Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(44)
They arrived at the luxurious villa which looked down upon a lush green meadow. The princess had two male servants assist Nic out of the carriage, helping him into the expansive home. After two handmaidens cleaned and bandaged his wounds, he was escorted to the villa’s courtyard, where he sat down gingerly on the patio. A servant handed him a goblet filled with peach juice, which he drank with enthusiasm.
The princess sat opposite Nic, and suddenly the gravity of the situation lay heavily on his shoulders. Being pampered by the princess herself had certainly helped get him closer to the royals than any other guard would get without great effort. If his body didn’t feel so broken and bruised, he might have actually thanked Burrus and Milo for facilitating this opportunity.
“Now, let’s get one thing straight,” Princess Amara said, breaking the silence. “I don’t believe for one moment you were set upon by thieves. Those two brutes did this to you—two against one. Would they have killed you had we not shown up when we did?”
“I believe that was their plan,” Nic admitted. “I’m very grateful that you intervened. I owe you my life.”
“Why would they want to hurt you?”
“Because they don’t like me.”
Amara laughed lightly at his honesty. “Yes, I believe their sentiment is now written all over your face.”
Ashur walked out and joined them, sitting in a chair next to Nic while Amara rose to receive a flower arrangement a servant brought into the courtyard.
“From King Gaius, who hopes you’re enjoying this villa,” the servant said. Amara nodded and waved her away.
“King Gaius,” Amara repeated the name as she brushed her hand over the beautiful orchids. “How kind of him, don’t you think, brother?”
“Very kind,” Ashur said dryly.
“He banishes us to a forgettable location outside the palace walls, then sends flowers as a sign of friendship. Does he think we’ll be wooed by this paltry offering?”
“I’m not quite sure what that man is thinking.” Ashur paused. “Perhaps our friend Nicolo might know.”
Nic straightened his back, which only made his ribs hurt more. “Believe me, I’m just a lowly palace guard. You might want to talk to Cronus if you want some inside information. He’s quite chatty.”
His description of the silently intimidating captain of the guards earned him a smile from the prince and a quizzical look from the princess. Perhaps she didn’t understand his sarcasm.
Nic wanted to speak with Ashur alone, but Amara was making that impossible.
Ashur leaned closer. “How are you feeling? Did they do any permanent damage?”
Being near the prince, remembering what had happened in that alleyway, was much more difficult than he’d anticipated. “I’ll heal.”
“You look very pale.”
“That’s how I always look.”
“You look fine to me, otherwise,” Ashur said, raising an eyebrow. “Happily, bruises fade and I’m sure you’ll be good as new before too long.”
Nic shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I hope you’re right.”
“I know you’re already well acquainted with my brother,” Amara said.
Nic wasn’t sure how he should respond to her statement. “We’ve spoken before.”
She studied him with open interest. “Ashur believes your relationship with Princess Cleiona makes you quite valuable.”
“Oh?”
“She sent you here today to speak with us, didn’t she?”
He gaped at her. “Excuse me?”
“It’s an educated guess. Please correct me if I’m mistaken. There’s no other reason for you to venture all this way, is there?”
He cleared his throat and sipped some peach juice to compose himself. “If that’s what you believe, what reason would she have for sending me?”
“So you can assess whether we’re friend or foe,” Amara said simply. “And she chose you because she trusts no one else.”
Nic glanced at Ashur.
The prince’s lips quirked up at Nic’s stunned expression. “My sister’s educated guesses are legendary in Kraeshia. She’s almost always right.”
“The princess should know that we are worthy of her trust,” Amara continued, as if she hadn’t just directly stated what Nic had been trying to be extremely delicate about. “We are happy to offer our friendship to Cleo, but she needs to be willing to help us in return.”
Nic drained the rest of his drink in a single gulp. No reason to deny anything. Now he had to gather as much information as he could. “What do you want?”
“What we want,” Ashur said, “is the Kindred. My father has finally accepted there might be a treasure here worth claiming for Kraeshia. But he’s a man of brute force rather than delicate finesse. Many will die if he and his armada come here to challenge King Gaius. I’d rather prevent all of that, if possible.”
From Ashur’s description, Emperor Cortas was every bit as fearsome as his public reputation, and every bit as ruthless as King Gaius. A shiver shot down Nic’s spine. “You think Cleo knows how to find the Kindred?”
“Yes,” Amara said, smiling.
Nic fell silent, eyeing the two with doubt and suspicion. They were too eager to state their intentions, too ready to align. Was all of this just part of the simple Kraeshian candidness, or should Nic be heeding this as a warning?