Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,63

said at last.

“It’s stifling,” Loth said, and then sighed and reconsidered. “Well, it felt that way when I was a teenager, just bursting to get outside and into trouble, but even when I managed it, my parents knew exactly what I’d been up to. I swear my mother has a network of spies in the city that would rival anything Lord Doom could come up with.”

Quinn huffed out an amused breath.

“But my parents?” Loth felt his chest ache, aware that he was driving a knife into Quinn’s heart, even if Quinn wanted him to. “I love them, and they love me. I don’t think there’s anything I could ever do that would mean they’d ever shut the front door in my face. And I have done some spectacularly stupid things, believe me.”

“Oh, I do.” Quinn’s quick grin was sharp. “You don’t need to convince me at all. Minstrels, wasn’t it?”

“Excuse you, I have undiscovered musical talent just waiting to burst out of me.” Loth pressed his mouth to the shell of Quinn’s ear. “I mean, I’m no Dave, but I can hold a tune.”

“That actually puts you ahead of Dave,” Quinn said. “But don’t tell him I said that. I’m sure he’s very musical, for an orc.”

“And his lyrics are certainly memorable,” Loth mused. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget Scott got trapped when he was taking a crap.”

Quinn laughed softly before trailing off. Pie flitted over to the fireplace and scrabbled in the embers. Quinn watched him intently, his mouth opening and closing several times.

“I’m scared,” he finally said, and he sounded so young when he said it that Loth felt his heart clench.

“Me too,” Loth admitted, “but just this once, I thought I’d do the decent thing. The right thing. You know, see what all the fuss is about.”

Quinn hummed in reply, leaning back further into his touch, and Loth’s arms tightened imperceptibly around his waist as if that could somehow protect them from the coming day.

“So,” Dad asked, “What’s the plan?”

The sunlight glinted in the window as the band of rescuers sat around the table, squinting in the light. None of them were morning people. Only Calarian looked alert and perfectly put-together, but that had more to do with genetics than the time of day, Loth figured. He hoped it wasn’t just Calarian’s vegetarian diet, because, if it was, Loth was vain enough to consider it, and he knew his tastebuds would hate him for it.

Dad was dishing out breakfast; thick bread topped with fresh honey, scrambled eggs and slabs of fried ham, and mushrooms for Calarian. They might be riding to their doom—ha!—but they were riding with full stomachs if Dad had anything to do with it.

“We have a way in,” Loth said, and then he stopped, because really, that was as far as their planning had gone. Once they were inside, then what?

Dad raised his eyebrows. “Apologies, Your Grace, but it sounds like you're expecting to walk in, demand the crown and hope for the best. And if that’s the case, I may as well just stab you now and save everyone the trouble.”

“Lord Doom would probably reward us,” Mum said from her seat by the fire, where she’d been polishing Pie’s scales till they gleamed. “He might even appoint us the royal brewers for our service.”

Scott leapt to his feet. “You can’t kill the prince!” he shouted, except he tripped as he stood, and he had a mouthful of bread and honey, so it came more like “ooo an’t ill thprince,” which spoiled the dramatic effect somewhat.

Calarian swatted at him. “Shut up. They’re not killing anyone. They’re making a point, that’s all. And they’re right. We do need a plan.” He got a distant look in his eye. “How would this play out if it was Houses and Humans? Does anyone have any dice?”

Ada rolled her eyes.

“There’s two of them,” Dave said unexpectedly. “Princes. But I’m still Dave.”

At his mum’s questioning look, Loth explained. “Scott was hired to rescue the prince, but the only description he got was that the prince had red hair. Quinn was sharing my cell and claimed to be the prince to escape. They decided to take us both since it’s been so long that nobody knows what the prince looks like, even though it’s obviously me.” He wilted a little under Mum’s stare. “Obviously.”

“So, Lord Doom doesn’t know what you look like either?” his father asked, drumming his fingers on the tabletop in a gesture Loth