Harbor (On the Wind #3)

16. Tybalt

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TYBALT

I hadn’t made it farther than the stables before someone found me, damn it all.

Mercutio was waiting there, leaning gorgeously against the stall where my dapple-gray mare, Biscuit, spent her days.

She was an enormous, sturdy thing with thick hair around her legs, and I liked her very much. She was patient when I was a mess, and I’d always found her presence steadying when I was feeling unmoored.

Mercutio’s company? Well, that depended on the day.

At first, I was too distracted by the casual slant of his shoulders and the cant of his hips as he crossed his legs to notice the unsavory look on his face. When he spoke, there was no missing it.

“You’re here at last,” he said, throwing his jaw out and glaring at me. He pushed off the wooden post behind him with his shoulder

I frowned at him. No, his griping didn’t warrant a question. I was prince still, and I wasn’t going to go digging for understanding while he wanted to play games.

Mercutio, as usual, understood when I simply pursed my lips at him. He waved his hand through the air and huffed. “You’ve been locked away. Your maid said you had company. The Nemedan?”

I smirked. “He is rather large.”

“Good.”

I arched a brow. How was it any relevance, who I’d taken to my bed? If anything, to flaunt the affair as openly as I had was tempting danger.

“You’ll need allies,” he clarified, “and you’re not likely to find them in our court.”

“I do so appreciate your vote of confidence, Mercutio.” I shouldered past him, into Biscuit’s stall.

When I reached for her velvety nose, she snorted against my fingers. It was only then that I realized I’d dissatisfied her too.

I hadn’t brought her so much as a sugar cube.

“This is a disaster,” Mercutio snipped, throwing his jaw out and glaring at me. “You cannot mean to let that woman take your birthright from you.”

I scoffed, petting down Biscuit’s nose. “Lady Penelope, you mean?”

“Is that her name?”

I nodded. Biscuit had the largest eyes, big and golden brown like a sprinkle of sugar baked into ginger biscuits.

I supposed Lady Penelope warranted more of a defense, after she’d gone out of her way to speak with me. Her pale face stuck in my mind. She’d been terrified, and it didn’t sit well with me.

“Lady Penelope has no interest in my birthright. Less than no interest.”

“And yet, her marriage to your father is an impediment,” Mercutio shot back.

I rounded on him. “If my father means to make another heir and replace me, what should she do about it?” What should I do about it? “It’s not in her power to change.”

“But it is in yours! You must do something. You’ve been shadowing your father for months.”

“Which, if anything, has only further convinced him of my uselessness.”

“That isn’t enough!” His raised voice had horses all throughout the stables stamping their feet angrily. There was no groom to be found—perhaps it was Mercutio’s own anger that had driven them off. More likely, they expected something to occur between us that no decent citizen of Urial would want to watch. It would come as a shock to them all that neither one of us were in the mood.

I glared at him, and though Mercutio’s shoulders scrunched up toward his ears and I suspected he realized his overstep, he stuck his jaw out further.

“I have not called you a friend all these years to watch you give up now.”

“And what would you have me do?” I demanded. “The closer I get to the throne, the more disappointment I rain down on the king. Clearly, my involvement risks more than it benefits anyone.”

“Then do better! Tybalt, you are prince of all of Urial. You could?—”

Mercutio looked away, overcome. This mattered to him, and I couldn’t imagine why.

Paris had always imagined he would be at my side through my reign, which had felt so far away that every time he’d spoken of it, my mind had drifted. Yes, indeed, I wanted him there, and it would be ever so lovely to sit on my throne and know I had such a loyal attendant waiting in my suite, and our lives would be more perfect than anyone had ever dared to imagine.

So easy, to say what he wanted to hear, all the while knowing it was a daydream. Even before this mess, I hadn’t truly been able to imagine myself sitting the throne. Perhaps that would’ve been all right, if I’d been able to live a different life and leave this one behind.

But no, for me, it was the throne or death, and—well, I’d never imagined the throne, so...

“If you are looking for a savior,” I said lowly, “look elsewhere than here, Mercutio. That is not me.”

Gods knew I couldn’t even save myself.

I hooked my foot into Biscuit’s stirrup and swung onto her back. When I nudged her with my heels, she walked forward, and Mercutio had to jump back to avoid her hooves. Satisfaction swelled in me at seeing him unsettled, and I knew it was unkind.

Yet another reason I wasn’t suited to anyone’s throne.

“You can be better than this.” The way he said it was downright accusatory. “Do so much more.”

I sneered down at him. “Or I can go for a ride, and you can get the fuck out of my way.”

The brisk northern air outside the stables stung my cheeks, especially when I pressed Biscuit faster. We’d make our way from the palace and—and once my thoughts cleared, I’d come back.

Or maybe I’d keep going, up and up and up into the mountains where no one could find me.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t the palace that I wanted to see again. Not my father or my friends. I could leave all of them behind in exchange for the freedom of disappearing.

My large, warm bed might’ve held some appeal...

But in truth, it was the enormous Nemedan, who’d been giving and open in a way that downright befuddled me, that I wanted to see again. Perhaps he’d stick around a while.

That was almost worth coming back for, even if his monster cock made ridding saddleback quite uncomfortable.