A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,114

‘the Prince of Drunkards will totter to our rescue.’

‘Well, not on his own.’ Rikke tried to pick the sleep out of her eyes. ‘My father says he’s bringing five thousand men with him.’

‘Five thousand whores, maybe. They say that’s how many he’s bedded.’

‘How old is he? Twenty-five?’ Rikke screwed her face up as she went over the sums. ‘If he really got going at seventeen, that’s eight years of fucking so … what … a couple every day? Provided none of ’em tempt him back for seconds. And he never has a day off. I mean, we all have moments when we’re not in the mood. Has he got ’em queueing down the palace corridors?’ She gave a snort of laughter. ‘His cock must be sore.’

‘Perhaps it’s only four thousand,’ said Leo, sourly.

‘More likely his reputation’s run way ahead of the truth.’ Rikke raised one brow at Leo. ‘I hear that can happen with some young men.’

‘Perhaps Crown Prince Orso’s the exception. Maybe he’ll fuck the Northmen to death for us.’

‘Fine by me, if it gets the bastards to go home.’

She tried to ease him back down beside her but he wouldn’t be moved. ‘It’d hardly be a surprise, since he’s got a Styrian degenerate for a mother.’

‘A Styrian what?’

Leo’s lip curled like it might’ve at a dead dog in bed with them. ‘The rumour is she lies with women.’

Rikke had never been able to understand why you’d care a shit who someone you’d never even met lay with. How few problems do you need to have before you count that among ’em? ‘Would’ve thought you’d understand. You spend most o’ your time with men.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Well … tight-knit group, your friends, aren’t they?’

Leo frowned, not quite getting all her point yet. ‘We’ve known each other for years. I grew up with Jurand and Antaup. And I met Jin in Uffrith, you know that. We’re brothers-in-arms.’

‘And such strong arms, too!’ And she squeezed one of his. ‘No wonder you all enjoy a wrestle.’

‘It’s good exercise, and …’ His eyes went wide and he twisted away from her. ‘That’s disgusting!’

‘Not to me.’ He’d some towering opinions, all right, but rarely built on much. She quite liked digging at their foundations and watching ’em totter. ‘Can’t think of anything more wholesome than all those muscular male bodies, glistening with sweat, grunting and straining and slithering around together—’

‘Do you have to drag everything into the gutter?’

‘I don’t have to.’ She caught his shoulder and pulled him back beside her. ‘But it is warm down here.’ She tried to nuzzle up against him but he was already on to his next grievance.

‘I don’t blame Orso, really.’ As if that was doing the man quite a favour. ‘Stealing other men’s glory is what princes are for.’ As if this was all about who got the glory, not who got home alive. ‘It’s my bloody mother I blame, for letting him get away with it!’ He’d have blamed his mother for letting the rain fall. ‘Why can’t she just trust me?’

‘Ugh,’ said Rikke, rolling away to stare up at the flapping tent cloth. It was plain her favourite part of the day was fully ruined. She’d no notion why he was so keen to rush into a battle he’d most likely lose. The boy had many fine features – bravery, honesty, good humour, a fine-shaped face and an even better-shaped arse, and so constantly, reliably warm. But imagination was not a strong point. Nor was he labouring under a low opinion of himself. Maybe losing was not a thing he could conceive of. Maybe to him, every delay was just wrong-headed shits throwing themselves in the way of his certain triumph.

‘… let me off the leash, I’d show these bastards something …’

The memory floated up, as it did at least once a day, of hiding under that riverbank while Stour Nightfall laughed about what he’d do to her. She thought of Uffrith in flames, and all the good folk hurt or killed, and she clenched her fists at the usual rush of fury. No one wanted that bastard dead more than she did, but even she saw they had to be patient. Whether you waited for all the help you could get seemed like no kind of question at all.

‘… I’m supposed to be her son, and she treats me like—’

Rikke puffed out her cheeks and gave a sigh that made her lips flap.

‘Sorry,’ said Leo sulkily, ‘am I boring you?’

‘Oh, no, no, no.’ She