Reading back this story for editing purposes is so fun because I can relive my thought process when I was just making shit up as I went and being like "Ya know actually this kinda sounds smart" and I kept writing. Like man, this story was just HAPPENING somehow and I was just along for the ride, putting it on paper (metaphorically).

I don't know if it's shown up already or when it will show up in the future, but I indeed copied many scenes word-for-word from the book - as I do with all my fanfiction stories, if you've somehow read anything else on my page. This means that while I, 'Murican from the good ole US of A, write my original parts in American English, while this story is written in the Everywhere-But-America English. This upsets my spell-checker, who keeps trying to tell me that I'm spelling "armour" and "manoeuvres" wrong. I like screwing with my spell-checker, however, so I shall breed this chaos with glee. Honestly, a good description of everything this story has become.

I forgot about the horse being the inciting incident.

It was a single, lone, abandoned horse. Not from the riders that Laurent sent out to report what happened to Govart. This horse was a messenger from beforehand. This was a messenger sent to communicate with Laurent's most dangerous ally — Nikandros of Akielos.

It was simple, in hindsight, but the first time you experienced the situation, it was a bit difficult to follow. The reason Laurent wanted to go after this lead alone was because he was committing a serious act of betrayal by sending this messenger. Having an alliance with Vask and Patras was one thing. They were on the sidelines in this war, but Akielos was a personal matter. The battle over Delpha took Vere's king and eldest heir.

Not only was Laurent falling in love with Damen — his brother's killer, the king of Akielos — bad, but he was already working with Akielon forces in the meantime. It made sense, though. Nikandros had been known to be loyal to Prince Damianos, and all Laurent had to do was dangle the potential evidence that Kastor had gotten the rightful heir and the king killed to usurp the throne, and he would have his first Akielon allies. Allies from every nation behind him, even just a portion of them. Laurent was going big, all in the shadows and behind the scenes.

If someone had intercepted the messenger who knew he was trying to bargain with Akielos, Laurent's entire plan would come crashing down. It would be seen as treachery, he would lose any and all leverage, and have given his uncle the perfect excuse to turn even his most loyal followers against him. No one could see a future where Vere and Akielos worked together, because right now there wasn't a common threat to unite against.

The lengths Laurent had had to go to in the third book just to get his own Veretian troops and Damen's few Akielon troops to work together was just a fraction of both of the kingdoms as a whole — it was the warriors. It was those who had fought and seen the destruction from the other sides, and but also the men who had seen their leaders in action and knew exactly why they were following their kings. This book and campaign was about Laurent proving himself capable of being a brilliant leader. Damen didn't have to prove himself as a fighter and king, but he did have to prove that Laurent was a trustworthy ally and that their personal feelings weren't clouding their judgment.

If things hadn't worked out between Damen and Laurent and their relationship had remained allies at best, Laurent would have been capable of taking everything he wanted from Damen. The plan before they had fallen in love was for Laurent to take Delpha back after it was lost during the war and Marlas. No one in Akielos would have been happy about it, but he had engineered a situation where Damen would be forced to comply even if he didn't love Laurent.

The thing is, in Kings Rising, regardless of how willing they both were, the idea that their alliance was more political than personal was key to their success. It was going to take more than just the kings getting along to settle things between Vere and Akielos. It was going to take the people accepting them first and foremost, so that when they took their thrones, all followed the alliance willingly.

Right now, taking that lost messanger's place to intercept the contact from Akielos — further, keeping him from being caught — was paramount. It couldn't be easy for Laurent to have found a messenger so loyal that they were willingly risking taking the offer of an alliance between the Prince of Vere and Nikandros of Akielos across the border — these very risks were the reason they were so valuable. Laurent had bought time at Nesson both to get his own troops in order as well as give the messengers time to rendezvous, and then find Nikandros for the offer. Laurent probably didn't expect Nikandros to risk sending a response; Laurent would know when they reached the border and Nikandros brought his troops to Ravenel…or he didn't.

But curiosity would drive him to be there even if he didn't like Laurent and eventually decided to say no. If Nikandros got the message with Laurent's bait, there was little chance he wouldn't bite. A bite was all Laurent needed, knowing Damen would be there to intercept Nikandros when the time came.

It occurred to me that Laurent never intended to bargain with Nikandros alone; he had sent out the messenger only when they'd left Arles and even after Chastillon — when he'd had his first late-night discussions with Damen and learned how useful he would be. How good his advice was. The horse had been sent to Nikandros from that other place, between here and Nesson. Bordeaux (Damen would later correct me, "I'm assuming you mean, Baillieux"). Laurent knew Damen would need his most loyal followers and the troops behind him when he reached the border and crossed back into Akielos. That's why he was risking this. He wanted to use Damen for his own benefit, of course, but in its own way, it was sweet.

And if I didn't know Laurent was a character from a book whose plot and plan were meticulously calculated, I would have been terrified of his forward thinking.

"Why send the horse as a message?"

"The messenger was intercepted before he could reach his contact," Damen explained. "They need Laurent to attempt to meet whoever the messenger was hoping to find, in order to draw them both into an ambush."

"In town," I followed. "Perfect place for any number of attacks."

Damen was stewing in thoughts, his own questions that he knew neither Laurent nor I was obligated to answer. "I know of your position, and my own, but answer me this if possible: is this meeting truly so important that Laurent must handle it personally?"

"Yes. Absolutely and entirely."

Damen shifted. He was getting better at not showing his reactions to my words on his face. In his own way, he was beginning to reflect Laurent. "Can I trust you to look after the camp while we are away?"

I helped Damen tie the Veretian noble clothing with all its laces. It was apparently still riding clothes, not court clothes, but that made little difference when you weren't used to Veretian style in the first place. Laurent wanted him to look like a lord of some kind, at least from a distance…in the dark…for at least a little while for those who didn't ask questions. While I didn't think it sounded like a good idea on paper since Damen was as Akielon as it got, I knew it would go over well.

Putting on Veretian clothing was difficult, which is why Laurent needed someone to attend to him — as Damen was learning the hard way. Not that I knew anything about attending someone, but my fingers were tinier and my hands steady, so I laced up the sleeves as I would lace up a tennis shoe.

"If you mean that you think someone wants to launch a simultaneous attack — one against Laurent while he is meeting his contact and one against the troops while he is away, you're correct. But they won't need me. Two weeks ago, the Regent's men would have eagerly let this troop burn. Now, they are a single functioning unit rather than a collection of disparate parts. We will be fine. Laurent will not make it without you."

