Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,44

point. This little redheaded arsehole had a point. He had told Loth the truth. Loth just hadn’t believed it until now. Because Loth was an inveterate liar who would say anything if it was to his advantage, and he’d assumed that Grub-Cue-whatever-he-was-called, was the same. Turned out he was wrong.

Cue was right about one thing, though. Now wasn’t the time. There was the sound of boots tromping around in the kitchen, and Loth knew it was only a matter of time before it occurred to the soldiers to open the pantry. He followed Tarquin down the stairs, pulling the hidden door shut behind them, and hoped to the gods they didn’t spot Calarian’s half-eaten jar of onions and look any further.

The passageway was filled with cobwebs and dust. Loth pulled his scarf over his face to shield him from the worst of it as they surged forward. All the while his brain chanted ‘the prince is alive, the prince is alive, the prince is alive.’ No matter how he phrased it, the knowledge was overwhelming. It was followed with an increasingly hysterical answering refrain of Oh shit, I fucked the prince.

The trip through the tunnel was mostly silent—in part because nobody wanted a mouth full of cobwebs, but mainly because they didn’t have the breath to waste on talking. The tunnel twisted and turned until Loth had no idea which way they were heading, which he supposed was the point. After about half an hour he risked a mouthful of dirt to ask, “Where does this come out?”

“Near the tavern,” the prince said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to retrieve the horses.”

Several twists and turns later, they came to a set of steep stairs with a trapdoor at the top. Ada clambered up the stairs and hissed, “It’s stuck!”

Well. Fuck. Of course it was. Loth wasn’t going to die in battle after all. He was going to suffocate in an underground tunnel while eye to eye with the crown prince, who he’d fucked—

“Got it,” Dave called cheerfully. “Jus’ needed a nudge.”

Loth looked up to see that Dave had, indeed given the door a nudge—if ripping it off its hinges could be considered a nudge. Regardless, he could see the night sky and freedom. Before any of them moved though, he asked, “Cal?”

Calarian closed his eyes. “It’s clear,” he reported.

Dave pushed through the opening, dragging himself over the edge, then extended a hand down and helped Ada out. Calarian followed, and then Scott, who teetered on the edge for a moment before managing to haul himself up. Loth didn’t think he imagined Calarian’s look of disappointment when he didn’t fall. He and Quinn looked at each other.

“After you?” Loth indicated the steps, suddenly uncertain about everything, because Quinn was royalty, and gods, the things Loth had said, the way he’d sneered... he wouldn’t be surprised if Quinn handed him straight over to the hangman for treason once he was back on the throne

Quinn just nodded curtly and then he was gone, up the ladder and over the top. Loth followed fast on his heels, just in case Quinn decided to slam the top shut and trap him there as revenge for all the terrible things he’d said about the royal family.

They snuck through the woods quietly, with Calarian leading since he had both night vision and a sense of direction. When they arrived back at the tavern, Loth was relieved to see that their horses were still there. He’d been worried that the soldiers would have released them—it’s what he would have done—but apparently catching the escaped prisoners had taken priority.

Calarian, Ada, Scott and Dave saddled up, and when Scott asked, “Are you coming, Your Grace?” it took Loth a second to realize that Scott was talking to him because of course, the others didn’t know. They still thought he was someone worth rescuing.

He looked at Quinn and knew immediately that something was amiss by the way he was staring fixedly into space, drawing shallow breaths. “We’re right behind you. We just need a moment alone,” he said.

Ada snorted. Scott looked concerned, and Calarian made an obscene gesture involving his hand and cheek that said he had no doubt what they were doing. Dave was oblivious.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Scott asked, which was possibly the first time he’d asked an intelligent question since Loth had met him.

Calarian leaned over and whispered in Scott’s ear, and Scott blushed bright red.

“Oh! We’ll wait up the road a bit then, Your Grace.