CHAPTER 45: The Most Obvious Escape is Thorough the...

  Harmon slammed the windows shut. Her hands shook as she picked up her instruments and shoved them into their cases. The precious strings and delicate buttons she had so cherished now irked her. She stormed over to the makeup desk, glaring at the delicate cherry wood. With a furious snarl, she sent the expensive powders and brushes flying.

  Her breath hitched. She clutched at her temple, eyes watering at the sudden nausea.

  She was a mess.

  Her room was even worse off. It looked like a furious storm had passed through.

  Harmon’s breath came in ragged gasps. None of it mattered because-

  Elody was gone.

  She clenched her eyes shut, her fists trembling with guilt. It was all her fault. Harmon was the older sister, the protector. She should’ve done something. Now, all that was of her sister were blood splatters and the clear signs of a struggle. Elody had given her kidnappers a fair fight, but even as the servants scrubbed the bloodstains and cleared the scattered dirt and shattered vases, there was no sign as to where they had taken her.

  Or whether she was still alive.

  Madam Athena forbade anyone to mention what had happened. The bruises on Harmon’s wrist were a silent warning for those who attempted to press the issue.

  Kneeling, she pried at the floorboard with her hairpin. The delicate gold bent but served its purpose in lifting the board. She placed it back in her hair. Underneath the floorboards sat a large pouch of coins. She tossed the pouch into her satchel. At least she had something from all these years.

  A knock at the door made her freeze.

  “Who is it?” she snapped.

  There was a pause.

  “Dinner, ma’am.”

  “I don’t want it,” she growled, shoving the floorboard back into place. “Take it back.”

  Her sharp ears made out the awkward shuffling and hushed whispers. It was clear they weren’t going to leave so easily.

  “Madam Athena insisted, ma’am,” came another voice, deeper now.

  A guard? Harmon’s heart raced. She kicked the satchel under her bed. “Fine,” she glanced around the messy room. “Come in.”

  The door swung open. Two servants trotted in, carefully balancing a tray of food. The plates were filled with her favorite delicacies, made masterfully and with incredible care. The mouth-watering scent filled the room.

  Harmon’s eyes narrowed. Did Madam Athena really believe she could buy her off?

  “Set them on the table and leave at once,” ordered the courtesan.

  As she turned to glare at them, Harmon froze. A sick feeling coiled in her stomach. “Why are you both covering your faces?”

  The golden veil was too flashy to belong to a mere servant. And that lowered hood… whose identity was it hiding?

  Harmon got to her feet, unease prickling up her spine. “Who are you?”

  The smaller of the two barked a laugh, the voice clearly belonging to a woman. “Well, it seems our ruse has been discovered.”

  Before Harmon could register what was happening, the smaller servant burst forward to grab her by the collar. “Very well,” the woman lifted the courtesan off the floor. “I’ll make it easier for you.”

  “Let go,” Harmon choked, thrashing in the iron grip. “Let go of me!” Her sharp nails dug into her assailant’s skin, but it only made them lift her higher.

  Harmon was a tall woman, taller than the other, but the smaller one hoisted her up with ease.

  Amber eyes regarded her sharply. “I wonder what secrets you’re hiding,” she mused. The grip tightened, hard enough to bruise. “They must be important if your sister begged Rufus for help.”

  Harmon’s eyes went wide. They knew where her sister was? Her anger flared amidst the panic. This wasn’t a random encounter. These people were the ones who had taken Elody!

  With a dismissive flick, the woman tossed her at the masked man’s feet. Harmon groaned, attempting to push herself up.

  With the grace of a king, the other woman sat on the cushioned seat. “Usually, I’m not so harsh on my rivals. But the poor kid insisted.” She crossed her legs and shot an expectant look at the masked man.

  “Come on, Snowfox,” the woman encouraged. “Just like I taught you.” She made a chopping motion with her hand.

  Her partner hesitated.

  Hope flared in Harmon’s heart as she blinked up at him pitifully. He glanced at the fallen courtesan and then the tray of food he was still holding. The pause was all Harmon needed.

  She scrambled toward the door and flung it open. “Help!”

  CRASH!

