Page 4 of The Broken Prince

“I wish him the best.” He took a drink of his scotch then returned it to the table.

“I’m nervous.” I felt a constant gnawing in my stomach, a fear that a letter would be sent from HeartHolme, notifying us that my father would never return. It would be stained with my grandmother’s tears. “I’ve heard the stories. How my parents fought so hard against oppression and injustice. How they defeated armies ten times larger than theirs. It’s a thrilling story when you already know the ending. But now this ending is unwritten…and it’s not so thrilling anymore.”

He hardly blinked as he looked at me, his stare hard and intense, riptides of emotion underneath that even stare. “Men are always weak, their temptations their undoing in the end. They contract syphilis from one of their whores and die a premature death. They send their soldiers to win their battles and grow fat on the throne, so once they’re required to lift their swords to save their own necks, they’re too weak to do so. But your father is a mighty king with only a single weakness.”

“What’s his one weakness?”

He cocked his head slightly. “You.”

My heart tightened into a fist.

“Which is why the Teeth told me to take you. Your father should have taken me on his mission. I could be much more help scouting the east than sitting here drinking my boredom away, but his weakness clouds his judgment.”

“You turned on the Teeth. You should be afraid of them.”

He gave a slight shrug. “They violated the terms of the deal. I don’t feel bad about it.”

“But what if you need them in the future?”

“If your father kills them all, that’s a moot point.”

“Aren’t they your cousins?”

“Cousins many, many times removed.”

“Then isn’t that a betrayal?”

He took another drink. “You know how it is with family…you always forgive and forget.”

“But if your vampires come to fight for us, that’s hard to forgive.”

He gave another shrug. “My father won’t have a choice if he wants me alive. And since I’m his favorite, he definitely wants me alive.”

“Your father has a favorite? That’s barbaric.”

“And you think your father doesn’t?” he asked with a half smile.

“He doesn’t.”

“Right…”

“He has different relationships with me and Atticus—”

“You’re his favorite, baby.”

He hadn’t called me that in a long time, and the second I heard it, I thought of memories I should forget.

“And I don’t blame him.”

“Atticus is an honorable man.”

“But he’s forgettable. You’re like a bonfire in the middle of the snow. You burn white-hot, melt everything around you, make the witches come out and dance until they’re ashes…”

“Witches?”

“You don’t have witches here?”

“I—I don’t know.”