This time, Damen couldn't hide his reaction to the blunt statement. Laurent was in real danger, to the point that I wouldn't sugarcoat or obfuscate the message: this wasn't just some mild diversion. It was their first date!

I smoothed down the fabrics as Damen stood up at his full height. While it might not have suited him, Laurent would probably feel mixed about seeing Damen in his people's clothing. I was beginning to learn that every time Pacat mentioned Laurent's intolerant gaze, it was a hint that Laurent was looking — and he didn't like that he liked what he was seeing.

"I will ensure the troops are prepared as best I can. Go. You will ensure we learn the enemy's plans while you're out. I can't do everything for you, you know."

Jord had been ordered by Laurent to listen to anything I had to say. I'd have been honored if Jord didn't look at me with as much suspicion as he held for Damen during the early days.

I wasn't quite sure what to say to Jord. While Laurent and Damen were away, he was the acting authority. By this point, I think Jord had finally started sleeping with Aimeric, which was always fun. If Aimeric was indeed savage enough, he would be trying to make Jord doubt my intentions after I whacked him almost hard enough to give him a concussion.

Thanks to the books being in Damen's POV, I had no idea how the attack would happen, where it would begin. I just knew one thing: Aimeric was going to kill Orlant for learning something.

I found Orlant around the camp during dinner. The men were settling into the routine of eating around dusk, taking up guard duty even though they didn't technically need it yet. The guard mostly just sat in a ring around the camp where the rest of the men came and went with conversations. It wasn't ideal, but for the time in Nesson and after they'd managed to somewhat make progress as a unit, it could be forgiven for now.

"Here." I passed Orlant a skin filled with the crude wine.

"What's this? Poison?"

"All alcohol is poison, in my opinion, and yet people drink the shit anyway."

Orlant didn't deny it and poured it into the flimsy tin cup before taking a drink. "What do you want?"

"Just to give you a warning. Be careful with Aimeric. He goes around picking fights, and when the fights stop he starts making eyes at the new Captain."

"And you're telling me this why?"

"Because Prince Laurent trusts you, and like I said, Aimeric's moving in on the Captain so Jord is not who I can speak to."

"And what exactly are you to the prince?"

I shrugged. "Someone with important information who he is willing to keep around. I want to see Prince Laurent win, and I think he's capable. But I also think he needs good men behind him."

Orlant scoffed and took another drink. Before either of us could continue, Jord had approached and tapped me on the shoulder. "You've been summoned."

"Summoned?"

"The horses."

But that's where Damen and Laurent were. Unless someone else was planning on ambushing me. But this was Jord we were talking about. He wouldn't be so serious and vague if the order hadn't come from Laurent himself (and maybe Damen, though I wasn't quite sure how close they were just yet).

I headed over to what had become the stables in the temporary camp, glancing around carefully to find it was indeed the main boys in their riding leathers and silks. Laurent was tending to his horse, while Damen had already mounted and was ready to go. So clearly Laurent had been the one to summon me, since he was waiting patiently. Way too patiently for someone who should be on an urgent mission to find a very important messenger.

"You summoned me?" I announced.

Laurent had obviously heard my approach, despite me being quite light on my feet. I'd grown up with a Chihuahua as a child, who would bark his brains out when I snuck from the living room into my room, past my mother's where the dogs slept. I had learned to be quiet and sneaky.

"You're not staying here. Grab a scabbard."

"A scabbard?"

"And a sword to put in it," he clarified, in that tone that said he hated having to clarify.

I decided asking why was only going to make him upset, so I snuck over to the armory and found a scabbard. I was too small to put one around my waist and stick a sword in there; any normal broadsword would be dragging against the ground. Percy Jackson, I was not. Maybe they had some xiphos blades in Akielos.

That just left the blades that I would put on a sheath cross-body — which I also had no experience with. Thanks to rounds with Damen, I knew where to find some smaller stabbing knives, and grabbed one of those for my belts as well. Being the paranoid person I was, I grabbed another to have a backup.

By the time I returned, Laurent was mounted on his horse as well, and both were still waiting impatiently.

"Get on." Laurent nodded towards Damen.

"Do I need to ask why I have to join you?"

"You know why I have to go, you will help ensure I make it."

"If everything goes right, you shouldn't need me."

"Is this the time to take that risk?"

"Fair enough."

Damen was resisting saying anything as he helped me up behind him.

The official name of the town was Nesson-Eloy. The trip there was uneventful, but I was surprised to learn that when we tied off the horses, we expected then to be stolen by the time we got back. Human nature. I guess horse-stealing was just how people got around. It was the reason Laurent's royal messenger horses had to be branded, so people would know who it belonged to — and to put their own brand over it when they saw the quality of the horse they'd found. All the more suspicious when Laurent's messenger piebald had returned, robbed of bridle and saddle but the valuable horse itself sent as a message.

It was necessary to leave them, however. The streets were paved, the houses built close together in the mountain-side town. We didn't want to be clopping around, waking the world.

Laurent knew the place since it was apparently a common stopping point between Arles and Acquitart. He kept us going through smaller streets and unlit passageways. Of course, it didn't do us good for long, since we were inevitably being followed. It was just a matter of when the boys wanted to do something about it.

"If we're being followed, they don't know where we're going," Laurent said, wise as ever.

"It's too dark and silent for us to lose them with cat and mouse games," I said. "We need somewhere to go inside — after some more complicated turns."

"You know where we can shake them," he accused.

"Just try Damen's trick."

"My trick?" He frowned.

Laurent pressed on with new determination. He knew exactly where we were going now. Laurent didn't waste time on the failed detours he might've taken in the book. We made a few extra turns, but otherwise Laurent was heading in a mostly straight direction.

He paused in front of a door with some circular symbol painted on the front. He raised his fist and knocked before saying towards Damen, "I assume that's right? I have no idea how one usually proceeds. This is your arena, not mine."

"Of all the things for you to admit your honest ineptitude," I sighed. "Coin. Coin."

Laurent flashed a gold coin when the viewing slit opened. Just like the classic clandestine meetings on TV, the slit opened, coin was shown, it slammed closed, the bolts on the door could be heard unlocking. I had not anticipated visiting a brothel in this world, but I couldn't wait to see how we left it. Though I did feel bad that we were doing to destroy their property. It'd all be worth it to see Laurent's face in the fateful moment, though.

"This is not my arena," Damen said as we were allowed inside.

