Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,7
Loth were to start feeling bad just because he took advantage of someone, where would it end? With him unemployed, that’s where—pickpockets didn’t build a successful career on being decent human beings.
And he was successful, the odd arrest notwithstanding. But maybe, he reflected, he could use this to his advantage, take a break from looking over his shoulder with every dip and snatch. His rescuers were, for the most part, thicker than treacle, although he’d have to watch Ada. If he could successfully string them along (and he could, he had no doubt), there was no reason he couldn’t have a nice easy ride to the capital, fed and watered and pampered like a prince every step of the way. Once there, he decided, he’d make the dramatic revelation that Grub was the prince after all, and that he’d only been playing the part to protect Grub from possible attackers. Grub would play along, surely—his other option was to be sent back to his cell, and Loth doubted he’d want that. The story sounded far-fetched even to his own ears, true, but with enough dramatic flair he was sure he could pull it off, and that was one thing Loth had never been accused of lacking. Morals, yes. A conscience? Definitely didn't have one of those. But flair? That, he had in spades.
Anyway, Grub would only have to pretend long enough for Loth to make a swift escape into the crowded streets of Callier, and Loth was sure that even he could remember to stand up straight and look imperious for a few minutes.
Maybe, once he’d ditched these idiots, Loth would dye his hair again—blonde this time—and see if they really did have more fun. Perhaps he’d keep his hands out of people’s pockets and slip them into their breeches instead and make his coin that way for a while. It was far less hazardous, and he did so enjoy it.
He pondered quietly as the others ate and packed up, not offering to help. He was meant to be royalty after all, and he’d never heard of a prince who’d lift a finger unless it was for his own benefit. Once the work was done, he mounted his horse and slapped the saddle. “Hurry up, Grub. I know you’re not used to using a horse for its intended purpose, but we have a lot of ground to cover to get to Callier.”
“No.”
“Pardon?” Loth arched one eyebrow in an expression that was part incredulity, part intimidation. It was a good look. He’d practised it in the mirror, and it never failed to get him his own way.
It didn't seem to work on Grub, though. He arched an eyebrow of his own, suddenly exuding confidence and, dare Loth say it, authority. “I want to sit up front. I haven’t escaped that prison after five—after a long time, only to be stuck looking at the back of your neck.”
“Excuse me, it’s a very nice neck!” Loth said, affronted. It was, too. Thick and muscular, he’d call it one of his best assets, except he had so many others to choose from.
“That’s as may be, but I still don’t want to stare at it for the next—” Grub stopped, turned to Scott. “How long will the trip to Callier take, exactly? Are we going through the mountain pass?”
Scott cleared his throat and said, “Uh,” before casting a helpless glance at Ada.
“If we take the mountain pass? Six days, maybe eight if the weather’s bad.”
“Six days,” Scott repeated, as if anyone needed to hear it again.
Loth cast an eye doubtfully at their small cart of supplies. “Forgive me for saying, but we aren't equipped for a trip that long. We’ll starve.” One of us is halfway there, he added to himself.
Scott’s expression brightened. “Oh no, there are places along the way. Ser Factor sent me a list. We stop and gather our supplies, and they let him know we’re still safe.”
“Ser... Factor?” Loth had a working knowledge of the kingdom's noble houses—it made it easier to pick a target when he chose to do an actual burglary—but he’d never heard of Ser Factor. “And who might that be?”
“He’s your glorious rescuer. Well, I’m the real rescuer,” Scott clarified, just in case anyone had forgotten he was supposed to be the hero, “but he’s the one holding the purse strings.”
Loth’s brow furrowed. Perhaps this Factor person was one of the new nobility that Doom had knighted in return for their support when he took the throne?