Page 67 of The Crimson Throne
What’ll Alyth do to me when she finds out I’m staying?
Darnley’s got none of those ribbons of color ’round him. No one in his group does. He’s not fae? Or maybe the colors meant something else—magic being used. Because not all the fae creatures I’ve seen let off glows, just the ones that appear to be doing magic, so—
My head aches, and I rub at the back of my neck.
“Samson. Yes.” His eyes go to my collar, but even if I were wearing that necklace, I’m bundled up. “Come hunting with us. There is much we must discuss.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Smile. Smile and act like being in his presence is the greatest honor of your life. “I’m most appreciative of the offer. Been bored off my arse here.”
It’s a risk, cursing ’round him. But I’m betting on the fact that he’ll love me talking down about Mary’s setup.
He does.
His head throws back with a cracking laugh, and he smacks the shoulder of the man next to him. “Hear that, Balfour? One day with Mary, and this one’s scratching to escape.” He points at me. “We knew you had a proper head on your shoulders, boy.”
Boy? We’re about the same age, you git.
Balfour adjusts his cloak with a grumble. “I said we shouldn’t have even come here. My house at Kirk o’ Field isn’t far, and the hunting’s worlds better to the east. We should leave all this baptizing shite to the women.”
Darnley considers. My brain catches up in a flinch—he’s honestly considering leaving his son’s baptism because it isn’t entertaining enough.
But he bats his hand. “Just a week or so more, until the celebration’s over. That’ll be grand. Then we’ll go to your house, Balfour.”
The man grunts in confirmation. He and the rest file around Darnley, heading into the stables, calling out for horses to be readied. Other stable hands come running; not Callum, I note.
Darnley takes a step past me to follow his group, but I block his way outside the door of the stables.
“Sir, a moment,” I whisper, throwing a cautious look around for his benefit. Playing up the secrecy, because he’ll want to feel important.
It works—his brows go up, and his lips pulse with a faint smile. “Yes?”
We’re more or less alone for the moment, but once we’re mounted up for the hunt, there won’t actually be much time for conversation, despite what he said. This is about winning his favor.
If I’m risking Alyth’s wrath by staying, I’m gonna get this bastard on my side. I’m gonna come out of this on top.
My throat still aches. The cuts from Alyth’s knife have closed over, but each swallow is rough from the magic that pinned me. That look in her eyes won’t vanish from my mind in a hurry either. Her flaming fury, all potent and harsh, had no business being as beautiful as it was.
I shake it away, shoving out thoughts of her. She’d sooner kill me than trust me now. That airy, bubbly feeling in my gut at the thought of her needs to go right away.
The girl held aknife to my throat. I shouldn’t still be fancying her.
There’s something wrong with me.
I go all in. “My instructions past this are unclear,” I tell Darnley, keeping my voice low, conspiratorial. “Am I to turn the necklace over to you?”
It’s a gamble, seeing as Alyth’s got it, but I can make up excuses.
Darnley smirks at me with the ego of a god doling out instructions to mortals. “No. You’ve done well. Hold it for now. The time for further action will present itself soon.”
I swallow, my sore throat aching, and bow my head. I already knew he was in on this, but his easy confirmation sets off quakes in my gut.
I’m close now. On the right path.
“Until then.” Darnley smacks my arm and heads into the stable, shouting about how it’s taking too long to saddle the horses.
I follow him but slip aside to stow my bags in the tack room—and find Callum cowering behind a mound of saddles.
He jumps when I enter, but his face relaxes instantly. “All right, sir?”