I nearly sneezed at the smell of what had to be chalis. I missed home, where I carried around a mask at all times after a pandemic which I still used for when I was sick or when there was ash in the air from a local wildfire — or just high winds, since I had a bit of a breathing problem thanks to mucus and medical shit.

Laurent was remaining cool as always, claiming one of the empty couches while Damen sat more gingerly on the end. I knew we would be safe here, but had to be careful how I sat with my weapons, so I looked just about as awkward as him as I moved to just stand beside him at attention.

The thing about brothels, not only were they pretty risqué or whatever, but for Veretians, the idea of anyone sleeping with the opposite sex was a big scandal. The potential for bastard children was a big thing, especially if you held any sort of status. If someone recognized Laurent as the prince, then it was even more scandalous — as a prince held even more reputation on the line. Damen's presence, then, was essential for those who suspected he already had a male companion and was just here to watch.

Good thing about being asexual: most sex acts and suggestions of sex were mostly just an annoyance to me. Bad thing about being asexual: most sex acts and suggestions of sex were an annoyance to me. I hoped my unimpressed face didn't look too disgusted — but Laurent was the patron, and he was better at holding his character.

Which was probably why he was enjoying it when he ordered one of the blonde women to attach herself to Damen, and Damen looked more than a little disturbed. Damen preferred women, I recalled, though the Akielon culture was as bisexual as the Greeks were. The blonde recognized his golden collar, which gave away that he was a slave — or a "pet", in Veretian terms.

Before they had to continue down that path, the Maitresse who was in charge came to save them, allowing Laurent to make his demands. As if he wouldn't be recognized, especially considering how long Laurent's party had been staying at the Nesson keep. The other women were actually surprised though, and the rest of the girls began prostrating themselves before their prince.

"My slave and I want a private room," Laurent said, "at the back of the house. Something with a bed, and a latch on the door, and a window. We do not require company. If you try to send in one of your girls, you will find out the hard way that I don't like sharing."

"And your guard, Your Highness?"

"She will have a room adjacent. Whom you give her is your choice."

I didn't try to hide my annoyance. I wouldn't get to see Laurent's stunned face as Damen fucking ripped a hole in the plaster!

As the Maitresse bowed her head and guided us with a taper candle to the back of the old house, I leaned in to whisper, "At least give them coin for their trouble."

"It is their duty to serve their prince," Laurent said in his normal speaking volume.

"It is a prince's duty to serve his people," I snapped back.

In the end, Laurent tossed the gold coin he'd flashed before at the Maitresse before he and Damen disappeared into their room. She nearly fumbled it in surprise before tightening her fist around it and guiding me to the adjacent room. This one also had a lock, and though I didn't want to use it to lock the girls out of their own room, I threw it in place anyway before heading to the window.

Small was how Damen had described the window in the book. Bolted into the plaster. Grillework. The kind of stuff made to have a design. Nothing someone was going to be able to slip through, not even tiny little me.

Ugh! That was the problem with fanart! I had expected bars.

I drew one of my knives and pulled the low cushioned chest over so I would be tall enough to reach it. The plaster was old. With a stab and a little wiggle, I was able to chip away at it.

Then, I realized the problem was much simpler than that. A tiny lock for a tiny key, little hinges built into the design of the grille. This was meant to be opened. No way Laurent predicted that.

I tugged on my necklace, where I had placed the small tools Laurent had procured for me. Just slide the little thin metal into place, lever the small hook on the end at the right angle…I had to twist it round to find the latch, and…click. The grille pulled inwards with the groan of rusted hinges. Whoever had the key for this, they must've lost it a long time ago.

I removed the sword from my back and slid it through the opening, using the strap to lower it down as far as I could before having to drop it. Though I knew our pursuers weren't surrounding the house, being quiet was still a priority — tempting as it was to yeet all my belongings out at once. The opening was more than enough to accommodate my small size, but I had forgotten that two weeks of solid training holding swords meant for men twice my size and doing drills on foot and on horseback had given me a new body. It wasn't significant or anything, but I had to relax my muscle more than anticipated to slide my torso through, get up into a sitting position, flex so I could get one leg through without falling, then the other, and then turn, grab the ledge, and fall to the ground on the other side.

I had intended to unlock the door before I left so the brothel wouldn't be inconvenienced. Whoops. Now I was even more grateful that I forced Laurent to pay them for the damages that were to come.

I moved next door to where Laurent and Damen were, strapping my sword on again while I heard Damen doing his first few tugs on the grille. Turns out, I had made it just in time, because I nearly smacked myself while dropping the scabbard over my head when the whole grille was pulled inwards from the window, revealing Damen staggering slightly from the weight.

I got what I'd been waiting for: Laurent's wide eyes as he watched Damen using the thick carpet to muffle the sound of placing the grille on the floor. By the time Damen stood straight again, Laurent had schooled his features from shock to neutral observation, but he was still staring nonetheless.

"After you," Damen said.

Laurent almost said something, but reconsidered. He just nodded and pulled himself through the window, dropping soundlessly into the alley behind the brothel beside me. Damen followed moments later.

"Told you," I murmured.

"It will cover the damages," he conceded, keeping his voice barely a whisper now so that even Damen couldn't hear. "Don't expect any thanks for your actions."

"I expect your thanks comes in many forms, Your Highness."

We stayed in the shadows as we moved, found a dank space between two houses to push through, and then went down a short series of steps. No faint footsteps followed us anymore. The pursuers hadn't flanked the house.

As predicted, we had lost them.

I tugged at my necklaces, pulling the one with my big ring out. I shuffled around the rings on my fingers, taking off the golden one with six gems (one for each color of the rainbow) that belonged to my mother and my grandmother before her. The rest were just bands that I wore to play with, but this was the only one that I couldn't afford to lose. I swapped it out with the big thick ring on my necklace — an old ring from my other grandmother who I hadn't known as well. Her cat hated me. We had an agreement to disagree. It was still a pretty ring though, lined with gold starfish-like patterns and an iridescent sheen between each of them, as if to mimic the sea.

I put the ring on my thumb, which now had enough of a callous to at least not drop the size six immediately, but I'd have to use friction to keep it in place. For good measure, I also took off the smooth gray band that was my favorite to spin on my index because it had no decals, no gems, no engravings — just the smoothest piece of Tungsten you'd ever see. It was also my favorite, so I put it on the chain too. Luckily I wore a second smaller, less sleek but still nice silver band beside it, a smaller size to hold it in place, so the indent on my finger where the ring used to be didn't look like it came from nowhere.

