“I don’t need your help, Caldren.”
Caldren gave me a weary look that reminded me of a thousand condescending glances from my older brother. “You do. And I need yours. Why do we have to do this over and over, Jaik? Why can’t we act like brothers?”
Even when he was pretending to try to make up with me, he sounded like an arrogant ass. But he was a rebel, and I was the crown; there was no way for us to make up. “Maybe you’re a few years too late to play at being my brother.”
Caldren hesitated, looking as if he were trying to force something from his throat but he couldn’t get it out. Maybe it was an apology, or maybe it was indigestion.
Either way, I didn’t give a damn what he had to say. “You should go. Your presence never puts Father in a very good mood.”
“I’m not skulking away, Jaik. I’m here to protect Honor, just as you are.”
Caldren stayed stubbornly at my side as my father and Gorion stepped into the room. Their royal robes flared behind them like dragon’s wings; my father’s in royal purple, Gorion’s in the deep scarlet of their house. No one else in the kingdom dared wear the dragon royals’ colors.
I’d never minded trading in my fine purple clothing for a training tunic, though.
I bowed my head in respect at my father’s arrival. Next to me, Cal sank to one knee as he bowed his head, though I caught the way his gaze sharpened in hatred, the way his jaw tightened.
My father ignored him and left him kneeling there. Coldly, he said to me, “Jaik. Why are you strangling the lady?”
I glanced down at Alis, who I’d almost forgotten. Her eyes were lolling into the back of her head, and I released her, letting her crumple to the ground. Caldren inspired me to violence, even when I didn’t intend it.
My father glanced around, then sighed. “You certainly have caused a lot of destruction.”
“Everyone needs a hobby.”
“I told you to stay away from Honor Hannaby. The girl is nothing but trouble, and I’m skeptical Branok and Lynx are as skilled spymasters as you all claim if they haven’t realized that.”
“You made your wishes very clear,” I responded crisply.
“And you’ve made your defiance equally clear,” he said, and I knew there would be consequences, even if I didn’t see what they were yet.
Pend wandered around the room while I waited silently. His shoes ground over the shattered tea set and shards of once-fine furniture. Besides me, Cal was silent, his head still bowed, knotted tension in the lines of his shoulders and bent back. I was tempted to ask Pend to let him up, but I didn’t have any good will to burn with my father at the moment. Saving Honor was more important than Caldren’s feelings.
“Henrick and Alis were plotting against me. I’m not sure how Honor fit into their plans, if she was working with them against the crown and then her betrayal went awry, or if she was resisting…” Pend eyed me curiously, waiting for me to rush to defend Honor, but I knew it would do no good.
“Alis and Henrick tortured her,” I said. “I’d like to know why.”
“As would I, my son. I’ll take the wretched thing with me and share my findings with you.” My father spoke benevolently, as if he were doing me a favor. “I assume Henrick is dead?”
He glanced at the ash-coated body with the fine clothes, surrounded by other dusty-looking, bloodied corpses of guards. The head was missing. I may have swallowed it.
While I generally pride myself on my restraint and control, even I occasionally get a little over-excited. “I assume so. Decapitation is usually fatal.”
“I’m so glad sixteen years of the finest private tutors paid off so well.” Pend bared his teeth in his closest approximation of a smile. “That’s Henrick and Alis sorted, then. And where is the girl?”
“We’ve taken her to recover.”
Pend gave me one of those looks that warned me not to be tiresome. He’d figure out where we had her; he had his own spies and assassins. I’d sometimes sat in the Olds’ meetings, with Pend’s stable of assassins lounging outside the door, waiting for their assignments.
“I’ve tried to protect you from her,” Pend said idly, as if the words were thoughtless, but he was watching me with his usual cold control. “She’s hungry for your gold, not your dick, my boy.”
Those words burned in my chest. How dare he speak so crassly about Honor.
“I’d appreciate it if you returned her to my castle in the city by nightfall so she can be interrogated as well. If she’s innocent, she’ll be returned to you. I’ll even have her healed in the meantime.”
“No,” I said.
My father’s face never shifted; he’d known I would refuse. To my right, Caldren’s hand tightened on his knee, his fingers white. He was the model of a respectful, diligent warrior—not that my father would appreciate him. And he was counting on me now, just as Honor was.
Summoning every ounce of reserve I had, I said quietly, “Honor won’t survive your interrogation. She needs healing. She’s at death’s door. Give me some time.”
He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll allow delayed obedience this one time, my son; see that she’s brought to me when she’s ready.”
At least I could buy us time. I had no intention of ever turning Honor over to my father.
“Very well,” I said.
Gorion grabbed Alis by the back of the neck and hauled her to her feet. She pleaded with him in a broken voice as he dragged her from the room, his own face disinterested. I knew there was no way to get Alis from my father when I’d barely managed to protect Honor.
Pend turned as if to go with them, then stopped and turned back. “Also.”
Shit.
“Yes, Father?”
“Remember there are consequences when you disobey me. You already have pushed my patience to the breaking point with your dalliance with this girl after I expressly asked you to avoid the maid.”
I dipped my head in a curt nod of understanding. I always knew I would pay.
“I beat you in an effort to prevent you from encountering far worse pain, but there’s nothing I can do when you choose to ignore my wise counsel. Fly away with the girl, my son, but she’ll only ever disappoint you. Someday soon, you’ll understand the kind of disappointment I feel when I look at you and Caldren.”
With that, my father turned and left the room in a ripple of robes.
Caldren rose to his feet. “Nice of him to bring me in there at the end,” he muttered. He bounced lightly on his toes, as if he were shaking off the discomfort—and humiliation—of being left kneeling and unacknowledged. He’d had the intent of standing by my side, but Pend would never let him.
“I have to fly north.” I inclined my head, saying goodbye to him.
“Father had you beaten,” he said the words casually. “Still? At your age? Perhaps I don’t mind being disinherited so much.”
The words hurt my pride. “I still haven’t eclipsed your record number of beatings while Pend tried to break your pig-headedness.”