Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,45

Um, take your time?”

And with that the rest of them rode out, leaving Loth alone with his prince. His prince, who was still staring at the floor, bent in half with his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to keep himself from flying apart. Perhaps he was.

“Quinn,” he said, unsure where to start.

“They’re really dead,” Quinn gritted out. His forehead creased. “I knew, of course I knew. But I hoped... When Doom first locked me up, I used to dream that maybe they’d made it to the lodge, that they’d hidden in the tunnels and escaped. That they were, I don’t know, living on a farm somewhere.” He made a derisive sound. “How stupid am I?”

Loth stepped forward and laid a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Not stupid,” he said. “Just a sixteen-year-old trying to hold on.”

“I’m not sixteen now though, am I? I’ve known they were dead for years. I should be past this.” He heaved a great, shuddery breath, and Loth’s heart clenched.

“Perhaps,” he ventured, “you only thought you knew.”

Grub looked up at him, eyes wet. “Perhaps.”

Loth was assaulted by the desire to hold Quinn close, stroke his hair, and assure him it would all be all fine. He didn’t though. He could tell that Quinn was barely holding himself together right now, that he would fall apart at the slightest hint of kindness, and neither of them were equipped to deal with that. Besides, even he wasn’t a good enough liar to make that sound convincing. Instead, he changed the subject.

“So, given what I now know about you, the question is, do we tell the others?”

Quinn swallowed and straightened up, throwing Loth a grateful look. “I think Ada’s guessed. Dave and Cal won’t care as long as they get paid. Scott though? We don’t tell him. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“And you couldn’t throw him that far, with your tiny arms,” Loth observed.

“That’s because I haven’t been getting my royal porridge with added eel,” Quinn said, the ghost of a smile on his face. “No, Scott can keep bowing and scraping to you, and we tell the others to keep it quiet.”

“Agreed. And it’s not like he’ll figure it out, not if we don’t tell him. He’s dumber than…” he cast about for an example. “... than Dave.”

Quinn’s nose crinkled, and his smile turned into something more genuine. “I wonder, how far do you think Dave could throw Scott?”

“We should try and find out,” Loth grinned. “If nothing else, it’d be entertaining to watch.”

Quinn nodded. “And just think,” he said. “It’ll be marvellous in the ballads.”

Loth laughed quietly. “It will, won’t it? Now, come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Quinn nodded and checked their horse’s tack.

Before they left the stables, Loth caught Quinn’s wrist. “The things I said, about all royalty being bastards…”

Quinn shrugged. “You weren’t to know.”

“So... no hard feelings?” Loth didn’t care about royalty or politics, but he was coming to realise that he did care about Quinn. It was most disconcerting.

“No hard feelings.”

“And the whole sex thing? You’re not angry that I took advantage? Because in my defence, I didn’t know I was despoiling a prince.”

Quinn stepped forward and pulled him close, pressing their lips together. “No,” he said between kisses, “but I did. And I really rather liked being despoiled by you. Maybe we could do it again.”

And then he slapped Loth’s arse, patted the saddle, and gave Loth a distinctly lecherous look as he asked, “So, shall we ride?”

Loth was just about to answer when, from the vicinity of the dark stalls, someone cleared their throat. He turned, his heart racing, as a man stepped out of the shadows.

Chapter Eleven

The men who stepped out of the shadows and into the silvery moonlight didn’t look terrifying, but Loth was immediately aware of how Quinn froze at his side like a rabbit under the gaze of a hungry wolf.

The man stepped closer, straw crunching under his boots. He had a sword in his belt, but his hands, when he held up his palms, were empty.

“Your Grace,” he said, and his gaze fell unerringly on Quinn. He was a man of medium height and middle years. There were crow’s feet around his eyes, and wrinkles at the corners of his mouth, as though he laughed a lot. He wasn’t laughing now. He had hair that might have been blond once, but was greying now. His eyes were pale in the moonlight. “You’re not supposed to be