Chapter Eighteen

The drawing lay on the table the next morning in the Prince's sitting room.

"We're leaving tomorrow," said Sébastien.

Remus peered at the stick figure that he assumed was the Prince. He stood in the air with his crooked arms raised. A spiky thing decorated his head, which Remus assumed was a crown. Other little stick figures clustered at the bottom with huge smiles and their arms reaching for him.

She'd probably imagined yesterday meant he was the King now and thought he'd get a crown when she'd drawn the picture, not understanding the purpose of the ceremony. Either way, he was surprised Sébastien hadn't tossed it away.

"Did you hear me, or are you off in the clouds?" asked Sébastien.

"I heard you," Remus said in a level tone. He'd be out of the Palace, which was a relief.

"You'll have a horse to ride along with armor and a sword," said Sébastien.

Remus wanted to ask if he'd heard right. He'd actually receive something sharp and pointy?

"Don't get ideas," said Sébastien. "It's because we're headed into an area that's not safe. If I die, the Middies might decide to lay you in the grave with me simply for coming along. Also, think about the consequences if you try to turn them against me. I still own you."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Why did you keep the drawing?"

Sébastien shrugged. "It's cute."

"The scribbles of a four-year-old aren't exactly high art for someone like you."

"Excuse me for keeping a child's gift. If you're too good for scribbles, I don't give a shit. Focus on the matter at hand. We'll be heading to Arquous first."

Remus squinted. "Why are we heading away from the coast?"

"Because the Regent has selected men that I'll bring to Midland. Most are from the north of Soleil, and they'll meet us there. Then we'll go to Meche."

"You mean men loyal to him?"

"We'll see who is who. Lord Rochefort's may be suitable. Lord Dubois is quite friendly with the Regent, so I doubt he will be. Overall, you can't trust anyone, so remember that."

"Why can't they come here? This is a coastal city, and you could leave on a ship from here. Not Meche."

"I guess the Regent wants to boot me out as soon as possible and have me waste time. Those are his orders for now. Obey, obey, obey. Then I'll do what I want. If you do what I want, maybe you'll earn your freedom."

Remus gazed back at him. Was that a lie to keep him compliant? Maybe wasn't a word he wanted to hear regarding his freedom. Sébastien had already tried to kill him, although one might say he had a real reason to think Remus had tried to have him harmed.

The best way for them to get what they both wanted was for Remus to leave at some point in Midland and go to South Sea by himself. Simply going to Rowland and trying to gather people to follow and take over wasn't a good enough plan. He'd have a much better chance if he came with an army of werewolves. With Remus on his proper seat, he'd have two armies, and while werewolves would likely scoff at the idea of helping Sébastien, the Rowland army would do as he said.

Except Sébastien might be planning to get the werewolves under his command. If so, he wouldn't need the Rowland army.

"Are you going to tell me what you're planning overall?" asked Remus.

"No."

Then Remus wasn't either. Two could play at that game, and if Sébastien planned to lie and keep him as a slave in the end, it was best not to hand him arrows that would harm Remus in the end. If they parted in Midland, there was nothing the Prince could do to ensure Remus continued aiding him. He could get help from the werewolves, take Rowland back, and tell Sébastien to go die in a ditch somewhere.

There was no way that Sébastien would leave such a thing up to chance and out of his control. Not with his life and crown on the line. Remus would have to play things by ear and see what happened as they went.

Sébastien flapped a hand at him. "You can return to your room for now. I'm sure you have much packing to think about."

Remus ignored the snarky comment. "Can you grant me something?"

"What?" The way the word slithered from the Prince almost made Remus regret asking.

He plowed ahead since it was better to get it out of the way. "I know you won't think of me as your equal, and we can say that's fair because of my family and what I am to you now. But while we're out, not only can I advise you, I can be your extra ears and eyes even if I'm not free." Yet.

"Okay?"

"Even if you don't trust me enough-"

"I don't trust you at all."

"Fine. Even if you don't trust me at all, I intend for my actions to be helpful. If we disagree on something, at least grant me the privilege of us speaking about it like two men, not Master and slave. You can have the final decision, but we'll at least talk about the issue and try to get on the same page so we're not uselessly clashing. You may dislike something until you see my reasoning, and the reverse may be true. If we're constantly arguing, it'll only make the entire situation more difficult. We've got enough problems to worry about."

Sébastien paused as he seemed to mull over that logic. Remus didn't think it was asking for too much. They were both heading into danger and petty fights could have unpleasant consequences.

"Fine, but remember that bit about the final decision being mine. You might advise, but don't ever confuse that with commanding."

"Very well, Your Majesty."

Since he had nothing to pack, he had plenty of time to think while he sat on his bed and stared at the same old wall. If Sébastien decided to try to keep Remus as a slave, or get rid of him in a permanent fashion to have a last bit of revenge for his family, Remus would have to escape.

