Chapter 78

Arik

"Your father thinks he rules as king here," I snapped at Silas. "Manoeuvring dukes and sisters of the temple." My eyes found Jessalyn's back, it getting smaller and smaller as she walked away and why did that feel like my heart was being ripped out of my chest? Thoughts raced inside my head, trying to find a pretext that would put me legitimately by her side. I was her guard still. I could accompany her to the temple and then make sure… My jaw tightened. "Involving our mate in this bloody process."

"Mate?" Silas nodded as he regarded me steadily. "So you've come to accept that now."

"I always knew at some point Creed would recognise—"

"No." Silas came to stand right in front of me, close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath. "You accept this, accept her." Those keen eyes searched my face. "More than that. It fucking kills you, watching Jessalyn walk away."

It was one of the things I hated and valued about Silas in turns. His mind was as sharp as his damn knives.

"It kills all of us, doesn't it?" If I wanted confirmation I got it then as Roan stared after the princess like a loyal hound might his mistress. "And if we're not bloody careful, your father is going to get Jessalyn killed."

"Or your brother will."

That insolent tone, that intent gaze, my fingers flexed as I fought back the urge to slam my palms into Silas' chest.

"That's why we are supposed to be the ones to put the plan into place," I snapped. "We take on the danger. If one or more of us dies…" Me, I thought furiously. I was the only suitable sacrifice. Every time I let the king take the princess I'd so carefully escorted to the capital, I'd created a blood debt and it would be paid. "It doesn't matter as long as she lives."

"Dear gods." We all turned around to see Desiree there, hand on her hip. "You lot do have it bad. Well, rather than announce to the entirety of Cheapside that you're pining after the king's intended, how about you big strong men make yourselves useful and carry those buckets home for me?"

Action, that was what was needed, even if it was a small one. I nodded curtly and then lifted one, then the other, following Desiree back to her home.

"Mama!"

If I ever wondered what Roan looked like as a child, I could see it in Benny. With a rough shock of blood red hair, the boy came running out the front door of the modest cottage and into his mother's arms.

"And how are you, darling boy?" she asked, frowning as she saw him wipe a smear of snot across his face. "Still sick, I see." She produced a clean handkerchief from her pocket and dampened it in one of the buckets before starting to clean his face. "But did you see who's here?"

"Unca Roan!"

Benny jerked free of his mother's grip before she could finish the job, but Roan didn't seem to care. He swept the young boy up in his arms and then set him on his shoulders.

"How's my Benny boy? Urk!" Benny's hands slapped down on his uncle's throat. "Not so tight, kid. Your uncle still needs to breathe."

The child laughed and loosened his hold.

"Horsey ride, Unca Roan!" Benny cried. "Horsey ride."

It was a strange thing, to feel jealous of a small child, because as Roan cantered around the garden, Desiree complaining about the way he was trampling her flower beds, I watched the entire thing like it was some kind of strange foreign ritual.

There was no one in my life growing up that would've shown me the same kindness, I could admit that without emotion now. My mother had been raised far beyond her expectations, installed as the king's mistress into grand chambers in the palace, but a golden cage is still a cage after all. Kept away from family and friends, she existed to be available for the king's pleasure when it suited him and in some ways I was the same. His blood, his heir—I heard that a lot—but I was not his son. It would've been far more likely that he turn into a crane and fly away than my father treat me to horsey rides on his shoulders and that's what made me turn to Desiree.

I caught her smiling at the two of them, shaking her head at her brother's antics, right as Bill appeared at her shoulder. Even with his crutch tucked up tight under his shoulder, he still tucked his wife into his side after pressing a kiss to her temple. It wasn't hard to change the figures before me, to turn red haired Desiree into blonde Jessalyn, Bill to Roan and for their child… I sucked in a shuddering breath, then another. Would he have Silas' green eyes or Creed's hazel? Would he have red hair, blonde, brown or black? Just not dirty blond like mine. That potential future had me moving, to ensure what we had right now was taken from us.

"Can we talk?" I asked Desiree and Bill.

"What's this about?" Bill asked as he stiffened, all the pleasure fading from his face, his eyes flicking from his son to his wife.

"The Raven is calling in his debts," Desiree admitted.

"Debts? We don't owe that old bastard anything. Never set foot in any of his damned establishments," Bill blustered.

"No, but how'd you think I got that job up in the castle?"

He blinked, staring into Desiree's eyes. "No, Desi, no. You've always made me swear… I never go… I've told the lads over and over I can't meet them for a pint…" The breath seemed to go out of Bill. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"When you had your accident I had to do something. It was either this or be sent to the poor house and live apart as indentured servants." She shook her head sharply. "Little more than slaves and the gods know what would happen to my children." Roan's sister gazed into her husband's eyes. "Our children."