  The room went silent for a split second as Harmon slumped to the ground, dazed by the impact. Her head throbbed. She blinked blearily to see the female servant standing, arm still extended from where she’d thrown a wine vase directly at the courtesan’s head.

  Harmon’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she lost consciousness.

  “Maybe it’s not Nikolai who has feelings for her, but you!” Faye leveled a disappointed look at the masked man, hands on her hips.

  The other sighed heavily. He stepped over the unconscious woman. Setting the tray down gently, he bent to scoop Harmon up like she weighed nothing.

  “You can’t hesitate,” Faye pouted, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. “It’s all in the wrist. Fast and sharp then- BAM!”

  He kicked the wine vase and assortment of destroyed trinkets to the side, walking towards Harmon’s bed. Any suggestion that he had feelings for the courtesan was erased by the unceremonious way he dumped her on the mattress, uncaring as her head clacked against the bed frame. Even Faye winced at the noise.

  “Really, Snowfox?” Faye rolled her eyes. “At least show a little remorse for the mess you’re making.”

  The masked man yanked open the closet doors, tossing the odd items behind him. “She’ll be fine,” he muttered, tone detached. “Maybe a little too fine.” There! He picked up the rope.

  With a laugh, Faye leaned over his shoulder to pluck it from his hands. “That’s no way to treat Nikolai’s lover!” Bounding over to the bed, she hummed happily as she bound the courtesan’s wrists. “Looks like I got it all wrong. You’re even more excited to do this than I am!”

  Her teasing was met with a grunt.

  “That’s not a no!” Faye teased, grin wide and knowing.

  He crossed his arms and looked away.

  BANG!

  They tensed at the sound of the door slamming open.

  Only to see the plump manager from before. Catching sight of them, his frustrated expression twisted into one of suspicion.

  “What happened to Lady Harmon?” he demanded, appalled at the scene of chaos.

  The refined courtesan’s head rested limply against her chest as she slumped against the wooden bed frame. Drool dribbled out the side of her mouth. How could this be the symbol of the Lucky Charm’s grace and elegance!

  Crouching by the courtesan’s side, Faye slapped her face with an exaggerated motion. “Lady Harmon? Please wake up,” she chirped innocently. “Well, sir. It’s no use.”

  Shaking her head, Faye mimed the motion of downing a drink. “I think she had a bit too much of her own medicine, huh?”

  “She was like this when we came in.” The masked man handed the manager the empty wine vase. “We found this by her bed.”

  By the door, the pool of purple liquid was a stain against the polished wood. It stood out like a guilty culprit.

  The manager threw his hands up in a panic. “It is absolute chaos downstairs!” For a moment, he forgot about his suspicions to join Faye. “Wake up, Lady Harmon! Don’t just stand there! Help me rouse her!” He slapped Harmon’s cheeks with the desperation of a man about to lose their job.

  Faye was only too happy to oblige. “Time to rise, Lady Harmon!”

  The manager swatted at Faye’s hands with a shriek. “Not the face! Keep the face pristine!”

  Faye nodded earnestly. “Of course, sir.” And resorted to shaking the courtesan roughly, like a rag doll.

  The manager held his head in his hands. The man’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the bump on Harmon’s head. His face turned a bright shade of red. “I’m going to kill her! How could she ruin her face on such an important night!”

  Faye nodded empathetically. “Such irresponsibility.” She gave a theatrical sigh. “Don’t they know their performance affects us too? Who’d even look at them if not for us servants attending their every need and service?”

  “My dear, you are possibly the only sane one in this establishment.” The manager gestured for the masked man. “Cold water, now! That’ll wake her up for sure!”

  The masked man didn’t move.

  “Hurry boy, we’re in a-“

  CLANG!

  The manager slumped over, knocked out cold by the tray someone had nonchalantly swung.

  Faye paused in her shaking to glance between the manager’s unconscious body and the dented tray. “Really, Snowfox? Was that necessary?”

  With a shrug, the masked man tossed the tray to the side. “I think I’m starting to get it.” He paused. “You’re right. It is all in the wrist.’

  The Raven General rolled her eyes. “Took you long enough.” Her lips jutted out into a thoughtful frown. “Now, how do we get her out of here?”

  Their gazes fixed back on the two slumped bodies.