If needed, he certainly wouldn't be escaping in Soleil. That was silly. He'd have to behave on the way to Arquous and while they traveled back south.

In Midland, he'd see where Sébastien's plans seemed to be going and make his decisions from there. Not having a better sight of the future grated on his nerves.

But he'd waited this long, so he could wait some more.

***

In the morning, he had breakfast. Noel, who took care of things now, took him to the bathing room and didn't use a lead. Remus had hoped for that, and now he was finally getting it.

He was allowed to bathe himself for a damn change. Instead of the usual tunic, he was given proper trousers, boots, a laced shirt, and basic leather armor. When Noel handed him a sword belt, a sword, and a dagger, it almost seemed like a trick.

But when he buckled the belt around his hips and felt the weight of the sword on his left side, Noel didn't say, "Just kidding," or demand it back. For a moment, he could almost believe he was back home and ready to go about his day like before.

Noel brought him outside where everyone who was going was already preparing to leave. Horses were being saddled, and someone was checking the wagons and boxcarts full of supplies.

"I gathered some things for you," Noel said once they stopped by a horse that would be Remus's for the journey. "Sleep clothes, extra shirts. Things like that. You'll find your pack in the boxcart with Sébastien's trunk."

"Thanks," said Remus.

"Maxime says to keep him safe," Noel whispered before he headed back inside.

Remus watched him go before swinging himself up onto his horse. The temptation to kick it into a gallop and flee the damn place crept up on him. No matter what he wore, the collar and cuffs still marked and reminded him.

Would the Prince truly let him earn their freedom? Could this all end with them both on their thrones and a real peace between them?

He was still Giorgio's son.

The yard was a mess with soldiers checking tack, courtiers watching, and servants loading last-minute things. About fifty would be accompanying the Prince. Most were on the younger side. After a war, there's often an influx of new men who were too young to join before, and they come on to take the positions of those who died. Remus would have preferred older guards. Quite a few didn't even look old enough to have had their first shave.

A young man of barely twenty snapped at another who was much older, and Remus guided his horse over to Tom. "Who's that?"

Tom scowled and turned his head away. "The young one? That's Commander Alger."

"The Regent made someone that young the Commander of the Palace guards?"

"No." Tom shifted in his saddle and leaned over. "He's leading this group for the Prince."

Remus raised an eyebrow. Of course, the Prince was truly in charge, but they'd have someone to worry about the basics so Sébastien didn't have to trouble himself so much.

"Commander Alger is…" Tom blinked. "Er, he's a decent fighter for his age."

"That's it?"

Tom shrugged.

Remus eyed Commander Alger who was swaggering over to his horse. Dear Elira. There was someone whose head was swelling due to a minor position of power. "How old is he? Twenty?"

"He just turned nineteen a few days ago."

"For fuck's sake," mumbled Remus.

"I don't question the Regent's decision," Tom said in a neutral tone.

"Of course not," Remus replied with equal neutrality.

He could already imagine what a disaster this was going to be with someone that young and pompous who was probably more excited about the temporary control instead of how to effectively wield it.

Commander Alger barked an order at the men, and everyone started to line up. Drivers climbed up onto the wagon and boxcart seats while the horses stamped impatiently.

Remus had no idea how the others saw him. He was a slave, so what was he supposed to do? Stick closer to Sébastien? Line up with the rest because he had a sword and technically counted as protection?

He decided to stick with the men. It'd be better if he started acting like them, and if the Prince didn't like it, he could say so. Remus would tell him that being eyed as a spoiled, pampered pet was a bad idea. Besides, he was willing to work and didn't like lolling around while others did tasks.

He ended up in the middle of the second row, and nobody said anything. Sébastien came out with his hair tied back and Corentin alongside him. He handed his pack to a servant to put on the back of his horse. The rest of the court came out to watch.

The Regent told the men to ride with Elira and turned to Sébastien to speak. Remus couldn't hear him. Sébastien's expression remained rather bland as the Regent placed a hand on his head and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. Just like any Soleilian Uncle who hoped for his nephew to have a safe journey.

With the goodbye done, Sébastien mounted his grey charger and lifted a hand at the crowd of courtiers. Goodbyes and well-wishes came as if the courtiers cared.

Without a second glance at his Uncle, Sébastien nudged his horse into a trot. Commander Alger remained a little behind as proper, and the rest followed.

The group left through the gate, and Remus was sure he could feel the Regent's eyes. He hadn't said anything about Remus going with his nephew. It wasn't abnormal for someone to take their slave on a trip, but he had to guess that Remus knew something by then, right? Slaves didn't get swords.

Hooves clomped, and the wagons and boxcarts creaked after them. Before long, Remus could no longer see in the Palace yard. Instead of heading into the city like before, they went the opposite way.

Remus watched the Prince's back which was rigid. Nothing new there. They were leaving one danger and heading to another. Leaving the Regent behind meant nothing.

Still, once the Palace shrunk behind them, Sébastien's back and shoulders eased.