"What in the world are you doing?" Damen sighed.

"Being paranoid," I confessed.

Laurent tossed Damen his coin purse. "As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. It's better if we're not recognized. You should do up the collar on your jacket."

"I'm not the one who has to hide his identity," Damen said, though he obliged and laced his jacket closed. "It's not just the streetwalkers who know you're camped at the keep. Anyone seeing a young blond man of noble birth is going to guess it's you."

"Then it's a good thing I brought a disguise."

"A disguise." It wasn't quite a question, but Damen glanced quizzically in my direction.

I shrugged. "His plan, not mine." It was technically true.

When we reached the inn, Damen was looking around for a place where Laurent could possibly change into a disguise. Instead, Laurent dug out a small, glittering trinket from the folds of his clothing.

"After you," Laurent said, affixing the long hanging sapphires of Nicaise's earring into place. "Do you understand me?"

He was almost hissing the words at me, though his tone remained neutral. It took a moment for me to realize he was speaking in another language, and my auto-translation was slowly compensating.

"Yes?" I would need more practice in the language before it became as natural as Veretian and Akielon, but I could indeed understand him with the same dyslexic method of knowing the language without knowing it. "Wait, is this Vaskian?"

He nodded and continued in the third dialect, which was already sounding slightly more natural. "You might need it. Work on it."

"I can't just — ugh." Damen had already pushed his way into the inn and Laurent followed, changing his mannerisms only slightly, but enough to notice for those who actually knew him.

The languid air of arrogance relaxed only slightly into the calm assuredness of a pet. While he was technically owned by a master, he was worth more than this entire inn. I thought about how Damen's treatment in Arles had been an outlier; pets were not slaves, not quite. Slaves from Akielos were happy to serve, born and raised for it, in exchange for being taken care of. Pets in Vere had to earn their value, often through showmanship and sexual appeal. They were "owned", but in a way they always had power in the relationship — if they were doing it right.

Laurent's royal upbringing had obviously taught him to be slightly arrogant, but more than that, he had learned to act the part a long time ago. Because it wasn't who he really was. The highborn dismissiveness of those beneath him was something practiced and learned, and so it wasn't hard to shift it to act like a pet as well. Acting was arguably Laurent's greatest strength, especially when it fit the mold of the part he had been playing for upwards of five or six years now, against the careful eye of his uncle.

This place was much more lively than the brothel — and much easier to breathe in. Voices, music, the smell of roasting meat and candle smoke.

The innkeeper gave barely a brief, dismissive glance at Laurent, gave a succinct nod to me, and then turned his full attention on Damen. "Welcome, my lord. Will you, your companion, and your pet require lodgings for the evening?"

"I want your best room," Laurent announced, putting more emphasis on his haughty tone than normal, but still fundamentally sounding like himself, "with a big bed and a private bath, and if you send up the house boy, you'll find out the hard way that I don't like sharing."

That was the second time this evening Laurent used that wording, 'You'll find out the hard way that I don't like sharing.' I briefly wondered if it was actually Laurent who spoke that way for some specific reason, having heard it times before, or if Pacat hadn't realized the repetitiveness. I did that too, writing the same phrasing over and over again just because it was part of my vernacular.

"He's expensive, you'll find," I said, trying to use the new Vaskian language before swapping to Veretian again. "You Veretians and your pets are so amusing." I aimed the comment towards Damen.

My hunch was correct — that Nesson-Eloy, being so close to the Vaskian border, meant the innkeeper recognized the language. He sized up the situation: Laurent's clothes, his sapphire earring (a royal gift to a favorite), and the likely cost of Laurent himself, the face, the body. Damen was seen as some important figure from Arles, only at this lowly tavern to meet with some woman from Vask near the border so they could be on equal enough grounds.

Damen would be charged three times the going rate for everything. But he would find humor in being generous with Laurent's coin.

"Why don't you find us a table? Pet." Damen was enjoying the nickname (or "sobriquet", as the book taught me was a fancy word for it) a little too much.

Laurent did as directed, and I followed behind while Damen paid for the room. He guided me towards the best table in the room — close to the fire to enjoy its warmth, but not so close as to be overwhelmed by the scent of the slow-roasting venison. It was already occupied, but Laurent cleared it with nothing but his coy smile and a simple, "Move."

The former occupants had long since seen Laurent's approach and already seemed prepared before he'd given the command. Pet dynamics in Vere were still so confounding. Laurent wasn't really disguising himself, attracting the eye of every man in the common room, but his cool-eyed arrogance proclaimed that no one could touch him. The earring he wore said one man could. It transformed him from unattainable to exclusive, an elite pleasure here no one could afford.

I sat across from Laurent on one of the long benches to give us even spacing along the table, and Damen chose to sit across from him as well at my side. It seemed Damen wasn't too keen to be close to Laurent when he was like this, too afraid to shatter the illusion.

"What now?" Damen asked.

"Now we wait." Laurent eyed me and flicked his gaze to the side.

The two of us stood and swapped positions, with Laurent making his way around the table to sit beside Damen, close as a lover. He frowned over at me, but I shrugged and swapped to Vaskian for more practice, "His plan, not mine."

"What are you doing?"

"Verisimilitude," Laurent said, which made me smile. Thankfully, I already knew that word from Sanders Sides before I ever read the books. Thank you Logan. "I'm glad I brought you along. I wasn't expecting to have to tear things out of walls. Do you visit brothels often?"

"No."

"Not brothels. Camp followers? Slaves," he guessed, and Laurent got a satisfying answer from Damen's reaction. "Akielos, the garden of delights. So you enjoy slavery in others. Just not in yourself."

Damen shifted slightly along the bench.

"Don't strain yourself," Laurent said.

"You talk more," Damen said, "when you're uncomfortable."

Aw. How cute.

"My lord." The innkeeper approached. Damen reacted, Laurent did not — not even on instinct. "Your room will be ready shortly. The third door at the top of the stairs. Jehan will bring you wine and food while you wait."

"We'll entertain ourselves," I assured him.

"Who's that?" Laurent announced. He was looking across the room at an older man with the dirty woolley cap Laurent would end the night with. Part of me, seeing it, thought Laurent lucky he didn't receive a disease from putting that thing on.

"That's Volo. Don't play him. He's a man with a thirst. He won't take more than a night to drink your coins, your jewels and your jacket." With that advice given, the innkeeper retreated.