"So that's what you want to talk about?" Bill fixed me in his gaze. "How my bloody wife is going to do the Raven's dirty business?"

"No." I turned to see Silas standing beside me. "How we can take that burden from Desiree, right, brother?"

That resulted in the kettle being put over the fire to boil and tea things produced from the stout wooden cabinets Bill had built early in their marriage. Bread was sliced and slathered thick with butter. It was simple fare, but in Desiree's capable hands the food and drink became as fine as a king's banquet.

"Gods, how do I forget how good your bread is," Silas groaned after biting down into his slice.

"Don't know how." Roan appeared, snatching Silas' slice from his fingers to the sound of the other man's frustrated growl. "She was always a dab hand in the kitchen."

"Dab hand…" Silas snorted. "If you set yourself up a bakery on the high street you'd have half the city at your door every morning, perhaps more."

"And where's the coin for that to come from?" Desiree said, returning with more bread, handing Silas a new slice, then one for Benny and Roan, when the warrior started to complain. "Your father? Don't worry, he already made me an offer he made clear I shouldn't refuse, but I did."

"So instead you cook for the king and the Raven will make use of you there?" I said.

"Who's the raven?" Benny asked, looking up wide eyed, pausing as he went to stuff his mouth with bread.

"Just a nasty bird," Desi replied. "One that has its beak in everything, peck, peck, pecking away." She turned her fingers to a beak and used them to poke him in the ribs until the child started to giggle. "Now, rouse that sister of yours out of her book. Genny?"

A rustle from the other room produced an older girl with Bill's much more muted colouring and nature. She blinked owlishly in the doorway, regarding the lot of us. "I've got a couple of coins spare. Take your brother down to the markets and get him some sweets." But before she could hand over her hard earned money, I'd pulled a gold coin from my belt and flipped it through the air.

Genny was quiet and bookish, but she was still a child of Cheapside. She saw the gold coin and moved forward, catching it neatly before it landed on the ground.

"This would buy enough sweeties to last us a week, maybe more," Genny said, inspecting the coin, before biting the edge to make sure the gold was pure.

"Hand it back," Desiree said, frowning at me.

"Consider it an investment," I replied. I didn't have coffers of gold like my brother, but I did have my own stash and now was the time to put it to use. "All of this." I plonked the bag of gold coins I carried on my belt onto the table. "You'll get that bakery, Desiree, and more besides, if we can work together."

I was careful with my money, stashing what wages I earned and spoils of war I gathered for emergencies. Well, what was this? Roan frowned as he stared at the gold, then at me, no doubt wondering where the hell it came from. I'd answer his questions later. Bill and Desiree just stared at the pouch and then she turned to Genny.

"I'll make you a list of things to get."

"But muuum…" Benny whined. "Sweeties!"

"You'll get enough sweeties to make you thoroughly sick if the two of you do as you're bid," she promised, scribbling down her shopping list on a tattered piece of parchment before handing it over to her daughter. "Everything on the list and don't let the shopkeeper rob you. Watch the grocer's thumb. He loves to put it on the scale and charge you for more than you're actually getting."

Genny nodded, her keen mind taking in every instruction before she moved to bundle Benny up in his coat. One of Genny's from when she was a little girl, I remembered it well and shook my head. We should've been providing them with new coats, new boots… I swallowed. If this plan went ahead, they'd have everything they needed. We all would.

Desiree waited for the sound of the front gate clattering shut before turning to me.

"Every offer comes at a price. I heard the Raven's out before I politely declined. I'll do the same to you, Arik, unless I hear something worth accepting."

"Do as the Raven asked," I said. "Add the slow acting poisons to the food, the hallucinogens. The Raven will be satisfied you've paid your debt then."

"Any reason why I should let you sit at my table, proposing my wife commit treason?" Bill's elbows hit the table top.

"If I could avoid it…"

My eyes found Silas' then Roan's across the table, remembering the meeting with the border lords.

"The Duke of Fallspire's plan…" Silas said. "It was meant to be a feint, but what if it succeeded?" He turned to Bill. "You like to frequent the race tracks."

"Only to watch the nags race." He flushed, then shot Desiree a guilty look. "We don't have money to waste on gambling."

"I know my father fixes races, manipulates the results, but he's never bothered to teach me how," Silas said. "What mechanisms do they use to spur a slow horse to run faster, one that might result in them running out of control?"

Bill sighed, then shook his head.

"Depends. Do you want the horse and rider to survive it?"

"No," I replied, "we don't."