“Well, then,” Terry said stiffly. “If you want to put it that way. I forgive you, though. I know the strain you’re under must be extraordinary. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
And then there were only three of us: Justin, Ryan, and me. The Prince looked between Ryan and me before he rolled his eyes. “Gods, you two are the worst. You have an hour. We have many things to discuss now that Sam has finally returned. Not a minute more. If I have to send someone to find you both, there will be trouble. This may not be a Verania I recognize anymore, but I am still the godsdamn Prince, and until we get my father back, I act in his stead.”
And that… shit. That was something I hadn’t given much thought to. Oh sure, I’d felt sick at the idea of Myrin imprisoning the King, and was planning on at least forty-seven different ways to have my revenge, but I hadn’t put myself in Justin’s shoes. I had lost much, but in my absence, the country Justin knew had changed and his father had been taken from him. And that rested upon my shoulders. If I’d stayed, things might have been different.
But Justin’s father had been taken, not just the King. I could only imagine how I’d feel if Myrin had my dad.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to tell him as he walked by, an annoyed look on his face as he dropped all of Gary’s luggage. “I didn’t mean—”
“Sam.” He stopped beside me, shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t.”
I nodded, because he was right. He didn’t want to hear an apology from me. I didn’t blame him for being angry with me.
He sighed loudly like I was an idiot. Which, to be fair, was probably true.
And then he did something I didn’t expect.
He pulled me into a hug.
As far as hugs go, it wasn’t great. His armor was bulky and poked at my chest and stomach. He felt stiff, and it was awkward. But the fact that he initiated it after everything I’d done meant more to me than I could put into words.
“I’m glad you’re home,” he whispered in my ear. “And I will kill you if you tell anyone I said that. I mean it, Sam. I will chop off your head myself. But I’m glad. Even if your inane prattling makes me want to stab my own eardrums, it… hasn’t been the same without you.”
“We’ll get him back,” I said, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I promise. I’ll do everything to get him back.”
He tensed a little at that but didn’t pull away. “I know,” he said, voice tight. “And I don’t blame you for this. I know you must think I do, and no matter what I say, you won’t believe me. But it’s true. This is on Myrin, and no one else.”
I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t think I had anything left to say.
“And go easy on Ryan, okay? He’s… just. Let him say what he needs to. It’ll be all right. In the end.”
He pulled away after that, the stoic mask of the Prince once again on his face. He glanced back at Ryan. “One hour. I mean it. Don’t test me.”
And then he was gone.
Above us, the guards of Camp HaveHeart moved along the walkways, the wood shifting and groaning. They were talking overloud, as if they thought it’d give Ryan and me some privacy. I didn’t think it worked as much as they thought it would.
Ryan must not have thought so either, because one moment he was staring at me with a strange look on his face, and the next he stalked toward me, scowling. He grabbed me roughly by the arm, ignoring my squawk as he pulled me behind him.
“Hey, hey, maybe buy me dinner first before you manhandle me, you big—”
The glare he shot over his shoulder was not to be trifled with, so I shut my mouth and let myself be led to my doom.
Gods. I really hated my doom.
Chapter 5: Wherein Knight Delicious Face Kicks Some Ass
HE DIDN’T speak as he led me through Camp HaveHeart, his grip on my arm never loosening. If anything, it tightened, and I was sure I’d have bruises there later. The idea of it sent a sick thrill down my spine, which proved once and for all I was a little fucked in the head. For all I knew, this was going to be the only touch I’d get from him again.
People stared openly at us as we passed them by, the knights hooting and hollering as if they thought we were on our way to a good dicking, the Foxy Lady Brigade flushing hotly and leering in ways unbecoming of a group of assassins, and Gary making the sign of the cross with his hoof for reasons I didn’t quite understand. I thought about asking Ryan to maybe slow down a little as his strides were much larger than mine, but I couldn’t find my voice.
He led me to the house he and Justin shared. I wanted to jerk my arm back and run in the opposite direction. What if we got inside and there was evidence of their newly rediscovered love all throughout their house? Like His and His monogrammed bath towels hanging in the bathroom? Or like His and His monogrammed dildos on the kitchen table from a rigorous bout of Stick It In Me before they’d left on their mission, still glistening with lube, their semen dried in a flaky crust on the floor? I didn’t know if I could survive His and His monogrammed dildos on kitchen tables with lube and jizz stains. My heart would break cleanly in two.
While I was focused on the dildos (how big would they be? would they have rhinestones on them? would they vibrate?), Ryan shoved the door open, pulled me inside sharply, and slammed it behind us before leaning against it and staring at me.
He dropped my arm.
And waited.
Since I wasn’t sure what to do next, I took in my surroundings.
The house was perfunctory. It was sparsely furnished and didn’t look like the love den of a couple who had just rekindled their feelings for each other and felt the need to bone in every room possible. But for all I knew, Justin was weird and only liked to have sex in a bedroom. If that was the case, I felt bad for Ryan, who liked hand jobs in hallway closets. My review of the room took all of five seconds, even though I had hoped it would take a few hours. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I did what I did best: I fidgeted awkwardly, catching Ryan’s gaze before looking away.
The silence stretched on for an unbearable minute, each conversation opener I could come up with sounding as ridiculous as the last.
Hi! You look swell.
It’s great to see you again! Sorry about the whole disappearing act and the fall of Verania. Totes my bad!
Do you want to skip the whole Grr I’m Angry Thing and go straight to the makeup sex?
Did you think of me at all? Because I thought of you. Every day, the first thing and the last. I think I always will.
Instead I finally broke the silence and said, “I’m sorry about my I’ve Been In the Forest Eyebrows.”
And then winced, because of course this was my life.
He snorted and shook his head like he found me amusing but was trying desperately not to. “You capitalized that, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. That means it’s true now.”
“Is that right?”
“You know how it is.”
“Do I?” he asked, and I heard the anger in his voice. “Maybe I don’t know anymore. Maybe none of us do.”
That hurt. It was expected, but still. I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t. “That’s fair,” I said as evenly as possible, because I could take the punches just as long as we came out on the other side still standing.
He started taking his armor off, piece by piece, the metal clanging loudly in the quiet room. “Fair,” he repeated. “I’m so glad you think so.”
“Okay,” I said, wringing my hands. “You’re mad. I get that. And I respect your right to have that anger. You’ve earned it. So. Thank you for sharing it with me. I will accept it as part of who you are right now and will do nothing to minimize the way you’re feeling.” I was proud of myself for being so mature and responsible.
“Oh, I’m not mad, Sam.”
I blinked. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Awesome, maybe we could just—
“I’m furious.”
Uh-oh.