Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,49

dawn, and then, just as the light was beginning to gently snuff out the starlight, they turned the horses off the road and followed a path into the trees. The trees were sparse here, which worried Loth a little, but on the other side of them they found some fields fenced in with hedgerows. Dave barrelled right through one, leaving a space big enough to draw the horses in after him, and so they set up a camp of sorts behind the tall hedgerow, and out of sight of the road.

They were sharing the field with an unhappy looking cow and a couple of hairy goats. Whatever the field was usually used for—and the furrows in the ground suggested it had been ploughed at some point—it appeared it was fallow for now.

“Who wants some milk?” Dave asked, setting out after the cow with a cup in his hand and a determined gleam in his eye.

It was... nice. Loth lay on the grass with Quinn and watched him sleep. Sunlight dappled his pale face and illuminated the faintest hint of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Loth hadn’t noticed them before now. Angel kisses. Loth plucked a dandelion from the grass and tucked it into Quinn’s hair. Quinn’s nose wrinkled, but he didn’t wake.

Loth’s stomach rumbled, and he thought regretfully of all those pickled onions and herring back at the manor house. Not his first choice for a hearty breakfast, but better than literally nothing.

Calarian wandered along and suddenly stooped to pluck the dandelion from Quinn’s hair.

“Hey!” Loth complained.

“I’m making dandelion soup, but if you’d rather go hungry because you’re decorating your boy here, that’s your choice.”

“We could eat a goat,” Ada suggested.

“Oh, yes, a goat!” Calarian exclaimed. “Let’s not only impoverish some poor peasant farmer already oppressed by the state, but let’s also kill and slaughter a breathing, feeling animal, Ada! Let’s do that!”

He stalked away.

“I don’t think we’re having goat,” Loth murmured.

Ada grumbled into her beard.

“We could eat these potatoes,” Dave said, walking over and dragging the remains of a long, straggly plant behind him.

“That’s not a potato, Dave,” Loth sighed.

Dave held the plant up, displaying the whitish round objects hanging from its roots. “Yes, it is. Potatoes hide inna dirt, they do. My mum showed me how to find ’em. Fallow fields always have leavings.”

“As a prince I could hardly be expected to know that, but well done, Dave!” Loth cheered up at the thought of freshly cooked potatoes. They weren’t very exciting, but what they were, was filling, and for now, in the absence of goat, he’d take it.

Quinn squirmed in his sleep and Loth glanced down fondly. He was fond of Quinn, as strange as that was for him. He looked up to find Ada watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

Ada shrugged. “You don’t see many noblemen take such tender care of their servants, is all, Your Grace.”

“Well, being in a cell for the last four years has changed my perspective, somewhat. I’ve learned to think more about the little people.”

Ada grinned. “Five.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been in a cell for five years.”

“Of course,” Loth said, refusing to flinch under her knowing look. “Five years.”

“We’ll talk later, you said.” Ada reached out and punched him on the shoulder and then climbed to her feet. “I’m going to look for more potatoes.”

“Great idea,” Loth said. He figured he should help or something, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to get up. It was just too nice lying in the sun with Quinn. So he closed his eyes and fell asleep instead.

Chapter Twelve

Loth was woken by Scott prodding at him. Having slept exactly long enough to feel like shit, he blinked blearily and scowled before hauling himself into a sitting position.

“What?” he snapped.

Scott had woken him at the very best part of a dream, one involving dirty alchemists and Quinn and a feather mattress. Now he’d never know how it ended.

Not until they got somewhere with a mattress, anyway.

“Breakfast, Your Grace,” Scott held out a plate, and the aroma of baked potato soothed Loth’s ire. Quinn was already awake, his own plate in front of him and a face full of potato, and if Scott hadn’t woken him, Loth suspected the obscene noises Quinn was making as he ate would have.

Loth leaned over, gave Quinn a gentle shove, and nodded at his plate. “Should I be jealous?”

Quinn stopped eating just long enough to poke his tongue out and then went back to his meagre feast.

“That’s no way to act around