Prince's Gambit (Captive Prince, #2)

by C.S. Pacat

‘All right,’ said Laurent. ‘Anything else?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. ‘Then speak your mind,’ said Laurent. ‘Not that you have ever done anything else.’ Damen said, ‘I will help you in whatever way I can, but there will be no time for anything but hard work, and you will have to do everything right.’ Laurent lifted his chin and replied with every bit of cool, galling arrogance he had ever shown. ‘Watch me,’ he said.

‘You said two reasons,’ said Damen. ‘What was the other?’ ‘The men think you bend me over inside the tent,’ said Laurent. He said it in the same calm way he said everything. Damen fumbled the vambrace. ‘It would erode my authority.

‘You’re sitting so far away,’ said the blonde. ‘Then get up,’ said Laurent. She got up.

‘Because a kingmaker would always choose the weaker man. The weaker the man, the easier he is to control.’

‘What makes you think Kastor is the weaker man? You don’t know him.’ ‘But I’m coming to know you,’ said Laurent.

‘I think we’re safe,’ said Damen. ‘Somehow, no one saw us.’ ‘But I told you. It’s the game I like,’ said Laurent, and with the toe of his boot he deliberately pushed a loose roof tile until it slid off the rooftop and shattered in the street below. ‘They’re on the roof!’ came the call from below. This time, it was a chase.

Damen felt it then, the first dizzy edge of new emotion, and he let go his hold of Laurent like a man fearing a precipice; and yet was helpless.

‘All right what?’ said Damen. ‘All right, you’re not fucking him,’ said Lazar.

obliterated by anger. He was not thinking about tactics. That man had laid hands on Laurent, and Damen was going to kill him.

It was like being pleased by a thorn bush, feeling fond of every prickle.

‘I don’t think you want me. I think you just want me to feel this.’ ‘Then, feel it,’ said Laurent.

‘Laurent,’ he said, and he was breaking apart. To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up.

Except that it was Kastor who had put the collar on him, and Laurent who was freeing him.

‘You can tell my uncle boykiller that he can cut the head off every child from here to the capital. It won’t make him into a king, it will simply mean he has no one left to fuck.’

‘He lives. The King’s son lives. Damianos.’