"And where there's trouble, of course there's intrigue," I murmured, still in Vask.

Laurent eyed Volo the same as he did women from the brothel, which was hard to actually pin down as anything positive. It wasn't made explicit, but I'm pretty sure Laurent was implied to be completely gay. Gayer than a maypole, that one. I mean, not very happy right now, but at heart he is. He's a man who just wants to be the kid he had been before Auguste died. That boy is gone, but who he should have grown into is perhaps still in there. Damen would one day make a world where it was safe for him to come back out without fear of being hurt.

"All right. Give me some coin. I want to play that man at cards."

"And there he goes," I murmured, still in Vaskian.

Laurent rose, leaning his weight against the table. Damen reached for the purse, then paused. "Aren't you supposed to earn gifts with service?"

"Is there something you want?" Laurent asked, his voice obviously laced with a tantalizing promise. His gaze was steady, knowing he was going to make Damen uncomfortable and reveling in it. I wondered if this was when Laurent decided he might try seducing Damen into compliance, falsely with ulterior motives, before he ever thought it could be real.

Damen, who preferred not to be eviscerated, tossed Laurent the coin purse. Laurent caught it in one hand, and took a handful of copper and silver, before tossing it back and making his way over to sit across from Volo.

"Doing okay?" I asked Damen, swapping back to Veretian.

"He's unpredictable at the best of times," Damen complained, unable to avoid sneaking glances at Laurent while pretending to have a conversation with me.

"Agreed. Even knowing things about him doesn't equate to seeing him in action. Here's a thought nugget — why go to the effort of making me seem Vaskian? If word of our presence here does reach the Regent's men, rumor will begin that the Prince of Vere is making some alliance or otherwise with Vask. Combine that with the obvious rumors that he has an Akielon slave who might pull his sympathies towards Akielos, and suddenly Laurent seems evermore traitorous…or evermore dangerous."

Damen huffed, like he was finally getting used to Laurent bringing trouble to him if it might allow him to conquer it faster. "It's always a game in Vere."

"And Laurent likes learning new tricks. Anything he can use, he will. Whatever might the Prince get up to, I wonder?"

"You know exactly what he'll get up to." It almost sounded like an accusation.

"I know what he'll get up to in a world where I was never a factor. He also brought me along with you, when I told him you could endure with just the two of you. He tempts fate more than once before our very eyes."

Laurent was losing and enjoying it over with Volo. That was how Laurent liked it: whenever he walked into a situation he knew he would lose, he always bet what he could afford to lose, and let everyone think he was defeated — even as he won something that none of them predicted he would get out of such an encounter.

"Invite someone else over," I said, recalling what else needed to happen tonight.

"What? Why?"

"You need to meet new people. You know, Laurent doesn't ask so many questions to an Oracle."

"He's too prideful to admit he doesn't understand something. What did you tell him to get him to trust you so easily?" Damen asked, knowing he probably wouldn't get an answer. That much was clear.

"Enough. But you and I both know Laurent doesn't trust easily. I wonder if you comprehend just how much he already trusts you."

Deciding Damen needed to be alone for the excuse to call someone else over, I rose and joined Laurent with Volo. Laurent had already lost most of his coin, but appeared to be having a good time nonetheless.

"Ah, but I have nothing to give," I told them, when they invited me to play, "nor do I know the rules of your game."

"Maybe naught in coin, but perhaps in possession." Volo lowered his gaze and referred to the ring on my finger. "Bit big for you, eh love?"

"A gift, from a bigger finger." I twisted it round my thumb with the side of my index, trying to pause long enough in consideration to make it believable. "How about this? A bet not in coin, a prize not in coin. I play the ring, you teach me the sleight of hand."

I removed the ring and handed it to Laurent instead of setting it in the betting pool. He twisted it between his fingers, then set it upon the table. "Game."

By the time Volo had been utterly charmed by Laurent and bought a round of drinks (along with the house boy), we returned to find Damen — who had successfully chatted up Charls, the Veretian Cloth Merchant. Merchants were powerful, traveling all around, learning all of trade and politics. Charls already trusted the Prince more than he did the Regent, and nor did he trust the bastard king Kastor.

It must've been very difficult for Kastor, I thought to myself randomly. It was not his fault he was born from a mistress rather than the queen. He was elder, and so for a time he was destined to be king. To be immediately cast aside by another, to be surpassed by a child simply because he was born…well, in another story Kastor might have been a protagonist.

But in this case, birth still did not define one. Kastor may have been a bastard child, but for a time he might have had a happy future. It was still his decision to choose a throne over his brother, over his father, over everyone.

I still think it was the Regent who had gotten to him — how would Kastor think up a plan so vile as to poison the king slowly? To make it seem natural. In Akielos, things were done quickly. Kastor played the game like a Veretian: he won subtly, made it seem legitimate on the surface to keep the hearts of his people behind him. No one would accept him if they knew he had outright killed the king in cold blood (and maybe even Damianos, beloved as he was). Though he would technically be legitimate, uprisings would destabilize his rule rather quickly.

The Regent's men had helped him take Akielos. I'm certain the Regent needed only to plant the idea of rebellion and kingship into Kastor's delicate mind, exaggerate the feelings of betrayal and abandonment that had always been bubbling beneath the surface, and encouraged him to act upon it. And once it was done, Kastor could never go back. He could never be forgiven, nor could his own pride ever try going back to being the second best — as Damen had tried to offer him in those final moments. In a way, Kastor needed to die for his own freedom as well, to redeem himself and be honored in death by Damen. It was the only way for him to be loved as he'd hoped, without those feelings of resentment tormenting him from within forever.

Damen had saved enough of the best cuts of meat, having given some to Charls as well. Turns out, as the trading partner of a significant merchant family, Charls had the second best standing in the inn, so he deserved it, honestly. Charls would forever be a gem in this world.

The patrons, including Charls, were thinning out and turning in by the time we returned. Laurent set his drink, untouched in front of Damen. I took a few painful sips, but it was no better than any other alcohol I'd had.

"Spoils of someone else's victory," Laurent said.

"If you wanted a drink and an old hat that badly, you could have just bought them from him. Cheaper and quicker."

"It's the game I like." Laurent flicked his wrist, causing a coin to fall from his sleeve into his fingers. He held it up, revealing it was actually my thick ring that Volo had technically won. "I've learned a few new tricks."

He palmed it in a dramatic show, opening his hand and revealing his hand was empty, as if by magic. A second later, the ring dropped out of his sleeve onto the floor. Laurent frowned down as I reached down to retrieve it.

