Page 66 of Thorns and Echoes

He smiled over his shoulder. “Right to the point, hmm? I only mention family because of your Escorts. A word of advice – don’t try to rescue your man in the dungeons. Yelena was going on and on about catching you in the act of breaking the truce. She must have him heavily guarded.”

There were a few nicks on the edge of the blade. She wondered where Vern procured it from. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Consider it a show of goodwill. I like you, highness. You – and your crown, I’ll be completely honest. You see, as much as my mother loves me, I’m still the third child – and delightfully male. Her crown will never pass to me.” Drawing a finger over the sheets, he jumped up and leaned back onto his hands. His coat parted from his chest, revealing a vibrant blue shirt clinging to taut muscles. The way his legs were spread was a bold invitation. A stray breeze ruffled his hair.

She frowned. The window wasn’t even open.

The prince continued, “Make me your Consort, and I’ll help you. I won’t kill Castien. You can even keep him if you like.”

Her grip on her sword tightened. Anger flowed in her veins like shards of ice. A single gesture, and Vern would separate this arrogant bastard’s head from his shoulders. “So certain of victory, are you? You should be asking him not to kill you.”

He threw back his head and laughed with no apparent concern for his exposed neck. “The state he’s in? I doubt he’ll last five seconds.”

Ice swirled in her lungs. Cold rage was a comfortable, close companion. The prince was right. Castien’s state of mind was unstable. She needed to fix that.

Her fingers curled around the blade. The bite of the edge centered her. “I will consider your offer, pirate. In the meantime, I offer my own advice – do not enter my room uninvited again.”

The prince’s lips held their perpetual smile as he tilted his head in an agreeable fashion. Although it didn’t show in his expression, disappointment flickered in his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Have a lovely night, highness. Don’t consider for too long.”

Silence held for a minute before Vern separated himself from the shadows.

She glanced his way. “No, I am not considering it.” She wasn't that desperate. Yet.

But harsh words slipped from her mouth, “The easiest solution would be to murder Yelena.” A Queen’s death would throw the entire city into an uproar. The arrogant bitch didn’t have an heir, not even a steward. Power imbalance caused havoc. Plant a hint of ‘evidence’ and the guards would be even more distracted.

It was also the most satisfying solution.

“I shouldn’t.” She met Vern’s eyes.

She hadn’t asked a question, but he answered nonetheless.

His hand cupped her cheek. “My heart, I am not your father right now. I am not your steward. I am your assassin, and I would rather do the job myself, but I would never take what is yours. Kill her if you wish.”

Love shone in his eyes as he used the same phrases she had to him. She had spoken in anger.

Her fingers grasped his gently. “I’m sorry, Father.”

He shook his head. “Never apologize for being yourself.”

The corners of her lips curved into a bitter smile. “Yes, Vern. Be careful.”

If Balak wasn’t lying, even Vern wouldn’t be able to extract Jerome from the dungeons.

They would have to find another way.

—

She couldn't sleep. The guards hadn't taken away her sword. No one else had invaded her room. She had pushed a chair under the door handle, but the threat of an intruder wasn't the cause for her restlessness.

Yelena expected her to act tonight. If she climbed out the window or fought her way through the halls, she would find Castien with a blade to his throat.

Three days.

The sky was beginning to lighten.

Two days.

She closed her eyes.