  “They’re certain to have this place surrounded,” considered Faye, peeking out the window. She could make out the dark shapes patrolling the rooftops and terraces.

  The Hounds were stationed at every exit, the servant ones included. They likely had the windows and rooftops watched as well.

  The masked man crossed his arms. “Then, we go out where they least expect it.”

  He lifted the curtain to glance at the dark streets below. A crowd had formed around the Lucky Charm’s entrance, all attempting to catch sight of the drama.

  Faye raised an incredulous brow, but a smile tugged at her lips as she caught on. “We’ll need better disguises then.”

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  A tall, pale courtesan glided through the halls, barely sparing a glance at the shouting match still raging on the main floor. Their face was obscured by a pale blue veil, matching the hood draped over their short hair.

  Beside them, a young manager weaved through the throng of men, who gawked openly at the ethereal beauty passing by.

  “She must be new,” one patron whispered to his drinking companion.

  Despite the modesty of her long sleeves and floor-length dress, the fabric clung tightly in places, practically bursting at the seams over her flat chest. Her broad shoulders were draped in a pink petticoat, an odd contrast to the usual delicate courtesan attire.

  “You can barely see her,” grunted the other man, taking a swig.

  The first patron elbowed him in amusement. “That’s the beauty of it.”

  The manager, grinning widely, piped up in a high, cheerful voice. “Excuse me, my lords. Courtesan Nicole is very busy. We must be on our way.” Despite their small frame, they were effortlessly propping up an unconscious figure, dragging them along the halls. “This one had too much to drink.”

  The slumped body was tall and lean, dressed in men’s clothes. A young scholar, they figured, judging by their delicate features. Their long hair was hastily gathered in a messy bun, and their red cheeks hinted at an overly stimulating night … or at least, that was the illusion.

  “Better get him home!” the patrons chuckled knowingly. The Lucky Charm always ensured their customers were well taken care of. “Boy! Order a fancy carriage and put it on his tab.”

  The manager beamed. “Wonderful suggestion, sir!”

  The unconscious figure groaned faintly, only to receive a firm shake from the manager. “Now, now, behave,” they chided.

  The courtesan in blue sighed softly, as if this entire charade was beneath them.

  Just as they neared the exit, a grimy hand shot out, seizing the courtesan’s pale arm.

  “You boys, go ahead!” a burly patron slurred, eyeing the courtesan appreciatively. “But this one stays with us.” He yanked the arm toward his table, smirking as the courtesan stumbled forward with a muffled grunt. “Come on, pretty lady.”

  The manager stilled, eyes narrowing.

  The man’s fat fingers latched onto the courtesan’s veil, pulling them closer till their breaths mingled. His grin faltered slightly as he took in the oddly strong jawline, the faint grimace forming on unexpectedly sharp features.

  He shivered as a faint chill enveloped him.

  Laughter erupted from the surrounding patrons.

  “Pour me a drink, lovely creature,” the drunkard purred.

  With a quiet sigh, the courtesan bent down, reaching for the wine vase. Even though their head was lowered, they still loomed over the other man. And their posture was eerily composed. If the two stood, it was clear the courtesan would stand about two heads taller. They poured the wine hastily and set the vase down with a forceful thud.

  An arched brow lifted expectantly.

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  The patron downed the drink in one gulp, slamming the cup back down. “More!”

  The courtesan sneered and knocked the wine vase over. The red liquid cascaded across the table and spilled straight into the man’s lap.

  He yelped, leaping back. “You clumsy slut!”

  The courtesan merely shrugged.

  “Apologies,” they murmured in a surprisingly deep voice. “Let me go fetch a cloth for you.”

  “No,” the man growled, his meaty fingers locking around their arm once more. He barely managed to encircle the muscular forearm.

  “You there! Go fetch the towel!” he barked at the stunned manager, pulling the courtesan into his lap. His voice lowered. “I like them feisty.”

  He winced at the unexpected weight. “By the gods, you must eat well,” but still leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss to the pale, long neck. He smirked at the fuming manager. “Boy, I said, go fetch the towel.”

  Amber eyes darkened. “Let her go!”

  The teacup flew out of the patron’s hand before anyone could react.

  CRASH!