"Well, I don't have it quite yet. But I managed it when it mattered."

"If the trick is making coins disappear, I think you do have it, actually," Damen pointed out.

I reached over to grab some of the remaining meat cuts while Laurent took the opportunity to play with Damen again. To give him credit, Damen managed to hold Laurent's dangerous gaze even as Laurent made a pet production out of getting Damen to feed him some of the bread. Laurent didn't make a sexual show out of accepting the bread, and yet it was something horribly intimate between Damen who should've been beneath Laurent.

The unnerving balance between them truly was astounding. Damen was a stronger, older king. Laurent was a smarter, sly king. Damen was a slave to Laurent. Laurent was falling slave to his blooming feelings for Damen. Damen held over Laurent the secret of who he truly was. Laurent held over Damen the secret that he already knew.

How had the book described it? Like feeding a predator. Like being in the presence of a viper, the snake could relax, you could not.

Poor Damen.

He seemed to be using the sapphire earring as an excuse. A lovely illusion drawing him in, fighting off the idea that perhaps he might actually find Laurent attractive without it, when he was not acting as a pet did. Because nothing in Vere was as it seemed — Laurent especially. How could he trust his own feelings about Laurent when he could never be sure of anything surrounding the mysterious prince?

Laurent, who turned a teasing comment from Damen to suggest Laurent eat from his hand like a pet while they were undercover, and turned it around by calling his bluff. Laurent, who overturned every little plan. One day Damen would learn how similar they were.

By the time the common room was nearly empty and the food on the table gone, Laurent taunted Damen into actually taking them upstairs — continuing his pet show for the few patrons remaining. Though Laurent's body language and whispers to Damen seemed to imply something, they all knew the truth. Control yourself, Laurent had said, because he knew his effect on Damen. But Damen was not one to act on impulse, especially with Laurent. Damen had his reservations because of who Laurent was, but he was also a man of virtue who would never take Laurent in any way he didn't want.

Well, that didn't stop him from being taken off guard, of course. His darker skin tone better hid his flush than Laurent's pale skin would — probably why Laurent had to focus so hard to always remain in control of his emotions. His blush was obvious if he let his guard down.

I had always imagined inns as being rather small, even the bigger fancy ones, but this room was pretty sizable. It had a huge hearth, the fateful window and small balcony, one large fancy bed, and a few other pieces of miscellaneous furniture.

The man waiting for them had been sitting on the bed, but quickly jumped up and then fell to one knee when he saw Laurent. I closed the door behind us, leaning against it, though not locking it, while Damen sat in a chair not far off. Apparently, his beard was trimmed down in a style that was Patran in origin. While Vask and Patras took up basically the other half of the world (or continent, anyway) from Vere and Akielos, it was disappointing to know so little about them.

"Your Highness."

"Rise," Laurent told him. "I'm glad to see you. You must have come every night, long after the time when you were due an answer."

The man rose back to his full height. "While you were camped at Nesson, I thought there was a chance your messenger would come."

"He was detained. We were followed from the keep as far as the eastern quarter. I think the roads in and out will be watched."

"I know a way. I can leave as soon as we're done."

Laurent received the parchment with the note from Nikandros — written in code, of course. Though this was a fateful moment of their interactions, there was no doubt Laurent had been in contact with Nikandros and some Akielons long before he had needed them on this scale. At the very least, he had relations with Patras already in place, using them to get to Nikandros — from the Prince of Vere to his enemies in Akielos through a third-party.

Laurent was a wonder, and if he were so inclined, he might unite the four known nations of this world under a single banner with these games of espionage and camaraderie.

After tossing the note into the hearth, Laurent pulled out his signet ring. Then, he turned back towards me and held his hand out.

It took a moment for me to realize what he was asking for. When I reached up to the ring on my thumb, he moved his head ever so slightly into a nod of affirmation. Hesitating only just before dropping it beside his signet ring, I tried to consider what Laurent's plan here was.

I was special. I knew things I shouldn't. I came from somewhere impossible. I had strength that came from almost mystical means. And that ring was one of my possessions. Laurent had been observing me this whole time, and he had come to the conclusion that even something like that ring would make a difference. Something he was willing to risk.

Even I wasn't sure I was willing to risk it. This wasn't something Laurent could have possibly accounted for. All of his surprises came from knowing things meticulously, from experience, from knowing everything that could happen and preparing for it.

The brothel, I realized. The grille that mysteriously had a lock that could be picked. It was a test of fate. Laurent knew something was keeping me safe — giving me the strength I needed to keep up with his troops, and the luck I needed to witness his story unfold. He was willing to bet even objects from my world had that same effect.

But what if I was more like a wake, cutting through the sea? What if the protection around me barreled through everything else and wrecked the story around me in the process?

"Give him these," Laurent said, pressing the two rings into the man's hand, "and tell him that I will wait for him at Ravenel."

The man bowed, and I moved aside to allow him to disappear out the door, to retreat from the sleeping inn.

"You look pleased," Damen said, rising.

"I'm the type who takes a great deal of pleasure in small victories," Laurent confessed.

"You weren't sure he'd be here."

"I didn't think he would be." He glanced back in my direction while unpinning his earring. "Though I had my hopes, two weeks is a long time to wait. I think we'll be safe on the road in the morning. The men who followed us seemed more interested in finding him than harming me. They didn't attack us when they had the chance tonight." He pivoted without missing a beat. "Does that door lead to the bath?"

"Probably," I murmured, heading over to the chest to see if there was anything inside. A pretty hefty blanket that I could sleep on. Now the universe was just toying with me. I wasn't going to say no to it or anything.

"Don't worry, your services aren't required," Laurent said pointedly to Damen.

Damen focused his attention elsewhere. As though that somehow got back at Laurent for being a sassy ass. He helped me pull some more bedding from the chest, enough for both of us to avoid sleeping in the same bed as Laurent. Yay.

"I prefer the floor," I confessed. "When I was little, I used to crawl out of bed just to fall asleep on the carpet. But then I got cold and got back into bed. Took me forever to learn that I just needed to bring a blanket with me. I got a firm bed when I got older."

Damen, with nothing to do, headed downstairs to get some air. For a moment, we had time to just breathe in the silence of the night. Laurent eventually emerged from the baths, half clothed like he was actively trying to make Damen uncomfortable. He almost looked disappointed that Damen had left and missed his entrance, but plopping down in front of the hearth, he clearly decided there'd be more opportunities.

