Page 85 of Heartbreak Prince

Frowning a little, I close the door again. “You shouldn’t have to do that. I’m supposed to protect you. I’m afraid I’m not very good at my job.”

“You got me here safely, didn’t you?”

“You had to do the last bit of the journey yourself, dragging my wounded ass along with you.”

“And I’d do it again.” He throws his soiled clothes into a basket, yanks open a pair of slatted doors, and disappears into the closet beyond. I can hear him dragging open drawers, pulling clothes off hangers, and tossing things around.

When he emerges, he isn’t wearing anything like the traditional finery of his first outfit. His style now is much more akin to a debauched party in Kyr or a feast with the fashionable elite of Zeletas. Tight pants, a cropped shirt, bracelets, and rings on every finger of his right hand, linked by slender chains. Instead of the modest studs he was wearing before, crystal earrings dangle from his lobes.

As he breezes past me, I catch a whiff of violet perfume.

“Do you think Lady Kaenan will approve of this?” I ask.

He shrugs. “She hasn’t approved of me in a long time.”

“Vawn. She loves you.”

“Of course she does. That’s not what I said.”

“At least take a jacket. Out of respect for the Lady’s preferred aesthetic for this event.”

“Mind your business, bodyguard. I don’t give a shit about her preferred aesthetic. She should have known—” He stops speaking abruptly and charges back into the closet.

I look down at the ostentatious ballgown I’m wearing. “We’re not going to match,” I call after him.

“Do we fucking have to?”

A moment later, he stalks out of the closet, wearing the jacket I recommended. Its clean lines and dark material are a compromise between a traditional dinner coat and a modern one. But he still looks every inch the Naughty Prince.

“Clean your teeth,” I advise him. “You’re going to be speaking to a lot of people, and I’m not sure the snow did enough to sweeten your breath.”

He pouts his full lips at me. “You’re a harsh critic.” But he goes into the bathroom without any further complaint.

When we return downstairs, we’re given our masks. Vawn receives a solid blue one dotted with scarlet crystals like drops of frozen blood. It covers his upper face while leaving his pretty mouth on display, and the wide eyeholes give him plenty of room to work the expressive magic of his gaze. I wear a translucent pink mask shaped like the face of a fanged panther, designed to veil and distort my features rather than concealing them entirely.

As Lord and Lady Kaenan welcome their guests and introduce them to the prince, I stand nearby, toying with the knives I concealed in the pockets of my gown. I’m not sure how well I could wield them, especially with my littlest finger on my right hand being splinted to its neighbor until it heals. That injury and the stitches along the left side of my stomach make me feel like half a bodyguard—far less competent than usual.

I wish I had all my glyphs again. Perhaps tonight, after everyone leaves, I can persuade Vawn to repaint them. He hasn’t redone his own glyph set either. The bounty hunters damaged his nails badly, and the one finger that nearly desiccated needs more time to heal.

Vawn finishes greeting an elderly couple, and the next person in the receiving line steps forward. She’s a tall woman with white-blonde hair, introduced by Lady Kaenan as “General Tana Centune, in charge of border security at the Balsamic Gate, the one closest to Anyssir Castle.”

Lady Kaenan told me this event was strategic, and General Centune’s presence confirms that fact. The Exemplar knows which direction we’ve been fleeing, and he has probably guessed our destination. If he has any people among the soldiers at the border, they’ll be on alert, watching for the prince. And since the Grey Province border guard includes a contingent of wyverns, crossing into Tularesk won’t be as simple as flying the carpet over a wall.

Some of the border guards might let us pass, out of deference to the prince and loyalty to their dead king. Others might be too afraid of the Redemptive Authority or too greatly tempted by the reward being offered for the prince.

Without the help of the Kaenans and General Centune, there’s little chance Vawn and I could make it to the Celestial Seat where the Twin Lieges reside—and he knows it as well as I do.

“General Centune,” says Vawn smoothly, taking the woman’s hand and lifting it briefly to his lips. “Beautiful as ever. You haven’t aged a day.”

“I’m surprised you remember me,” she says stiffly.

“Of course I do. We met a few years ago, at my brother’s birthday party. A grand event, to be sure, and one that got rather out of hand.” He winks.

“As I recall, you were responsible for that,” the general replies.

“You’re not wrong. Perhaps I will work a little of my chaos tonight as well. Please enjoy yourself. I hope to find you again later. It shouldn’t be difficult, since you’re one of the loveliest ladies here.”

The general’s face softens at the flattery. Like everyone else, she’s not immune to the charms of a beautiful prince. “I look forward to it. Lady Kaenan has kindly offered to let me stay here tonight, so I’m sure we’ll have a chance to speak again.”