Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(104)

“Then you’d be wrong.” He glanced at the prince from the corner of his eye. Perhaps the king was right to worry about this prince. Nic wondered with an edge of worry what the prince might have overheard today. “Where are your bodyguards?”

Ashur shrugged. “Around, I suppose. I’m not an advocate of being swarmed.”

“You should know that the City of Gold is not without its dangers.”

The prince eyed him with amusement. “Duly noted.”

Nic’s gaze moved to the twin daggers the prince had sheathed to either side of his leather belt. Perhaps the prince could protect himself just fine without comment or concern.

Five . . . six . . . ten drinks, and Nic found he had few filters attached to his tongue that might keep him from speaking disrespectfully. “What do you want from me, your grace?”

The amused expression remained on the prince’s handsome face. “To talk.”

“About what?”

Ashur swirled the next drink in his glass. “About Princess Cleo’s amethyst ring.”

Nic went very still. Until today he’d never given a thought to Cleo’s ring. “The princess has a lot of jewelry. I don’t keep track of it.”

“I think you know the one I’m talking about. After all, you’re her closest confidant.” He raised an eyebrow. “Although, perhaps not as close as you’d like to be.”

The prince looked at Nic as if he knew more than he possibly could. It was unsettling. Again, he wondered how much of the conversation with Cleo this man could have heard, unseen by either of them. Or was he only guessing?

Nic shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “The princess is not a subject I wish to discuss.”

Ashur smiled gently. “Unrequited love is a painful thing, isn’t it?”

Something in Nic’s chest twisted. He didn’t like how this prince seemed to know him so well, seemed to look inside his soul so deeply. “The worst.”

“Tell me what you know about the Kindred.” Ashur leaned his chin on his fist as he studied Nic. “I believe it’s real. Do you?”

“It’s just a silly legend.” It came out in a whisper as his heart began to race.

Why was the prince asking these things?

“My father has conquered many lands filled with great riches. He doesn’t believe Mytica is large enough to hold anything to be interested in. But he’s wrong. I believe Mytica is the most important realm that has ever existed. I believe Mytica is the gateway to great magic that lies dormant across all parts of this world, including Kraeshia. Therefore, I’m here to find out if the ‘silly’ legends are true. And one of those legends happens to concern a rather special ring.”

Nic downed his latest drink in one quick gulp. “Apologies, your grace, but if you’re here in Auranos chasing after legends and magic, then you’ll be sorely disappointed. Cleo wears a ring her father gave her before he died, that’s all. It has no further significance than that.”

“King Gaius must know about the Kindred,” Prince Ashur continued, undeterred. “And I would imagine he wants it very badly. Without powerful magic to strengthen his hold upon this kingdom, he could be so easily crushed. Do you think he realizes this? But what does his Imperial Road have to do with anything? I believe he has ulterior motives for building it—motives that tie directly to the search for the Kindred. So many of his army patrol the road, spread thin across the three kingdoms of Mytica, leaving his castles in both Limeros and Auranos vulnerable to attack from overseas. Sounds like the move of an obsessed king with a very specific goal to me. What do you think?”

Despite the drinks, Nic’s mouth had gone bone dry. “I have no idea how to respond to such statements.”

“Are you sure about that? I think you have far more to offer someone like me than even you realize.” Ashur leaned forward, locking his gaze with Nic’s. The prince’s eyes stood out from his dark skin, a pale grayish blue, like the surface of the Silver Sea itself.

Nic’s heart pounded so loud and fast he couldn’t hear the buzz of conversation in the tavern anymore. “I wish you a very pleasant evening. Good night, Prince Ashur.”

He left the tavern and began walking through the maze of buildings and cobblestone streets to find his way back to the palace. However, soon he found himself hopelessly lost. Ten . . . eleven . . . fifteen drinks. How many had he had?

“Oh, Nic,” he mumbled. “Not good. Not good at all.”

Especially not when he realized someone now followed him.

He continued to walk swiftly while long, shadowy fingers seemed to reach out toward him. He kept a hand at his belt, prepared to draw his sword on any attackers. The city had its share of thieves and pickpockets ready to kill if they thought they might get caught. King Gaius was famous for his ill treatment of prisoners, and no one wanted to find themselves in his already overly crowded dungeons.

Nic turned the next corner and stumbled to a halt when he found himself in a blind alleyway.

“Lost?” It was Prince Ashur’s voice that rose up behind him.

Tensing, he turned slowly. “Maybe a little.”

The prince’s gaze swept the length of him. “Perhaps I can help.”

Still no bodyguards. This prince walked the streets of a potentially lethal city with no protection.