It was an hour’s ride to the villa. To his knowledge, he wasn’t followed. It was fully dark when he arrived, the moon bright in the evening sky.
He jumped off his horse and approached the entrance of the villa. A green-uniformed guard stepped into his path, his ugly mug showing disdain for this boy in red.
“Has the prince arrived back yet? I must see him immediately,” Nic said. “I have a message from the king.”
Not a lie—it was a message. Although it certainly wasn’t one the king would have wanted to arrive ahead of time.
“I can deliver the message,” the guard growled, thrusting out his hand. “Give it to me.”
“It’s too important—too private—to be written down.” Nic crossed his arms. He refused to be intimidated by anyone tonight. “I’m the only one who can relate it.”
The guard’s stern expression quickly turned to boredom, and he relented, allowing Nic inside. A servant showed him out to the same patio in the courtyard where the prince and princess had offered him an alliance, only now the beautiful gardens were in shadows.
Nic began to pace as a thousand thoughts and worries swirled through his mind—thoughts and worries that he hadn’t let himself consider on the rebellion-fueled ride.
It wasn’t long before Prince Ashur appeared at the edge of the garden with a smile on his lips. “Nic. I was just told you’d arrived. What a pleasant surprise. I would have thought you’d be much too busy tonight at the wedding to visit.”
Nic’s mouth went dry, his heart pounding hard as a hammer. “I am busy, but I wanted—no, I needed—to see you.”
“How intriguing.” Ashur glanced at a servant waiting in the doorway. “Bring us something to drink.”
The servant bowed and departed.
“Please sit.” Ashur gestured toward the plush patio seating, the area lit by torches. “The guard told me you have a message from King Gaius?”
“Yes, that’s right . . .” But then his words faltered.
Treason against the crown. That was what he was about to commit.
A treasonous tongue would ensure his execution. Would coming here tonight put Cleo in jeopardy? Had he made a horrible mistake?
Ashur watched him carefully, his expression grave. “I sense being near me makes you uncomfortable, which is why I haven’t mentioned it since, but what happened between us that night in the alleyway . . . I know it was unwelcome. I want to apologize for being so bold.”
Nic didn’t want to talk about that now. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to talk about it. But still, questions rose inside of him, questions that had tormented him since that night that he couldn’t hold back now. There was no time for this, but he couldn’t help but ask it. “Why me? Why would you—I mean, other than to get me to reveal what I know about Cleo . . . I get that. It’s not uncommon around here for someone to do whatever it takes to get somebody to talk. But did I give you the impression that I wanted . . . ?” He winced and found he couldn’t continue.
This really wasn’t why Nic was there tonight.
He had to focus. He had to decide if he was going to tell Ashur the king’s plans and hope it was the right decision or make up a meaningless message from the king and get out of there as quickly as he could before someone at the palace noticed his absence.
More guards were probably already on their way.
“I shouldn’t have brought this up,” Ashur said, his expression strained. “There’s no reason for you to feel uncomfortable around me. I mean you no harm.”
Nic groaned, his storming emotions in turmoil. “I don’t think you want to harm me. And you’re wrong. I’m not sorry you kissed me.”
“No?”
Damn. Enough of this.
Nic’s cheeks had suddenly grown very warm. He was tired of being timid, fearful, and uncertain. He may have been once, but no longer.
He met Ashur’s gaze directly. “I overheard the king give orders to arrest you and Princess Amara. He believes you’re still at the banquet, but I saw you leave so I came here myself to warn you. He means to detain you in the dungeons indefinitely to prevent your father from launching an armada.”
There, he’d said it.
And now he felt as if he were going to be sick.
“I see.” Ashur leaned back in his chair, seemingly unfazed by the monumental information Nic had just committed treason in order to tell him. “Why would you tell me this?”