Harbor (On the Wind #3)

5. Orestes

CHAPTER FIVE

ORESTES

T he prince was a rabbit, it turned out. At my lascivious stare, he’d turned tail and run for the bushes.

Or maybe he just wasn’t used to people reacting to his flirting with anything but shock. Paris had said Urial had some strange grudge against people who couldn’t have children with each other marrying, as though it was the duty of every person in love to spawn, like salmon or goats.

Maybe the point of his flirtations was eliciting shock. I’d done something like it, when I was younger, saying inappropriate things whenever I could, simply to try to get a reaction from my father. It hadn’t made much sense, really, because who wants to be backhanded by the person who’s supposed to be their protector? And yet, I’d done it, again and again. Those beatings had been the only indication he’d given a damn about my existence.

Perhaps the prince, too, wanted his father to remember he existed.

I’d have been hard-pressed to ever forget it, beautiful as he was. Brett had already been in love with Paris by the time he met Tybalt, but Paris had loved his prince once. Killian... well, Killian had different standards than most people I knew. After the way his mother had gone through one lover after another, every man in the world good enough to slide into her bed as long as he caught her eye, I thought Killian had deliberately gone in the opposite direction.

Not that he was some blushing virgin, but his standards were so high that with most people, by the time they proved themselves worthy to be in his bed, they were already his friends. And everyone knew that sleeping with friends was fraught. When you relied on those friends for your life, it was a mistake, as often as not.

Crane didn’t live long, if they went around making mistakes.

The children ran in and out with buckets of steaming water. It was all I could do to refrain from stripping and jumping into the water with them still running about.

When a slightly older girl arrived and started to set a fire in the fireplace, I could have kissed her. She bit her lip and ducked her head, her hair falling in her face, like she knew what I was thinking, and the giant barbarian bird man was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

“I’m not planning to cook you over the fire, you know,” I told her after a minute.

She jumped when I spoke but then ducked her head again, and this time the lip bite was to keep from giggling. “I know. The Nemedans who took Lord Sampson’s family away weren’t barbarians. There was whispers about court that they had better manners than most folk. People were none too happy about it, especially the king.”

The king. The way she whispered those two words gave me a bad feeling about them—like I hadn’t already suspected the man was the worst kind of tyrant. “I take it people didn’t talk about it in front of him?”

She gave me a look like I was the most ridiculous creature ever born, rolling her eyes. “Of course not. Especially not now. King Albany... he’s always been a harsh king, but my parents said he was a good one.”

“And now he’s not,” I finished for her.

She wouldn’t look at me. “Didn’t say that.”

“And you wouldn’t ever,” I agreed. “Any idea what’s changed?”

She shrugged. “He’s getting older. An’ Prince Tybalt is nice enough. Never rude to us or anything. But he’s...”

“He’s a butterfly.” She turned and cocked her head at me, eyes squinted in confusion, so I elaborated. “He’s pretty, and nice enough, but you can’t exactly rely on him for anything. He doesn’t provide. He doesn’t work. He’s not there to protect you. He’s just pretty.”

Her mouth fell open and the breath left her, but she gave a quick nod and turned back to her work, lighting the kindling ablaze and then making sure the logs caught as well. “He—the king, that is—gave you a room that weren’t fit for people to stay in. Not even us servants use it anymore. Cold in the winter, hot in the summer, right under the food stores, so there’s critters sometimes. He wanted it to be bad.”

“Clearly,” I agreed again.

“But the prince, he wanted you here. And he can tell us what to do. Just like anyone in the castle. So we’re doing what he said.”

Ah. They were worried. “Well then, if anyone asks what servants moved me in here, I’ll tell them there were none. Tybalt brought me here himself and I started the fire.”

That seemed to reassure her, and she let out another quick breath.

“Besides,” I pointed out, “the king is being short-sighted. I’m a diplomat from Nemeda, you know that.” She nodded, poking at the fire absently, watching me, curious. “And a warrior, obviously.”

Her eyes went round, and she nodded again. “You’re giant. The other Nemedans were big, but you’re the biggest man I ever saw.”

“And Urial doesn’t want a war with Nemeda, do they?”

She shook her head so hard her whole body shook side to side along with it. “We don’t even have an army. Howda we fight a war?” After she said the words, she paused, frowning. “I... I shouldn’t’ve said that, should I?”

I had to smother my amusement to take her seriously, since she was clearly trying hard. “No, probably not. But I already knew it. I’ve traveled through Urial. If you had an army, I’d have seen some sign of it.”

She considered, nodding.

One of the kids bringing water slowed to a stop next to us. “We’re all done, Mister Nemedan. But... maybe King Albany doesn’t think Nemeda is a threat, even if he’s mean to you. Everyone knows Nemeda’s in a war with the south, have been for years. Can’t fight everyone at once, can you? No matter how good you are at fighting.”

I inclined my head to him. “A fair point. It seems unlikely the war with the south is going to end. But that makes us natural allies, doesn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes, confused, but the girl who’d started the fire gasped. “Because if you aren’t there to fight the southerners, they might come for us!”

“Indeed they might. So it would be best for everyone in both countries to work together, not disdain each other for our differences.”

They both nodded sagely before she stood, wiping her hands down the side of her dress before swatting him on the ass. “Time to go and let the diplomat enjoy his bath in peace. I doubt he wants us hanging about watching him.”

And I did enjoy my bath. But not without thinking long and hard about how a couple of children, servants, seemed to understand the pitfalls of Nemeda and Urial’s situation better and faster than the jackasses who ran the countries in question. Well, more than the king, definitely. I didn’t have the most faith in the council, but at least they understood that fighting with Urial was a poor choice. If only they’d sent someone better at diplomacy to handle it.