Kings Rising (Captive Prince 3)

‘How is he?’ He said it into the odd silence, facing Paschal in the light from the torches.

‘Bruising, a broken rib,’ said Paschal. ‘Shock.’

‘No, I meant—’

He broke off. After a long moment, Paschal said, slowly, ‘He is well. The knife wound was clean. He lost a lot of blood but there is no permanent damage. He has healed quickly.’

‘Thank you,’ said Damen. He heard himself continue, ‘I don’t expect—’ He stopped. ‘I know that I betrayed your trust, and lied to you about who I am. I don’t expect you to forgive me for that.’

He could feel the incongruity of the words, falling awkwardly between them. He felt strange, his breathing shallow.

He said, ‘Will he be able to ride tomorrow?’

‘You mean to Marlas?’ said Paschal.

There was a pause.

‘We all do what we have to,’ said Paschal.

Damen said nothing. Paschal continued after a moment.

‘You should prepare yourself, too. It’s only deep in Akielos that you’ll be able to confront the Regent’s plans.’

A cool night breeze passed over his skin. ‘Guion claimed not to know what the Regent plans to do in Akielos.’

Paschal looked at him with his steady brown eyes.

‘Every Veretian knows what the Regent plans to do in Akielos.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Rule,’ said Paschal.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE FIRST MILITARY coalition of Vere and Akielos launched from Fortaine in the morning, after the execution of Makedon’s men. There were very few problems, the public killings having been good for the soldiers’ morale.

They hadn’t been good for Makedon’s morale. Damen watched the general swing himself into the saddle, then tug hard on a rein. Makedon’s men were a line of red cloaks stretching across fully half the length of the column.

The horns sounded. The banners went up. The heralds took up their position. The Akielon herald was to the right, the Veretian herald to the left, their banners carefully matched to be the same height. The Veretian herald was named Hendric and he had very strong arms, because banners were heavy.

Damen and Laurent were to ride alongside one another. Neither one of them had the better horse. Neither one of them had the more expensive armour. Damen was taller, but nothing could be done about that, Hendric had said with an impenetrable expression. Hendric, Damen was learning, had something in common with Laurent, in that it was never a simple matter to tell when he was joking.

He brought his horse alongside Laurent’s at the head of the column. It was a symbol of their unity, the Prince and the King riding side by side, as friends. He kept his eyes on the road.

‘At Marlas, we’ll stay in adjacent chambers,’ said Damen. ‘It’s protocol.’

‘Of course,’ said Laurent, his eyes also on the road.

Laurent showed no sign of distress, and sat upright in the saddle, as though nothing at all had happened to his shoulder. He spoke charmingly to the generals and even made pleasant conversation in response to Nikandros, when Nikandros spoke to him.

‘I hope the injured boy was returned to you safely.’

‘Thank you, he returned with Paschal,’ said Laurent.

For a salve? Damen opened his mouth to say, and didn’t.

Marlas was a day-long ride, and they set a good pace. The air was loud with sound, a line of soldiers, outriders ahead, servants and slaves behind. When the column passed near, the birds took off, a herd of goats fled over the side of the hill.