Captive Prince (Captive Prince, #1)

by C.S. Pacat

learning the words of an enemy was as important as learning the words of a friend.

“Don’t be presumptuous,” said Laurent, coldly. “Too late, sweetheart,” said Damen.

His best feature was a pair of amazing blue eyes, unmatched by any Damen had ever seen, except for the ones he had recently been staring into.

He was not inclined to believe that cruelty delivered with one hand was redeemed by a caress from the other,

“Is there anyone at this court who isn’t my enemy?” “Not if I can help it,” Laurent said.

“Shall I make a face at the ones you don’t like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?” “Shut up,” said Laurent, calmly.

You’ve never applied yourself seriously to anything in your life.” “Haven’t I? Well, then it’s nothing serious, uncle. You have no cause to worry.”

It was wasteful of nature to have bestowed those looks on one whose character was so unpleasant.

“I’m not surprised you’ve driven three men to try and kill you, I’m only surprised there weren’t more,”

I can’t . . . protect you, as I am now.”

“I dislike feeling indebted to you. Trust that, if you don’t trust me.”

“Yesterday I brutalised him. Today I am swooning into his arms. I would prefer the charges against me to be consistent. Pick one.”

“Yes, apparently I have fucked my enemy, conspired against my future interests, and colluded in my own murder. I can’t wait to see what feats I will perform next.”

I disliked feeling indebted to you.” And then: “You had far less reason to help me than I did to help you.” “That’s certainly true.” “You don’t prettify what you think, do you?” said Laurent, still frowning. “A more artful man would. An artful man would have stayed put and won advantage by fostering the sense of obligation and guilt in his master.” “I didn’t realise you had a sense of guilt,” said Damen, bluntly.

“He asked me to bed you, then report back to him.” Damen was forthright. “Not in those words.” “And your answer?” That, unreasonably, annoyed him. “If I’d bedded you, you’d know it.”

Damen felt a certain amount of empathy with the man: Laurent could inspire homicidal tendencies simply by breathing.

It was not only that he was navigating a foreign language. It was as though Laurent was an entirely other species of animal.

Damen drew in a breath and let it out, looking at each of the faces and wondering which of them had been coaxed or coerced into the employ of the Regent. How the taint of this place had sunk down into his bones: He was certain betrayal would come; he was only unsure from where.

“However you’ve turned his head, he sent us right to you.”

“I’m coming back,” said Laurent. “Is that what you think?”

“I would never ask you to do anything you found distasteful,” said Laurent. “Looking at you is distasteful,” said Nicaise.

A golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies.