Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,76
never going to last. He consoled himself with the thought that he had a few weeks, at least, and dipped his chin so Quinn could kiss more of his neck.
Quinn’s hands slid over his stomach, lingering on the scratch from Doom’s sword. “Such a hero,” he muttered.
“I’m legitimately injured,” Loth grumbled. “I was almost a martyr.”
“And now you’re a prince.”
Loth perked up at that because he was, at least for the time being.
Quinn sighed against his neck. “Do you think we can get someone to bring us something to eat?”
“Let’s find out.” Loth stood and limped over to the door. He opened it and looked outside. Ada was standing guard. Her arms were folded over her chest and she was watching the length of the passageway suspiciously. Loth cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but the princes are—”
“The princes are noisy,” Ada snapped. “You’re worse than Calarian and Benji.”
Loth grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” The guard on the other side of the door made a choking sound. He would have been seventeen at most, Loth guessed, and he was a delightful shade of purple under his helmet. Loth supposed they had been rather loud, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about it. He nodded at the boy. “It turns out that a Dirty Alchemist works up quite the appetite. Be a good lad and bring us up something to eat, will you?”
The young guard took off running.
“He must have been intimidated by my regal presence,” Loth said.
“Either that, or the fact you’re waving your regal dick around everywhere,” Ada suggested. “Which you really shouldn’t, since it’s pretty obvious you’re not a natural redhead.”
“Excellently pragmatic as always, Ada,” Loth said. He closed the door and turned to see Quinn’s judgemental face. A second later it was obscured by the pair of pants that Quinn threw at his head. Loth climbed into them with some difficulty and then opened the door again. “Come in, Ada.”
She stomped inside and stared at Quinn, who was pulling his clothes on. “Now that one’s a natural redhead.”
Quinn spluttered and tried to hide behind a tapestry while he tugged his pants up.
“He’s shy too,” Loth said, for some reason deeply amused by that. “So, Ada, what’s the news in the castle? And the city too, I suppose. Are the people delighted that Lord Doom is dead, or should Quinn and I expect mobs armed with torches and pitchforks to turn up at any moment now?”
“Probably not. Doom upset a lot of people. It’s not that they love the prince, it’s just that they hated Doom more.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Loth murmured, nodding. He made his way with difficulty over to one of the ornate chairs in the room and slumped down, extending his injured leg in front of him. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this.”
“How old are you, anyway?” Quinn asked, from the depths of the shirt that he was shrugging into.
Loth honestly had to think about it, he’d gotten so used to shaving off a year or two and then adding them back as it suited him. It took some serious calculation before he ventured, “Twenty… six?”
Quinn’s head popped out the top of the shirt. “Is that all? Are you sure?”
Loth counted again and grimaced. “Fine. Twenty-seven.”
“You mean twenty-one,” Ada interrupted. Loth frowned. “Twenty-one,” She repeated. “The prince is twenty-one, which is why he’s come to take the crown, remember?”
Loth brightened immediately. He could live with twenty-one. And he’d blame the crow’s feet on the time spent in jail. And then he remembered, with a sudden sinking feeling, that he wouldn’t be playing a prince for much longer, and that very soon Quinn wouldn’t need him at all. Quinn would go on to be a prince—or a king—without Loth by his side. He’d probably do an amazing job of whatever the hell it was monarchs actually did, and Loth would go back to doing...
His stomach sank even further.
Well. Loth would go back to doing what he’d always done, wouldn’t he? Thieving, cheating and whoring, with the occasional scribing on the side.
He certainly didn’t belong in a castle, with a prince.
“Loth?” Quinn asked. The way he said it made Loth think that he might have repeated it a few times before it caught Loth’s attention. Quinn’s eyes were wide, and his forehead was creased with concern. “Are you okay?”
Loth pasted on a fake smile and ratcheted it up a few gleaming degrees. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I