  The porcelain shattered against the wall, barely missing the manager’s head by an inch. They had dodged it with inhuman speed. Wide eyes stared at the sharp shards. If the young manager hadn’t moved as fast as they did…

  But they weren’t fazed.

  “You missed,” they taunted, voice dark with the promise of something far more dangerous. “Want to try again?”

  The patron’s face burned with fury, until something cold pressed against his throat. His eyes darted downward. The fury chilled instantly, replaced with stark terror.

  A dagger gleamed against his jugular, steady and unforgiving.

  But it wasn’t just the blade that chilled him. It was the courtesan’s eyes. Dangerous, cold blue, and sharp as ice. Utterly devoid of hesitation.

  The patron barely dared to breathe.

  Nikolai hadn’t complained when the man grabbed him. Hadn’t flinched at the leering gaze or the unwanted touch. But the moment the teacup had flown at Faye, when she had narrowly dodged its shattering arc, that was when the dagger appeared.

  Faye hadn’t reacted beyond her daunting dare, her face unreadable. But the way her fingers twitched, hovering just inches from where her sword would normally rest, said enough.

  “If you scream or so much as twitch before we are out of that door,” Nikolai murmured, his voice now unmistakably male. “I will slit your throat.”

  The patron paled. “You’re… you’re a man,” he squeaked.

  The cold steel pressed harder against his pulse.

  “Not another word,” the patron blurted out. “I swear it.”

  The fake courtesan held his gaze for a moment more before lowering their weapon. “Push me away, dismiss me, and forget everything you saw.”

  “Thank you,” the patron’s lips wobbled. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  There was a cold chuckle. “Save your breath,” he nodded at the staring manager. “I am not the one you should fear.”

  With frantic obedience, the man shoved him off. He waved them away as if desperate to erase the last few minutes from his memory. His hands shook as he reached for his drink.

  The courtesan bowed lazily and strolled unhurriedly to the manager’s side.

  Faye was still watching. Her expression was set in a frown, except for the slight tilt of her head. Her eyes lingered on the dagger as it vanished back into Nikolai’s sleeve.

  So, the Snowfox had a vicious side to him.

  As he joined her, his gaze lingered on the small bleeding cut on her ear. It seemed Faye hadn’t dodged entirely.

  Together, they descended the last flight of stairs, moving swiftly towards the lavish entrance.

  “Almost blew our cover there,” she murmured lightly.

  Blue eyes glanced at her and then fixed back on their target.

  “He crossed a line.”

  She stared wide-eyed as he pushed ahead. Faye sighed. It was probably the kiss. She would have done much worse if she was in his place.

  At the bottom of the steps, the doorman barely looked at the odd trio. With the veil still in place, and Faye’s steady prattling about an overindulgent patron, there was no reason for suspicion. Even the Hounds loitering near the entrance were too caught up in the ensuing brawl on the main floor to care. They were on the lookout for a lone courtesan trying to escape… not a drunk patron, a gangly courtesan, and their chattering manager.

  When Faye dared to ask a guard for directions, they even gestured to some random street in the distance.

  No one stopped them.

  No one even looked twice.

  As soon as they stepped onto the cobbled streets to join the forming crowd, Nikolai exhaled sharply. His eye twitched as he ripped off the satin veil. Although Harmon was taller than most woman and Faye would have drowned in her clothes… why exactly was he the one who had to play the courtesan?

  Faye’s smirk deepened, as though she could hear the exact thoughts running through his mind.

  He scowled. “Not a word.”

  She snorted, barely stifling her giggles. “Of course, Snowfox.” She wiped at her eyes, teary from suppressed laughter.

  His eyes narrowed as she muffled another laugh. “I’m serious, princess!”

  “Yes, yes,” snickered Faye. “I promise, Snowfox.”

  But the way her shoulders shook made him doubt the sincerity of that promise.

  Just as they reached the street corner-

  “Lady Harmon is gone!” someone shouted from inside.

  Madam Athena and the Hounds froze mid-argument, staring at each other in dawning realization.

  “Find her!” the matron snapped.

  The leader of the Hounds whirled around to his men. “Tighten the perimeters and secure all windows and rooftops.” He jabbed a finger at the matron. “Where did they go, witch?"

