When his father retired five years ago, they’d moved to a more modest home in East Ward that was only a block from King’s Square. It might not be the prestigious address they once had, but it was still a very nice home and carried the quiet dignity that his parents demanded.
His father was a firm believer that the people with true power were the ones working behind the scenes. The people who held all the knowledge and made the deals. He’d never been interested in holding public office himself. No, he wanted to be the advisor to all the political leaders, to know their secrets so they could be leveraged at just the right moment.
And part of building that mystique of power and control was creating the illusion of power. Appearances had to be maintained at all times.
Rayne wanted to believe that he was less jaded than his father, and that was largely thanks to Caelan. His prince knew all about the need for secrets and leveraging power over another, but he’d never witnessed Caelan using his position to harm another. It was never for his own benefit, but he worked to protect and help all of his people. Rayne couldn’t say the same for his father.
All the more reason to get them away from his parents’ home as quickly as possible. It might be safe for them, but that didn’t mean the environment wasn’t toxic.
Rayne was left to lean against the ten-foot brick wall that surrounded the property while Eno worked the key into the gate lock. Brisk footsteps echoed in the alley, drawing closer. Rayne palmed a knife and turned in the direction of the sound without thinking. Hot, slicing pain ripped through his knee as he stepped. He started to crumple to the ground, but Eno’s arms were right there, wrapping around him and pulling him safely in.
“Rayne!” Caelan shouted.
His head shot up and relief swamped him to see Caelan and Drayce racing toward them. As Eno got him upright again, Caelan was right there to help support him, worry cutting lines in his young face. They were both drenched and smeared with blood but otherwise appeared to be in one piece.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Caelan demanded.
“Nothing serious. Just my knee. A little rest and I’ll be fine,” Rayne commented, forcing a smile despite the excruciating pain.
Eno looked as if he were about to say something, but there was no need.
“Bullshit,” Caelan snapped. “I’ll fix it once we get inside.”
Rayne glanced over at Drayce, who’d been surprisingly quiet through all of this. He should have at least had some snarky, teasing comment, but the young man stood acting as Caelan’s shadow, watching the alley. A new, heavy tension hummed through him. Something had happened while they were separated, and Rayne was suddenly afraid to ask what had put shadows in Drayce’s green eyes.
Drayce caught him watching and sent a weak smirk in his direction. It was enough. The questions would have to wait until later.
They moved inside the gate and slowly crossed the yard with Eno continuing to support Rayne as he limped along. Halfway to the house, the back door opened and a tall, slender man with snowy white hair stepped out, adjusting the glasses on his face.
“Rayne?” his father called out. “What in the world are you doing here? Who are these people with you?”
It was a real struggle to not sigh with all of his soul. Not a drop of concern for his well-being. No relief that he was seeing his son for the first time in more than a year. Not even happiness in the knowledge that Rayne was still alive after all that had happened.
“Rayne’s been injured, sir,” Eno said in an even tone that held some wonderful warmth and caring. He helped Rayne up the stairs, trying to keep him from putting any weight on his bad knee.
“Yes, but why are you bringing him here? Who are you?”
Rayne nearly rolled his eyes hard enough to pull a muscle. Why, yes, of course, my useless, brainless son is injured. That’s to be expected. Why are you bringing him to me? What use would I have for him? At least that was how his father’s comment sounded in Rayne’s head.
“I’ll explain inside, Father,” Rayne bit out, restraining himself from pushing the man into the house ahead of them. The pain in his leg was shortening his patience, and right now he wanted to just sit.
Stanton Laurent stammered and huffed a bit, but he had no choice as Eno’s larger frame essentially forced him into the house while Caelan and Drayce followed close behind. His father wasn’t really to blame for not recognizing Caelan. They all were drowned rats, covered in dirt and blood and the gods only knew what else.
They passed through a mud room and into a large, spotless kitchen. Did his mother still keep a cook on staff? He couldn’t remember a time ever seeing her cook anything during his lifetime. Boiling water was likely beyond her.