Prince and Assassin (Perilous Courts, #1)

by Tavia Lark

Julien picked the colors seven years ago, based on what he thought looked cool and dangerous. Nobody should let sixteen-year-old boys pick anything.

“Their loyalty is wasted on a cad like me, alas. I assured her I would love to hear more, and then unfortunately got distracted making out with her brother.”

“My name’s Julien. And I don’t mind the casual address, but Captain Nadine will probably tell you to call me ‘Your Highness.’” To Will’s credit, he doesn’t flush or stammer. He simply blinks, then obediently repeats, “Your Highness.” The honorific sounds nicer coming from him than from Loras. “Shouldn’t you have guards with you? Your Highness.” Julien laughs. “Oh, Nadine will love that. You sound just like her.”

There’s no overt sign in Will’s expression, no circles under his eyes. But Julien has the distinct impression that Will is exhausted. Like he’s stretched too thin. Like he hasn’t slept in days.

Back at Sandrelle, some courtier’s always having a birthday or half-birthday. Sometimes they celebrate their pet birds’ birthdays.”

His Highness has a reputation.” Rosin waves her hand vaguely. “People say he’ll fuck just about anyone.” Whisper’s starting to like Rosin. She’s quite forthcoming. “And that’s untrue?” “Of course,” Rosin says. “He doesn’t fuck anyone—he only fucks men.

“Is it rude to ask how intelligent they are?” “Not more or less than humans, just different,” Will says. “They’re cats. They have their own priorities.”

Will bites his lip. “I know you said Captain Nadine would handle this, but if you have any influence, I’d like to keep this job.” Really unfair of Will to bite his lip like that. Julien’s having enough trouble concentrating without that image jolting straight to his cock.

“You don’t look fine, Your Highness,” Will says, with charming concern. “Did you eat anything unaccounted for? Sit down, I’m calling for a—” “If you call for a healer, you’re fired.”

“Am I being fired?” Whisper asks. “Worse,” Nadine says. “You’re being promoted.”

Julien meets his eyes, and a princely smile slides across his face. “Perfect timing. How are the fellcats?” Whisper forgets to bow until Nadine nudges him. Perhaps his tension is simply the certainty that Father would flog him for being so distracted by a prince’s smile.

“I’m promoting you to Master of Cats. Or something. I’m still workshopping the title.”

It’s all right to refuse the job.” Julien pauses. “I know that’s a little rich of me to say when I just attacked you with a tree.”

Whisper always feels a strange sense of connection with his targets. He bears no grievance against them—the grievance is the client’s, and Whisper is simply the hired weapon. While he enjoys the challenges of stealth and evasion, he doesn’t enjoy the act of killing itself. Yet there’s a closeness in the act. During those final moments, Whisper becomes the worst and most important person in their lives. It’s only natural they become an indelible part of Whisper too.

Whisper touches his shoulder. There are no bruises, but he wishes there were. He likes reminders.

“Don’t worry. I’m a responsible royal scion. I’ll keep my dick in ungrateful, backstabbing courtiers where it belongs.” “It belongs in a cage,” Nadine mutters. Julien taps his chin thoughtfully. “Is that treason? I think that might be treason.” “Report me to Her Majesty and see if she agrees,” Nadine says.

“Quick question—what’s the cheapest tavern in Greenhaven?” “It’s not going to be that easy, but—wait.” Lucien cocks his head. “How are you at cards, Your Highness?” “I’m amazing at cards.”

“It seems Lord Cupcake’s loyalties are fickle.” Will straightens up from scritching under Cupcake’s chin. “Is his name Lord Cupcake?” “I know.” Julien gives Cupcake the biscuit. “I named him when I was thirteen. Audric said Cupcake wasn’t a very dignified name, which is why I tacked on the title.”

The delicate profile as he turns away after, as if embarrassed by the laughter. Quick and quiet, but far more real than any of the courtiers who laugh too hard at Julien’s jests. Maybe that’s what he finds so interesting about Will. Will isn’t trying to impress him at all.

A leather-wrapped bracelet sits on his wrist, just the edge of it visible under the cuff of his sleeve, and the crude ornament only emphasizes the elegant bones of his hand. I’m definitely not going to fuck him, Julien tells himself. At least, not before the background check comes back.