  She crossed her arms. “How would I know? I’ve been here arguing with you the entire time!”

  Another pair of Hounds hurried in. “She’s nowhere in sight! We have eyes everywhere!”

  “Search this place, she must be hiding inside!” he gritted out.

  There was a pause.

  “It’s not like she walked out the front door!”

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  Just around the corner, Nikolai and Faye carefully adjusted Harmon’s unconscious form between them. The scent of damp stone and lantern oil lingered in the late hour, masking the adrenaline thrumming beneath their skin.

  “Well,” Nikolai muttered, adjusting his grip on Harmon’s deadweight. “That was easier than expected.”

  Faye barked a laugh, the sound rich with the thrill of their success. She squeezed his shoulder, grinning. “We make a good team, Snowfox.”

  His mask raised just enough for her to catch the bemused smirk on his face.

  Before too long, they reached the waiting carriage.

  A stunned Rufus gaped at the sight. He didn’t know what to absorb first. The masked man in a disheveled dress, the unconscious courtesan, or Faye, who looked entirely too pleased with herself.

  It looked like something straight out of a fever dream.

  Standing beside Rufus were Cristin and Darcy. The eye-patched commander double took while Cristin’s jaw dropped. The attendant’s sleep-deprived eyes widened in disbelief. “Darcy, pinch me. I’m hallucinating, I must be.”

  And although Darcy was more restrained, his reaction was caught somewhere between awe and barely suppressed laughter.

  “It seems we have company,” Faye noted dryly, waving cheerfully at the group. Her gaze landed on Cristin, noting the way he paced anxiously. She realized that she hadn’t seen much of him recently. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “You said the sisters were under Cristin’s command,” she murmured, amber eyes noting the way the masked man stiffened slightly. “Any other master would have punished him for such a mistake.”

  At once, her gaze dawned with understanding.

  The Ice Prince was a calculative man, and though she never doubted his intelligence, this entire fiasco had made her question his intentions. For him to let such dangerous pawns go free…

  But this was never about the sister courtesans. Nor was it about love or betrayal.

  Her head tilted, voice dropping to something softer, almost amazed. “Nikolai did this to save Cristin,” she realized aloud.

  A dangerous sacrifice. One that kept Cristin’s hands clean, even if it risked staining Nikolai’s own.

  The masked man remained silent for a moment. He adjusted his hold on Harmon. “You should head back to the residence first.”

  Faye looked ready to protest, but an exhausted yawn betrayed her. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Very well.” A knowing grin curved on her lips. “Until next time, partner.”

  Nikolai didn’t reply. He merely turned and tossed Harmon unceremoniously into Cristin’s arms. He noted the way the attendant’s gaze flicked over her form with worry.

  Darcy stepped forward. “What happened, my-“ He caught himself, darting a glance at Rufus, but the boy was too focused on poking Harmon’s cheek to notice.

  “She’s alive, isn’t she?” the young lord asked fearfully. His voice laced with uncertainty.

  “What do you think?” came the masked man’s sharp response.

  “Here, let me.” The boy took her from Cristin’s arms. He stumbled slightly under the unconscious weight. What did they eat in Feldgrau that these men were able to carry her so effortlessly? He flushed in embarrassment under Cristin’s judging gaze, adjusting his grip despite the way his muscles burned. Maybe he was just out of shape, he groaned internally.

  Cristin sighed, “Just take her to the carriage.”

  The boy hurried to obey.

  Darcy scratched the back of his neck. He glanced at the blue dress on his lord’s frame. “Are you…”

  “Follow Faye,” Nikolai muttered, already shrugging off the pink petticoat in distaste. “Make sure she gets back to the Residence in one piece. She has a penchant for getting sidetracked.”

  Darcy hesitated, clearly itching for more information. But after a beat, he resigned himself to asking Cristin later. He adjusted his eyepatch with a sigh. “Yes, sir.” Nikolai reached out to grip Darcy’s arm. “She has a cut on her ear. Get Johnathan to make sure it isn’t infected.”

  Darcy’s brow rose. He was certain it’d take more than a cut to take down the Raven General, but he nodded. “I will, my lord.” He hurried off.

  Rufus stalked towards the carriage, Harmon’s unconscious form held tightly in his arms.

