Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,59
rode down the hill towards the house at the bottom, the place he’d grown up: the house right beside his mother’s brewery.
They rode into the courtyard in front of the house and dismounted, and Loth pulled Quinn close and murmured, “Follow my lead,” before knocking on the door in the distinctive two-three-two rhythm that he always used.
There was the sound of voices and then the door flew open, and his mum was standing there, beaming. “Son!” she said, surging forward, arms wide.
Loth sidestepped neatly and gave a shove, sending Quinn flying into her arms. By the time either of them realised what was happening, they were already locked in a hug. Loth’s father looked over his wife’s shoulder, eyebrows raised. Loth gave a tiny shrug, and at that, his dad stepped forward and slapped a meaty palm on Quinn’s shoulder. “So good to see you my boy!” he said loudly, and Loth breathed a tiny sigh of relief.
Quinn twisted his head to stare back at Loth, and the gaze he sent was half confusion, half utter panic, with a dash of something much more fragile underneath it all.
Loth cleared his throat. “May we come in? We’re in dire need of somewhere to stay, and Quinn said his family would be willing to help.”
His mother had by now registered that the body she was embracing wasn’t the one she was expecting. But that didn’t stop her holding on tight, only raising her chin to ask, “And you are?” with a gleam in her eye that Loth knew meant she’d play along.
“Mum,” Quinn said, his voice shaking only the slightest bit on the word, “we’ve rescued the prince. Can we come inside, and we’ll explain?” He glanced around. “It’s not exactly safe out here.”
Mum’s jaw dropped, but she rallied quickly. “Rescued the prince, hmm?” she asked. She pressed a kiss to the top of Quinn’s head. “I had my money on minstrels, to be honest. Joined them, slighted them, stolen from them. It’s always you and minstrels, isn’t it, dear?”
“Um,” Quinn said, the inflection in his voice making it sound like a question. “Not this time?”
“Well,” Mum said. “I suppose that’s what they call personal growth. Come inside then, all of you, and let me get a good look at you.”
She dragged Quinn inside and Dad held the door open as everyone trooped in after them. Loth was last inside and got the full effect of Dad’s raised eyebrow stare. He met Dad’s gaze with a tilt of his chin that he hoped conveyed trust me, and it must have come close because Dad let out a sigh and closed the door before asking “So, which one of you is the prince, then?”
Loth cleared his throat, but before he could say anything Scott stepped forward. “I’m the one who bravely rescued him and led the party to freedom and victory. May I present your Graceness, Prince Tarquin of... um... anyway, the prince!” he said with a flourish and bowed down so deeply in front of Loth that his nose almost scraped the ground.
“Tarquin of um,” Dad said, his one cocked eyebrow almost vanishing into his thinning, grey hair.
Loth lifted his chin and attempted to look regal. He wasn’t sure he pulled it off.
“Well, what an honour.” Dad sounded about as honoured as if he’d stepped in dog shit. “Did you hear that, love? It’s Prince Tarquin of Um. Under our humble roof.”
Mum was bustling Quinn toward the kitchen. “Well, make sure he wipes his feet, same as everyone else.” She tutted at Quinn. “You’ve gotten so thin, son! And you’re a mess.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a large handkerchief and Loth knew, just knew what was coming. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry when his mum spit on the hanky and rubbed at the dirt on the cheek of Tarquin, Crown Prince of Aguillon, rightful heir to the throne.
Quinn screwed up his face as she scrubbed.
“That’s better, love,” Mum cooed, and Loth recognised that look. His mum had decided to take Quinn under her wing. She’d always been weak for a lost cause—Loth supposed it was second nature, with him as a son.
He caught a glimpse of the look on Quinn’s face as Mum tugged him further into the house—that same one where confusion battled with heartbreak. When was the last time Quinn had a mum to fuss over him? Loth might have been a grown man, but he’d still put up with all the