Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,12

his scraggly goatee trembled like a scared little woodland creature. His brow furrowed. “It appears the road is in the wrong place, my liege.”

“Must be that faulty map,” Loth said, wondering how long it would be before Scott killed them all. Minutes, probably.

“Yes,” Scott agreed quickly, scurrying away again. “The faulty map.”

Loth swallowed a sigh and looked around at the rescue party. Calarian was sitting in the back of the cart, his long legs dangling, as he sorted through a handful of something that looked like coins, but Loth suspected were tokens from Houses and Humans.

Dave was crouching by the damp firewood, cooing encouragement at Pie as Pie puffed out wisps of smoke in the direction of the potential fire. At this rate, the poor little lizard would die of exhaustion before they ever saw a flame.

Ada was stomping up and down the edge of their sad little campsite, huffing like one of the horses.

And Grub...

Grub was standing quietly, his chin lifted, staring off into the growing darkness. There was enough distance between them that he looked almost like one of Scott’s heroes, and not at all like the scrawny half-starved, bad-tempered little shit that Loth knew he was. He must have felt Loth’s gaze on him—he turned, and his face settled into a familiar scowl, and then he trudged over towards Loth, his hands shoved under his armpits as though he was trying to warm them. Loth almost felt guilty for taking his scarf back.

“Scott tells me that the road is in the wrong place,” he said as Grub approached.

Grub snorted.

Loth levelled a stare at him. “You don’t seem too upset by the fact that we are currently lost in The Wilds.”

Grub shrugged. “We’ll be fine, as long as we avoid the swamp.” His brows drew together thoughtfully. “And, of course, the wolves don’t attack.”

“The what now?”

“The wolves,” Grub said. “They say they can grow as big as horses out here.” He flashed Loth an evil grin. “But I’m sure that’s just a nasty rumour.”

“Well, you’re safe,” Loth said. “You’d be nothing but bone and gristle. They’d only want you as a toothpick.”

Grub lifted a hand and raked his fingers through his hair. It stood up at strange angles, and Loth pushed down the urge to attempt to tame it slightly. What did he care if Grub looked like a manic haystack?

Grub’s gaze found his again. “A fire should keep the wolves away if Pie can start one. Otherwise, my Prince, you’d do well to tell them to set a watch.”

“Hmm.” Loth folded his arms over his chest. “A fire might keep the wolves away, but wouldn’t it attract other predators?”

Grub raised his eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Bandits,” Loth suggested. “Or soldiers of the crown, given both of us are currently fugitives.”

“You think that Ser Greylord would send his men into The Wilds for a pickpocket?” There was something confronting in Grub’s stare.

“I have no idea who that is.”

“The Shire Reeve of Delacourt.”

“I still don’t know who that is,” Loth admitted. “And while I doubt very much the loss of one pickpocket would bother him, there’s still the question of you, isn’t there, Grub? What exactly were you doing in the dungeons of Delacourt, and who put you there?” He exhaled slowly. “Who are you, Grub? You’re no peasant.”

Grub’s brows drew together. “What was it you said back in Delacourt? You asked me if I was the illegitimate spawn of a ranking official.” He shrugged and looked away.

“A hostage, then,” Loth said. “Kept in chains to ensure your father’s compliance.” He stretched. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be glad to have you home if the wolves don’t eat us. Not that you can ever show your face again, can you? Or Lord Doom will snap you right up again. Still, it’ll be better than a dungeon, I suppose.”

War was a messy thing, and so was politics. Loth, like most people who worked for a living, didn’t give two shits about the games that rich men played. It didn't make any difference to him which royal arse was sitting on the throne. The sun still rose every morning.

Still, he snorted. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

Grub was staring into the darkness again. “What is?”

“Lord Doom,” Loth said.

Grub’s brow furrowed.

“Lord Doom,” Loth repeated. “He’s called Lord Doom, he seized power, and nobody ever saw it coming?” He huffed out a laugh. “That’s funny.”

Grub blinked at him. “It’s... it’s actually Lord Dumesny.”

“Huh.” Loth wrinkled his nose. “Oh, well that’s not as funny at all then.”

Dave cheered suddenly,