  At last, Nikolai exhaled. He plucked the golden hairpin from his hair. He flicked the trinket to the side with a grimace. It landed in the mud like a discarded toy.

  Cristin bent down to pick it up, silently slipping it into his cloak. The lord pursed his lips but didn’t comment.

  Running his fingers through his hair, Nikolai ruffled it, shaking off the oppressive weight of the disguise. Did courtesans endure this every night? He pitied them.

  Cristin, ever the loyal attendant, leaned in. “My liege…”

  “It was for the mission,” came the curt response. Nikolai’s sharp look dared the other to press further.

  “Ah, of course,” Cristin leaned back, crossing his arms. A knowing smirk played at his lips. “I’m sure it wasn’t a certain Raven General’s suggestion,” he hummed, just loud enough for the other to hear.

  Nikolai’s brows furrowed as he peeled off the mask, using his sleeve to wipe his face.

  Cristin stilled.

  His lord’s ears… were they red? And he was flushing!

  “So it was her idea!”

  A skirt hit him square in the face.

  Spluttering, Cristin barely managed to catch the fabric, staring at it in disbelief. Did the lord expect him to keep it? Dispose of it? Burn it as evidence?

  “My lord, this dress, do you wish to-” Cristin started cautiously, but the lord’s voice cut through his uncertainty.

  “Are you able to carry out the rest of this operation alone?”

  The question struck deeper than it should have. Cristin straightened. Guilt gnawed at his ribs as he nodded solemnly. “Yes, my liege.”

  They both turned to watch as Rufus, with Elody’s help, secured Harmon inside the carriage. The younger sister fussed over her sibling, tears of relief streaking down her face as she engulfed the young lord in a grateful embrace.

  Cristin’s hands clenched. he stared at the ground, regret swirling inside him, choking him.

  “I failed you,” he murmured.

  “No,” Nikolai said simply, glancing down at the mask in his hands. “Rewanna outplayed us this time.”

  The casual dismissal twisted in Cristin’s gut. For all the times people called him the Ice Prince, sometimes, he feared his lord was too kind.

  The three idiots were oblivious to the magnitude of mercy they had been granted. As the lord and courtesan shared a tearful goodbye and their greatest threat slept on, Cristin’s jaw tightened. They had betrayed their master and jeopardized everything, yet they were allowed to walk away, unpunished. The two sisters were traitors. By the old laws of Feldgrau…

  “Cristin, I’ve made my decision.”

  Nikolai’s cool gaze locked onto his. He shifted, a flicker of hesitation breaking through his usual composure. Beneath the blank expression, however, sat something softer, an unspoken emotion that was deeply sincere. Cristin had always known the passionate fire hidden beneath the Ice Prince’s exterior, but it was rare to see it expressed so openly.

  Perhaps the Raven General had influenced him with her fiery ways, if only a little.

  “Are you certain, my lord?” Cristin gritted out, almost afraid of the answer.

  Nikolai knew there was no coming back from this. The decision was not made lightly. The moment they sent the courtesans away from the capital was something that couldn’t be undone. Harmon and Elody had proven that they valued each other and their safety over loyalty. It wouldn’t be a jump to assume they’d choose the same again. With a steady exhale, Nikolai spoke, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had already chosen his path.

  “Whatever this choice may bring, fortune or harm, is solely on my shoulders.” A gloved hand rested on the attendant’s shoulders. “You are my right hand. If it took saving a hundred courtesans to keep you by my side, I would do it.”

  Cristin had always known where he stood with Nikolai. Duty. Loyalty. A bond neither of them had ever needed to put into words. And yet now, for the first time, it was spoken aloud.

  This was no order. No command. But a sacred vow. A rare admission from the Ice Prince.

  It was proof that Cristin’s devotion to Nikolai was matched only by the lord’s devotion to his people.

  The weight of it settled in Cristin’s chest, steady and undeniable.

  Nikolai stepped forward, crossing the distance between them. There was no hesitation or warmth, only certainty.

  An arm came around Cristin’s back, brief but unwavering. It wasn’t a desperate clutch or an indulgence of sentiment but something far greater. A symbol of trust.