I found the fire poker and stirred the ashes and poked the burning wood, probably looking like an idiot. "Are you sure about this?"

"What? Taking your power, piece by piece?"

So that was his intention. Risk changing the narrative, just to make me nervous. If the story changed into something I couldn't recognize, then I'd really be at his mercy. I was in a world I didn't belong in, and without Laurent and Damen, I would be screwed. I had no power, no friends, and if I didn't know what was coming, this world might be on the road to a path that led to Laurent and Damen losing. If they lost…

Nowhere would be safe, not for me. I would have no leverage with my knowledge, no home, and just the magic surrounding me to keep me alive. And if the story left its main trajectory, what if that magic abandoned me?

"Be cruel as you like about it. I really do want to support you."

"Tell me who the traitor is."

"The traitor?" I huffed, setting the fire poker aside so that I could face him. "That's what this is about?"

"Will you tell me?" Laurent was genuinely curious. He didn't know how I would respond, if I would — both possibilities equally likely. I was honored to be that unpredictable to him.

"Your shock needs to be genuine when it is revealed. But if you're so intent on making me reveal it, I suppose there's no stopping you. Engineer a situation here and there that you see makes me uncomfortable, and narrow down your suspects. Then, make a public statement once you have your guess — just like you did with Govart. If I advocate that you spare them from death or banishment because I know they need to be there to be a traitor, you'll have your answer."

Laurent was twisting one finger between two others, like he was twisting an invisible ring on his delicate yet calloused fingers. "You learn quickly."

"You were a story where I come from. I can only observe what you do and did from an outsider's perspective, but it was enough to know your archetype. After that, it's a matter of being a writer. I was studying from a young age to build entire worlds within my mind, and then tell a complex story within that world based on human tropes. In essence, I just told you how I would deal with an outsider who knew more than they were willing to admit. I am not like you, hardened enough not to wear my heart on my sleeve. I compensate by expressing lots of emotions, so no one can decide which one is the real me. People are multifaceted, myself included, so I tell everyone everything that I am and let them deal with it. I confess to you that I know what you plan, and you'll probably go through with it anyway because we both know there's nothing to be done about it."

"You, of all people, can't believe that's true."

I smiled at the thought: Laurent trying to convince me I was wrong about him. "If I told you my interpretation of your plan, and you acted against it just to prove me wrong, then you might be walking right into my trap — because if I can predict your initial plan, I might also predict the plan you'd have to do in lieu of the original. So you know you lost the element of surprise, but you can work with that. When we both know what might happen and everything's out in the open, it makes the game so much simpler. I guess it's pretty Akielon. They don't like things to be complex."

Laurent almost sounded amused when he scoffed. "I am beginning to understand that."

We sat in the quiet night, accompanied by the crackle of the fire. Laurent took up the fire poker to properly stir the ashes and wood.

"I trust you'll be able to act with the appropriate amount of shock," I confessed. "For you, that just means not being a stoic, unmoving, icy prince for half a second. And I know you'll keep the information discreet. You'll feed the spy information carefully, without giving away a thing — you'll even give him true information when you know it'll put on a show. You're just that good. I could tell you almost everything about your future, and you'd take it in stride and ensure everything was perfect. I wouldn't have to worry about a thing."

"Except my feelings. If you give me your burden of knowing the truth, you're not worried I'll lose this battle for Vere — and even Akielos. You know I'll still be a king. You're more worried that I won't be able to change emotionally. I close myself off to avoid surprises, I don't grow as a person and learn to work with the unknown, become reliant upon the future being certain. And I make fewer choices based on my instincts and feelings, in favor of following my destiny verbatim."

"And you know. It's not worth it. You'll win, you'll have everything you ever wanted, but you won't find your happiness in it."

"He is not my happiness."

"Maybe not. People are not each other's happiness; an individual can't become a crutch to lean upon, to be trapped with in order to feel any joy at all. But he will teach you to be a better version of yourself."

Laurent stabbed a burning plank of wood to crack it in half.

"Told you," I whispered.

Laurent knew it already. He didn't want to know his future, because that would cement it into place. Or worse, make sure it never happens like that — like it should. The illusion of choice wasn't a bad veil to blind him. Unlike most, Laurent was aware that knowing was more dangerous than not. He already knew too much, cautious of two scenarios at all times and doubling the amount of planning he had to do: one for the future where he knew something for certain, and the other future he had to pretend he was following as though he didn't know, in order to keep himself on track.

Laurent couldn't be two people forever. He had been doing it for long enough, concealing the real Laurent beneath layer upon layer of deception and coping and…becoming what he thought Auguste might have been one day. Only lesser. Laurent kept thinking of himself as just the lesser Auguste.

"I'm turning in," I announced. "Don't sleep too hard tonight."

"Noted. Sleep on the bed. We both know he won't use it if I don't."

"You'll be joining me eventually. He'll insist."

I could hear Laurent grumbling under his breath, but he didn't have further arguments.

Hm. Now it was me taunting Laurent with my future knowledge. I never imagined I might be able to meet Laurent's wits, even with my unique circumstances. It was one thing to know Laurent as a character, but another thing entirely to speak to him as a person. But that's all he was, really. A person.

How the tables they turned. And the turns, how they would table right on back to taunt us both.

"But the food's decent, the fire's warm, and no one's tried to kill me in the last three hours. Why not?"

"I thought you had more sophisticated tastes than that."

"Did you?"

"I've seen your court."

"You've seen my uncle's court."

Damen was thinking right now, wondering how Laurent's court would be different. Because it would be. And right now, Damen was unsure of how different. He thought he knew about Laurent, having seen him in Arles, but that Laurent was living in his uncle's domain — and he was fresh from the pits of fiery vengeance that wanted him to flay the skin from Damen's back. Now that they had to work together, Damen saw the more relaxed parts of Laurent, when the man didn't have to put up his acts.

"Not really," Laurent was saying, almost letting surprise creep into his tone. The amusement was there, though. He clearly enjoyed the idea that Damen was being honest with him. "You fell for the King's mistress?"

"He was not the King then. And she was not his mistress. Or if she was, no one knew it. She was intelligent, accomplished, beautiful. She was everything I could have asked for in a woman. But she was a king maker. She wanted power. She must have thought her only path to the throne was through Kastor."

"My honorable barbarian. I wouldn't have picked that as your type."

"Type?"

"A pretty face, a devious mind and a ruthless nature."

