as Kastor. You don’t understand the way a mind like that thinks. I do. If I were Jokaste and a king maker, I’d have chosen Kastor over you too.’

‘I suppose you are going to enjoy telling me why,’ said Damen. He felt his hands curl into fists, heard the bitterness in his throat.

‘Because a king maker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control.’

Damen felt the shock of surprise, and looked at Laurent only to find Laurent gazing back at him without rancour. The moment stretched out. It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t what he had expected Laurent to say. As he gazed at Laurent, the words moved through him in unexpected ways, and he felt them touch something jagged-edged within him, felt them shift it a first, tiny fraction, something lodged hard and deep, that he had thought immovable. He said:

‘What makes you think Kastor is the weaker man? You don’t know him.’

‘But I’m coming to know you,’ said Laurent.

CHAPTER 7

Damen sat with his back to the wall, on the bedding that he’d assembled by the hearth. The sounds of the fire had grown infrequent; it had long ago burned down to a last few glowing embers. The room was warmly slumberous and quiet. Damen was wide awake.