  Cristin sucked in a sharp breath. Nikolai’s back was open to him, unprotected and vulnerable. It felt like a sword had landed in Cristin’s hands, either to defend his lord from harm or to stab him in the back. He shuddered at the mere thought. He reached out to return the gesture.

  For a moment, it felt like they were back in Feldgrau. As teenagers roughhousing by the barracks or taunting passing nobles and merchants.

  Cristin’s breath caught. “How can you trust me after this?”

  The embrace was over in an instant as the Lord of Feldgrau pulled away with the same precision and restraint that governed everything he did.

  “I trust you with my life, Cristin,” came the measured response.

  He slipped his mask back on like a steady shield. “No matter the cost.”

  Cristin shuddered. They were simple words, but they sliced through him with an intensity he hadn’t anticipated. He swallowed hard, a tight knot forming in his throat.

  He knew of two truths that defined the Lord of Feldgrau.

  First, that he was a capable man, worthy of being followed.

  And second, that he was wholly dedicated to his cause of reclaiming his brother’s throne for the exiled crown prince.

  This admission felt like a third truth that Cristin found hard to accept. His voice cracked. “If only I hadn’t trusted them, if I had picked someone better-“

  “Enough, Cristin.”

  Nikolai hesitated, adding on softly, “I know I do not always…” he paused, as if the words were foreign to him. Painful, even. “…show it. But you have never stood alone. This is not your burden to bear solely. And that will not change now.”

  The two men shifted uneasily. Neither of them was accustomed to moments like this.

  Then, as if to restore the natural order of things, Cristin grinned weakly as a thought came to mind. He held out a hand expectantly. “Side by side.”

  Nikolai huffed, clasping the offered hold. “As always.”

  The words were a stupid joke from their youth. Back when the world had seemed impossibly vast, and a banished prince and a soldier’s son had believed anything was possible.

  Nikolai exhaled softly, in a way that was not quite a sigh. “You should know, I never blamed you.”

  Cristin’s throat tightened. “If you change your mind,” he murmured, voice thick. “I would do it. Whatever you asked. In a heartbeat.”

  Nikolai nodded in quiet acknowledgment. He stepped back, letting his arm fall to his side. His mask gleamed under the moonlight, glinting like polished steel. “I’ve made my decision, and I accept whatever comes of it. You must, too.”

  Cristin’s shoulders slumped. He grimaced at the relief that ran through him. He was meant to protect the lord, not the other way around.

  He rubbed at his eyes roughly and shoved the other playfully, voice wavering despite himself. “What happened to the stern Lord of Feldgrau?” he sniffed. “You go visit a fortune teller or something?”

  Nikolai hummed, almost off-handedly. “Something of the sort.”

  “What does that mean?” wheezed Cristin. Since when did Nikolai believe in fortune tellers? He fumed, “What have you been doing? Was it the Raven General’s idea, it must be. She’s corrupting you!”

  The lord sighed, “Cristin, there’s something else I need.”

  Cristin perked up, ever at attention. “Anything, my lord.”

  Nikolai gestured down at his long-sleeved dress. The blue gown was stained with mud and torn at the seams. “I need to change before heading back.”

  Cristin tilted his head. “I don’t have any spare clothes for you.” He glanced around. It was far too late for any tailor to still be open.

  Nikolai regarded him for a long moment. “We’re about the same height.”

  Cristin froze. A creeping dread crawled up his spine. “No. My lord, you are much taller than I!” He shook his head frantically. “My clothes would never fit you!”

  Nikolai shrugged, unfazed by his attendant’s growing fear. “That’s fine.”

  Cristin blanched. “If I give you my clothes, what will I wear then?”

  The Lord of Feldgrau was already pulling off the dress. He never said he was above abusing his power when necessary.

  Cristin’s soul left his body.

  “We’ll switch.”

  The attendant was close to tears. “My lord, you can’t be serious!”

  Faye: Thank you so much for reading! ???

  (Glances at a pouting Nikolai)

  Nikolai: (sighs dramatically) And please, leave a comment or just say hi. ?? (pauses, then adds with a smirk) Or Faye might get sad. ??

  (Faye waves wildly while Nikolai catches her before she trips.)

  Faye & Nikolai: See you next time! ?????