down the cells for weapons on a regular basis but told them to leave the contraband out openly on the beds. That way the men would know that their stashes had been discovered, but as long neither weapons nor drugs were found, the contraband would be tolerated.
Kylon thought about what Larz had said when he asked him what they could we do to guarantee he wouldn’t double cross them even if they did somehow manage to put him in place? He wasn’t exactly trustworthy.
Larz had raised one shoulder. “Well…that, my friend, is what we have to figure out. We’re going to call him into my office and talk to him. Try to convince him that helping us is his best option and in his best interests. Like I said, we’ll make him an offer he’d be crazy to refuse.”
****
Rasc Centarlo was feeling miserable—angry, full of self-loathing, and plenty sorry for himself. His life seemed to be one big shit-show, and the shit just kept happening over and over again. Ducking down an alley beside an outbuilding to get out of the hot sun, Rasc sighed and flopped down in the warm sandy dirt to rest. He was almost getting used to having to dig the sand out of the crack of his ass by now, and though he’d fought hard against the Tygerians, he was tired and maybe a little heartsick over the way his life had gone to hell yet again. All he wanted to do was smoke a damn cigarette and lie in the shade of an outbuilding on this sweltering hot afternoon for a while, as Setin kept watch. It would be nice to have no big fucking Tygerians in his face for a few minutes.
He realized he wasn’t entirely blameless. Okay, he was actually guilty as hell. He’d knowingly aligned his fortunes with Prince Tibiel when he arrived on Laltana—though to be fair, Tibiel had assured him that the real king, Janos, was almost certainly dead and buried in some shallow grave in a Tygerian prison camp. By the time Janos had finally shown up in the flesh, Rasc was in far too deep with Tibiel, and Tibiel had way too much on him for him to simply quit. Tibiel had made it clear that if he jumped ship, he wouldn’t be afraid to use what he knew to make sure Rasc rotted in a Laltanan prison.
It had been Tibiel’s idea to purchase Prince Larz, once he’d learned about the hijacking of the ship carrying the royal prince. He had immediately fired off a subspace message to the ship’s captain, one of his regular suppliers, and offered to buy the prince and top whatever offers the captain may have already received. He then dispatched Rasc to make the deal.
Tibiel’s plan had been to gift the young boy to his brother, Janos, thinking Janos would jump at the chance to use and mistreat him, precisely because of how badly he’d been treated during his time in the Tygerian prisoner of war camps.
Tibiel could then betray his brother and turn Janos in to the Tygerians. He could then step in as the new king. Rasc wasn’t happy about the assignment, and even less so about seeing those young boys in cages on the slave ship, but he had little regard for Tygerians at that time in his life, not to mention the fact that all the Tygerian “boys” had been bigger and more muscular than he was. They looked plenty capable of taking care of themselves. The war had been long and bitter, so it was easy for him to turn a blind eye and tell himself that none of it was any of his business, and in this world a man had to look out for number one.
Except things didn’t work out that way. It had been very much his business as he later learned. Janos was the kind to put great stock in things like honor and loyalty and doing the right thing. Stupid things that Rasc had once believed in too. Once, that is, when he’d been younger, much more naïve, and just didn’t know any better. But things like principles had been beaten out of him at a very early age, and eight years spent fighting the war against the Axis had only proven to him how useless honor was in the face of near constant bloodshed and death.
In this world, Rasc had learned he had to fight for every scrap he got, and