“He tried to kiss one of the carved dragons on the wall.” “Succeeded,” Loras corrects. “Unfortunately, I remember I succeeded. Hopefully Goldie has forgotten.”

Whisper tries a smile. “I’m not bad at darts.” “Not bad, he says!” Valerie throws up her hands, feigning annoyance to cover her real annoyance. A consummate courtier, she seizes the chance to address Julien. “Your Highness, this game is rigged.” “Having skill isn’t cheating, though cheating is also a skill.”

“How do you say, ‘Don’t eat me, eat this biscuit instead?’” Julien asks. “If a fellcat actually wants to eat you, you need to say something a bit more concise, Your Highness.”

Footsteps rattle onto the pavilion behind Julien. Nadine calls out, “Highness, if you run out there—oh, fuck you!” Her words follow him over the railing and through the garden.

“Your Highness,” Will protests. “You shouldn’t go anywhere. There might be more of them.” Julien selfishly savors Will’s concern as he walks to the nearest tree. “Insubordination noted, but I’m not going anywhere. Just a little Sandry magic trick.”

“I’ll reward him myself.” “Highness,” Nadine warns. “What?” “I still haven’t heard back from my contacts in Fellrin. Don’t do anything stupid before we confirm he’s who he says he is. I’m glad he moved quickly today, but…” “He moved too quickly,” Julien says. “I know. Don’t worry. I’m still not fucking him.” “That’s still not as reassuring as you think it is.”

You got hurt, and this man I don’t even know is dead. Because somebody wants me dead—but I don’t know why.” “I barely got scratched,” Whisper protests. Julien gently takes Whisper’s arm again. “If you got a papercut, it would be too much for me.”

“What kind of man was he? Not just his hobbies, but who was he?” The room darkens without Julien’s smile. “Heartless,” he says eventually. “Tesson was heartless.” “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Whisper says softly. “Because you’ll never be that.”

Julien asked if he’s all right; for once in his life, Whisper wants to say that he isn’t. “I get nightmares,” Whisper says. “I don’t sleep much.” “Ah. That explains it.” Julien reaches out slowly, as if to pet a nervous cat. Warm fingertips kiss the skin under Whisper’s eye. “You always look so tired.” And for a translucent, painful moment, Whisper feels seen.

I don’t dislike you. “High praise.” Very high praise. She veers eastwards. Come along. I hear Fisk and the kitten catching up, and I want to catch the little dragon before Fisk does. “The kitten?” Julien grins, following behind her. “That suits him.” Her spotted ears flick towards him. See? I dislike you less and less every day. Fisk disagrees with me, but I think the kitten is very much like a kitten. A very good kitten.

He’s good with his hands. He always finds the right place to scratch behind my ears. He doesn’t talk too much, but he pays attention. Her ears flick towards him again. He pays a lot of attention to you. Julien’s mind is so caught up on the phrase ‘good with his hands’ that he takes a moment to process Rumi’s last remark. “He pays attention to me?” Rumi’s laughter rolls through his mind. He watches you more carefully than Fisk watches a roast chicken. It’s absurd to witness.

It heaves against her clawed grasp—and its tail detaches with an audible tear of flesh. How dare it! Rumi shouts in Julien’s head. That isn’t fair!

“If you wanted the kill, you should have told me earlier. Next time you hunt with me, you can have it. I’ll make sure of it.” Will’s lips part slightly, the faintest crack in his unreadable expression. This close, Julien can see a freckle just inside the soft pink curve of his lower lip. Its movement is mesmerizing as Will speaks. “I don’t care about the kill. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Julien releases his shoulder and puts a proper distance between them. But there’s nothing proper about the warmth in his voice when he says, “Rumi was right. You’re a good kitten.” Whisper nearly stumbles. “She called me what?” “Don’t worry about it—oh look, we’re here!”

“There’s no shortage of people with motives. Oh, here’s the main course.” No shortage of motives. Anyone could have been the Kennel’s client. The newly ascended Marquise Vernon, or a frustrated business rival. Another family member, a jilted lover, someone who simply had an obsession and the funding to support it. Whisper didn’t leave a trace; Father would have killed him if he had. But there are rumors nonetheless. Anyone could have been the client, but only Whisper held the pillow over the old man’s face.

