Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,70

Doom’s expression tightened. “What the fuck is this? What are you doing?”

Ada grinned at him through her beard. “Our business is completed, Doom. We’ve got a new contract now.” She tugged her axe out of her belt. “If you want the prince, whichever one he is, you’re going to need to get through us first.”

Loth’s chest swelled with hope, and he glanced quickly at Quinn. Quinn looked as befuddled as Loth felt, his forehead creased and his mouth hanging open slightly, but the same unlikely hope shone in his eyes. Loth had no idea what the hell was going on here, but was it possible they were winning?

Holy crap, it was.

They had Doom outnumbered, and they were going to win!

Which, of course, was right when Scott, attempting to make himself scarce and stumbling around in the periphery, tripped and fell forward. To save himself, he reached out and grabbed desperately at the tapestry displaying the Dumesny crest, pulling it from the wall. An end of it landed in the fireplace. Flames licked at it for a moment, and then the thick fabric caught on fire. Scott screeched and tugged it free. Then, panicking, he tossed the flaming drapery right into the middle of their not-human shield. They scattered, and in the seconds that it took them to regroup, Lord Doom was rushing forward, raising his gleaming knife into the air and heading straight for Quinn.

Thump.

The sound of the knife punching into flesh was the loudest thing Loth had ever heard.

“Quinn?” Loth asked, his heart clenching. Why was he finding it hard to breathe, and why was he on the floor? “Quinn?”

“Loth!” Quinn was staring down at him, eyes wide. “What did you do?”

“Oh,” Loth said, and looked down at where Lord Doom’s knife was protruding from his stomach. “Holy shit. Did I stand in front of you?”

Quinn nodded, his eyes filling with tears.

“Wow,” said Loth, because who the hell ever would have seen that coming?

From the door of the solarium, Loth heard banging and yelling. Soldiers, no doubt. Quinn might have hoped they’d defend the crown, but Loth more than had his doubts. So did Ada and Ser Greylord and Calarian, fortunately—they lined up to meet the soldiers just as the door crashed open again. Dave bellowed happily and dived into the melee at the door. Scott, meanwhile, was still crashing around over by Doom’s couch, half dragging the smouldering tapestry with him.

Which left nobody between Quinn and Lord Doom at all.

Quinn roared, pulling his sword out of its sheath and advancing on his uncle. Loth saw the sneer on Lord Doom’s face and watched as the man reached behind him. He had no doubt that Lord Doom had more blades secreted about his person, and no doubt that Quinn, who had spent the last five years in a cell, was totally and utterly mismatched in this fight.

His stomach hurt, and his eyes stung, and his throat... wriggled? Shit, no, that was Pie, still tucked up in the pocket of his scarf.

“Help him!” Loth tried to yell at the others. “Help Quinn!” But his voice was weak.

Quinn raised his sword just as Lord Doom produced another knife.

“Come on then, nephew,” Doom said. “You’re the only thing standing between me and the throne. I should have killed you years ago, but your mother begged me not to. With her last breath, even.”

Quinn’s expression twisted, but his sword-arm didn’t shake. Tears shone in his eyes.

Lord Doom shook his head reproachfully. “Why couldn’t you just have been killed by bandits like a good boy?” He tilted his head. “It’s not an easy thing, Tarquin, to kill your last remaining relative. Still, I’m sure I’ll get over it in time. I’ll bet the weight of the crown will be quite comforting. And I promise I’ll play quite the heartbroken uncle in public.”

He darted forward with his knife just as Quinn swung the sword. Quinn missed as Doom sidestepped, and Loth heard the tear of fabric as a blade cut through it. He didn’t even know which one of them had been struck. It became obvious when Doom dropped his knife and snatched the sword from Quinn’s hands with a dry laugh. “You really thought you could take me on, you sad little boy?”

“Help Quinn!” Loth wheezed at the others desperately, but they were knee-deep in soldiers at the door. All he could think was that he should have run after all, taken Quinn and left this whole mess behind, because there was nobody to