together by fate, and why should I fight against that? We are together for my last few days, and there must be a reason for it, don’t you think?”
“Well, I’ve been told to guard you. That’s the reason.”
“You have guarded me and you have stolen from me. You have failed to feed me as you said you would. We’ve been put together and that is why I will stay with you. Even when I’m dead, chopped in two, I’ll stay with you, Broderick. I’m going to haunt you for all your days. You won’t get away from me.”
Broderick frowned. “You will not haunt me. You will not.”
“Only on the darkest of nights. But I will come. You’re helping to kill me, so I can only return the favor. I will come back and scream my deathly screams in your head.” Edyon waved his hands and widened his eyes as he said this.
Broderick looked genuinely fearful and dealt with it by kicking Edyon again. But he’d only landed his boot once when he was distracted by shouts from other boys entering the room.
Edyon, curled up on the floor, lifted his head when he saw the boy in the center of the group. Dressed in armor, his hair plaited and tied with bows, small and delicate of body with a sweet-looking young face—it could only be Harold.
And, behind him, another, much sweeter face. March—his eyes staring at Edyon. Sorrow and fear in them.
And bravery and love and—at least I’ve seen him again before I die.
Tears filled Edyon’s eyes for a moment, but he blinked them away as Harold came to stand over him.
“So, this is the bastard who thinks he’s a prince?”
Edyon got to his feet, a little unsteady, and said, “I’m never sure about this bowing business, who’s more senior and all that. But as you have me in chains and I’ve never really taken to the prince thing . . .” He bowed a deep bow. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
Harold’s face changed. “You speak well for a bastard.”
“Thank you, cousin. Alas, conversation has been a little limited of late. My guard communicates mostly through his boot. I was wondering if this was, perhaps, a typical way Brigantine boys conversed?”
“We kick dogs that don’t behave.”
“I can assure you, Your Highness, that I have behaved like the perfect prisoner. A role I’m more familiar with than you might expect. In fact, it was your sister who last rescued me from a prison cell, releasing me to freedom. I hardly dare hope that you might be so generous.”
“You can hope what you like, but you will be executed.” Harold smiled. “But you were with my sister? Tell me about Catherine. How was she?”
“She was busy. Always busy. She led us across the North-ern Plateau. We fled Rossarb together and she went into the demon world.” He looked at March as he added, “Alas, I couldn’t get into the world to see its wonders—I escaped south with another—a brave man I came to love and trust deeply.” Edyon noticed a slight softening of March’s mouth.
“Catherine went into the demon world?”
“And came out alive. Leading her men.”
Harold scowled. “I’ve not been in it myself. I will go soon. It’s not right that she does things I don’t.”
“She takes smoke too, I believe. When necessary. I assume that’s what gave her the strength to kill your brother, Prince Boris.”
Harold leaned closer to Edyon and whispered, “For which I’m extremely grateful.” He straightened up, adding, “But still, it’s not womanly at all. She’s escaped our father’s bonds and does as she will.”
“Indeed. And she acted as judge when I was accused of a murder. She saw justice done.”
“A judge? A woman as a judge! What’s going on in Pitoria?”
“The world has indeed gone mad,” Edyon agreed.
Harold paced away from Edyon and then back. “You’re not what I expected.”
Edyon smiled. “I think I can say the same.” You’re smaller and even more of a shit.
“You’re very much like your father in your face, though.”
Edyon glanced at March, whose eyes told him that the news was bad.
“Bring his father’s face in here.”
And, to Edyon’s horror, a stake was brought in, Thelo-nius’s head on it.
He turned away in disgust.
“The question is what to do with you, the bastard son from Pitoria. Your father is dead, so you know what that makes you.”
Edyon swallowed hard. “It’s true. I am Thelonius’s son. I am a prince and I am thus . . . now the ruler of Calidor.”