"No. That isn't — I didn't know she was…I didn't know what she was."

"Didn't you?"

"Perhaps I…I knew she was ruled by her mind, not her heart. I knew she was ambitious, and, yes, at times ruthless. I admit there was something…attractive about it. But I never guessed that she would betray me for Kastor. That I learned too late."

"Auguste was like you," Laurent confessed. "He had no instinct for deception; it meant he couldn't recognize it in other people."

Damen debated how to respond. "And what about you?"

"I have a highly developed instinct for deception."

"No, I meant —"

"I know what you meant."

Damen might have pulled back, before. If they had company, if they weren't alone now after a night of brothels and earrings and little victories. Laurent was relaxed, less dangerous and even mildly interested. For him, that was a lot. So he did press. "Shy?"

"If you want an answer, you'll need to ask the question."

"Half the men riding in your company are convinced you're a virgin."

"Is that a question?"

"She said…you had something that taught you it was nothing but a hindrance."

"Tsk. What else?" I could hear Laurent putting up one of those walls again.

"Not much. You are not…inexperienced. Just…something happened to teach you sex was never for pleasure. Just a tool in a court of whispering fools, hoping to turn rumors into weapons. You're right. I've seen your uncle's court; I'd understand if it was pragmatic."

"I'm twenty years old," Laurent said, almost as if he was tired of being reminded, "and I've been the recipient of offers almost as long as I can remember."

"Is that an answer?"

"I'm not a virgin. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I wondered," Damen said carefully, "if you reserved your love for women."

"No, I —" Now it was Laurent caught off guard. It took him a moment to gather himself again, both amused, surprised, and then understanding. Damen had learned something of him, in that moment, but he too had learned something of Damen in equal measure. He murmured something more to himself, before returning to attention. "No."

"Have I said something to offend you? I didn't mean —"

"No. A plausible, benign and uncomplicated theory. Trust you to come up with it."

Whenever people saw Laurent, the cold and conniving prince who seemed to loathe intimacy, they thought something wrong with him. They would spread rumors of him being heartless, or even that he was afraid of something. Some might even aspire to be the exception, like they could somehow "fix" him or teach him to be like everyone else — what everyone else wanted him to be.

The minute Laurent finally let down his guard to try falling in love genuinely, those kinds of people would only get worse. They would say he was tamed — beaten down by someone more powerful, or weak to fall in love with someone beneath him. There was no winning for Laurent when it came to his relationships, physical or romantic.

But Damen was so properly innocent and understanding of Laurent just having a preference. He treated Laurent not like a boy who would one day grow up and learn his lesson, but a man who had made a decision and knew what he was doing. Sad that such a thing should be so rare, for how hard Laurent has worked. For someone like me, it was understandable; my generation wouldn't truly be expected to know who they are until their late twenties, early thirties. But Laurent had grown up fast, and his uncle had taken many steps to ensure no one believed it.

Damen trusted Laurent, and he didn't care who he slept with so long as it was Laurent's choice. That kind of honesty, genuine respect and kindness, the sympathy and empathy to make a connection like no other — it was something Laurent had been deprived of for a long time. Of all the people for it to come from, it had to be the man he was trying to hate.

From the moment they'd met, Damen had been surprising him. The vision of the monstrous enemy prince that had murdered Auguste in cold blood was gone now, replaced by the slave prince who begged for Laurent's help saving others who were helpless. The gentle giant who spent late nights talking strategy over a map, giving advice better than his own Captain, warning Laurent not to charge into danger on his own because it almost seemed like he cared about Laurent's safety on a personal level.

The man who saw the absolute worst parts of Laurent and yet who sat beside the fire confessing about their love lives (or lack thereof) and preferences. If they forgot, just for a moment, who they were, you might almost be fooled into thinking they were two normal men, friends even, just talking to one another as equals.

"It's not my fault that no one in your country can think in a straight line," Damen was saying, a touch defensively.

"I'll tell you why Jokaste chose Kastor," Laurent said.

Damen was silent for a pause, letting the crackling flames fill the void. "He was a prince. He was a prince and I was just —"

He couldn't finish. Damen hadn't had a lot of time to process all the betrayals as they happened. One moment, everything had been fine — he couldn't believe Kastor could pose any sort of threat. Then, his father is dead, and he is overpowered by soldiers who knew what they were doing. Betrayal from beloved and brother. Damen was declared dead and shipped to his enemy's footsteps with the man who hated him more than anything. And then he had to become Laurent's ally, trapped among Veretian politics with Akielos far, far away.

"That isn't why," Laurent interjected. "She would have chosen him even if you'd had royal blood in your veins, even if you'd had the same blood as Kastor. You don't understand the way a mind like that thinks. I do. If I were Jokaste and a kingmaker, I'd have chosen Kastor over you too."

"I suppose you are going to enjoy telling me why."

"Because a kingmaker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control."

Damen was stunned into silence. But he could see Laurent was being true. Not a hint of rancor in his expression, his tone, his words. Damen had seen the many reasons Laurent was a king, but he had never expected Laurent to admit Damen's own prowess…almost like Laurent said he would be the king Laurent thought worthy to rule Akielos. Not as an enemy, or some political strategy. Just an honest confession: you are good enough. You were naïve, betrayed, humiliated, almost killed, reduced to the slave of the man who hates you most — who is and still might be your greatest enemy one day — but you are still a king. You will be. Laurent had no doubts about it.

Damen, then, might have begun to feel the painful sting of liking Laurent more than should be possible. A love blossoming within the thorns of all that stood between them. A chasm of history and hatred under a veil of lies and secrets, and yet still they each found reason to want to brave the gap. Maybe they already had, without even realizing it.

"What makes you think Kastor is the weaker man?" Damen finally replied. "You don't know him."

"But I'm coming to know you." Laurent shifted, tossing another log into the hearth. "You should rest. I will keep watch in case of unwanted attention in the night."

"And here I thought you were relaxing. Three hours without an attempt on your life must be getting to you," Damen said, in some attempt to lighten the mood — to try and smooth over the weight of their conversation as easily as Laurent did. Back to their normal dynamic. Nothing more.

"Let's just say, when an Oracle tells you to sleep light, you sleep light."

"You need rest too. We should take shifts."

"Fine. I'll wake you in two hours."

Guess what? I somehow ended up labeling two chapter 3's in my document. I don't...I know how to count, I swear. So...guess what?! We have 10 chapters from the second book, not 9! Woooo! Round numbers!