In the quiet, Whisper remembers how tall Julien is, how broad his shoulders are under the black leather. Whisper isn’t sure which of them would win a fair fight. That’s why the fight can never be fair.

The space between them is meaningless when Julien’s presence suffuses every particle of air, fogging the glass around Whisper’s heart.

Don’t worry about Emile, or anyone else in this nest of snakes. I’ll take care of you.” It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to Whisper—and the most painful. Julien has no idea he’s comforting his murderer. Guilt tightens its claws around Whisper’s ribs until he can barely breathe. Julien doesn’t just want to fuck me, he could answer Lucien now. It’s so much worse than that.

“I’m listening,” Will says again, barely audible. Julien takes a deep breath. His thoughts are a mess, but he’s clear on one thing. “I want you to stay for a very long time. I want to get to know you better. Slowly. That’s why I want you to know you can leave whenever you want. I want you to stay, but I don’t want you trapped here, if you ever want to leave.” Will’s next breath is shaky. “Fuck.” It’s clear he understands.

When Whisper steps forward, the herald asks, “How should I announce you?” “Please don’t announce me,” Whisper replies, and enters the hall.

Heart pounding, Whisper’s about to turn away in search of sparkling wine, or something to eat, maybe even someone to talk to. Checking the perimeter. Any distraction to restore his composure. But Rumi’s voice sounds in his head: Julien said to bring you to him when we got here. Rumi likes Julien a lot. He’s one of the few people she calls by their actual names, instead of a description or embarrassing pet name. Glaring, Whisper asks, “Are you conspiring against me?” Yes, Rumi replies smugly.

“His Highness really enjoys getting his cock sucked.” Fisk tilts his head inquisitively. How much Trade has he learned? For what feels like the dozenth time, Whisper says, “I’m not fucking His Highness.” “Of course. That’s exactly what His Highness said.” With a wink, Emile melts back into the crowd.

“This is the prince’s Master of Cats, of course.” “What tipped you off, the way he walked in with two giant cats?”

“First, I hold your hand. Then I touch your back.” His right arm curves around Whisper’s side, and a broad, warm palm presses between Whisper’s shoulder blades, slides down. Rests in the small of Whisper’s back, radiating heat. Left palm resting against Julien’s shoulder, Whisper leans in with the faint pressure. He’s never been this warm in his life. “And then?” “Then I get to look into your eyes for the next two hours,” Julien says. “Simple, right?”

This isn’t Rue magic anymore, or Sandry magic. This magic is his. This forest is his. Will is his.

Whisper braces himself against Julien, inhaling him, and Julien keeps him from falling, even though this moment is impossible. Because Julien can’t be here now. Julien is back in the castle, where he’s safe. He’s not here putting himself in danger for something as stupid as rescuing Whisper. People don’t rescue Whisper.

Clutching Julien’s shoulders, his neck, Whisper drags him closer. Everywhere he touches Julien, he leaves traces of drying blood—but all Whisper cares about is Julien’s lips sliding against his. He forgets to breathe until he gasps into Julien’s mouth. Julien’s kiss unravels him and weaves his heart into something new. Footsteps pause on the stairs. “Your Highness, we’ve secured the rest of the hostages,” Nadine calls out. “What do you—oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll report when you’re done.”

His hands are still so gentle, despite the pain in his voice. “Is that selfish of me?” Whisper’s heart breaks, and from the shattered glass spills out all the want he’s tried so hard to contain. All the fear, all the desperate self-preservation. It’s already too late. Rejecting Julien won’t change the fact that Julien wants him, or that Whisper wants him too, more than anything.

“You want me,” Whisper says. Julien’s damp hand curves around his neck. “I’d hoped my intentions were clear.” Desire seizes Whisper, controlling him more completely than blood magic ever could. He breathes, “Then be selfish, Your Highness,” and drags Julien into a kiss.

He breathes against Will’s skin, “Come to bed with me, kitten?” Will’s fingers tighten. “You don’t need to ask.” Julien kisses his hand. “I like asking.”