‘No. I—’ Laurent’s golden brows had drawn slightly together, as though he had encountered something that did not make sense. ‘You would really sacrifice your pride over the fate of a handful of slaves?’ He had worn the same look on his face at the ring; he was gazing at Damen as though he was searching for an answer to an unexpected problem. ‘Why?’
Anger and frustration broke free of their bonds. ‘Because I am stuck here in this cage and I have no other way to help them.’ He heard the rage lash in his voice, and tried to force it down, with limited success. His breathing was uneven.
Laurent was staring at him. The little golden frown was etched deeper.
After a moment, Laurent gestured to the guard at the door and Radel was summoned. He arrived presently.
Without taking his eyes off Damen, Laurent said, ‘Has anyone been in or out of this room?’
‘No one but your own staff, Your Highness. As you ordered.’
‘Which of the staff?’
Radel recited a list of names. Laurent said, ‘I want to speak to the guards who were watching over the slave in the gardens.’
‘I’ll send for them personally,’ said Radel, departing on the errand.
‘You think this is a trick,’ said Damen.
He could see from the assessing look on Laurent’s face that he was right. The bitter laughter just came out.
‘Something amuses you?’ Laurent.
‘What would I have to gain from—’ Damen broke off. ‘I don’t know how to convince you. You don’t do anything without a dozen motives. You lie even to your own uncle. This is country of deviousness and deception.’
‘Whereas pure Akielos is free of treachery? The heir dies on the same night as the King and it is merely coincidence that smiles on Kastor?’ said Laurent, silkily. ‘You should kiss the floor when you beg for my favour.’
Of course Laurent would invoke Kastor. They were alike. Damen forcibly reminded himself of why he was here. ‘I apologise. I spoke out of turn.’ Grittily.
Laurent said, ‘If this is a fabrication—if I find you have been moonlighting with emissaries from my uncle—’
‘I haven’t,’ said Damen.
The guard took a little longer to rouse than Radel, who presumably never slept, but they arrived reasonably promptly. Dressed in livery and looking alert, rather than, as might be expected, yawning and trailing bed linen.
‘I want to know who spoke with the slave the night you watched over him in the gardens,’ said Laurent. ‘Nicaise and Vannes I know about.’
‘That was it,’ came the answer. ‘There was no other.’ And then, as Damen felt a sick sensation in his stomach: ‘No. Wait.’
‘Oh?’
‘After you left,’ the guard said, ‘he got a visit from Govart.’
Laurent turned back to Damen, blue eyes like ice.
‘No,’ said Damen, knowing Laurent believed this now to be some scheme of his uncle’s. ‘It’s not what you think.’
But it was too late.
‘Shut him up,’ said Laurent. ‘Try not to leave any new marks. He’s caused enough trouble for me as it is.’
CHAPTER 7
SEEING NO REASON whatsoever to cooperate with that order, Damen stood up.
It had an interesting effect on the guard who brought up short and swung his gaze back to Laurent, seeking further guidance. Radel was also in the room, and at the door stood the tw
o guards who were on watch.