Page 123 of The Nymph Prince

The soldier leading us stopped once we reached the biggest tent. “Here we are. No funny business, ya hear?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied in a dry tone.

King James was the one who had an air of superiority; not me. I was a man of my word and would never break an alliance of trust. Humans were different, though. The most wicked beings in the world.

Upon entering the king’s tent, I noticed the luxury of it. A bed was off to one side, topped with fluffy pillows and a red and gold blanket. There was a sitting table with two chairs, a tactic table that was draped with a map, a chest that I suspected held his clothing, and other comforts that were denied to his men. An assortment of food covered another table, ranging from cooked meat to fruits and bread.

How different we were.

I slept with my men. Dined with them. I gave myself no luxuries that they didn’t have.

“Welcome, sweet prince,” King James said, standing from the table. “I take it your journey has been pleasant so far?”

My jaw tightened upon hearing his words. I was Alek’s sweet prince. Not his.

“Pleasant?” I responded, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course.”

Maybe for him it’d been enjoyable. I was sure he’d ridden on horseback or in a fancy carriage during it. His manner of dress said as much; blond hair with every strand perfectly styled, a silk shirt with no sweat stains or dirt, and boots with no mud. I wondered if he could even swing a sword or if he’d just command his men to do it for him.

“Sit with me.” He gestured to the table. “Let us drink and enjoy the day.”

“We should discuss plans for—”

“No talk of battle!” He pinned me with a cold stare. His topaz eyes clouded with anger and his nostrils flared with his sharp intakes of air. Then, almost as quickly as the anger had touched his face, it faded and he smiled. “It can wait, I mean. We’ll be knee-deep in blood and war soon. Better to have one night of merriment.”

That one moment had revealed a lot about the king.

I didn’t think of him much like a snake in high grass anymore. No. A snake, although vile and wicked, never hid who he was. He might hide in the grass to gain the advantage, but when seen, he struck. King James was more like the tale of the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He tricked his prey into thinking he was one of them, and then when he gained their trust and they least expected it, he attacked.

He was in for a rude awakening if he considered me a sheep.

“Let us drink then,” I responded, flashing a smile of my own.

“Splendid.” King James poured himself a glass of wine before pouring one for me. “To our successes. May they be ever so sweet.”

We were playing a game, silently making our moves. The true object of the game, though, was not only carefully calculatingmymoves…but predictinghis, as well.

I drank to his toast. Our eyes remained locked over our glasses.

“Care to play a game of cards?” he asked as something sinister shone in his gaze. “I should warn you, though. I’m very good. My opponents never see me coming.”

“The way a man plays cards says a lot about him.”

“Indeed.”

By the time I left his tent later that evening, I felt dirty. He made my skin crawl.

The only benefit to having played cards with him was I saw how he reacted when he lost. He didn’t behave like a child and stomp his foot or pout about it. Instead, an eerie calm washed over him. He’d smile and tell me congratulations on my victory, yet his eyes would darken.

“Lor!” Troy jumped on my back.

I grunted at the sudden weight of him and almost toppled over, but I righted myself before I did. His legs wrapped around me, and I held onto them as he gripped my neck.

“We aren’t young boys any longer, dear friend,” I said, carrying him around with me as I advanced toward our area of the camp. “Why must you jump on me in this way?”

I’d asked the question, but I made no moves to shrug him off.

“Because my legs are sore from all of our walking.”