He looked up at them. ‘It’s the same with her. Imagine who she would be if we unleashed her onto the world. I think she would rip the breath from all of us.’
Froi drank more that night than he had ever drunk in his life. Drinking was forbidden by the Guard in Lumatere unless off-duty, and even then it had to be in moderation. But Froi was sick of bonds. Sick of moderation. Sick of having to hold back.
The next morning, however, Froi wished he had held back. With little memory of what they did the night before, all three of them were summoned to the Provincaro’s library.
De Lancey was there to remind them of everything, fury in his expression.
‘Exposing yourselves? To the locals?’
Froi vaguely remembered that part.
‘Drunk? Singing bawdy songs about the gods of other kingdoms? Pissing in the prized gardens of Lady Orsa?’
Grijio looked shamefaced. Olivier pretended to. Froi’s head was spinning too hard for anything to make sense.
‘The Avanosh puppets think this is a province of debauchery!’
Grijio looked up. ‘You’ve never cared what people say about us, Father. About the way we live.’
‘But the rule has always been to conduct yourself with dignity, Grij. To have respect for others so you can demand respect back. There was nothing, nothing dignified about your behaviour last night, or those women.’
Women? Why didn’t Froi remember women? How could he not remember women?
‘What women?’ he asked Olivier, as they walked out.
‘They want to meet us tonight,’ Olivier whispered. ‘Are you in, Grij? Froi?’
‘They are so much older,’ Grijio said. “What do you think they’ll want from us?’
At the entrance to the courtyard they bumped into Feliciano of the Red Tights, as Olivier insisted on calling him. Froi had a hazy memory of strands of a song they penned for Red Tights the night before at the inn. Words to suggest that Feliciano’s trousers resembled a sock and Froi was sure that the word describing Feliciano himself rhymed with sock.
‘My betrothed and I would appreciate less noise when you arrive home,’ the heir to Avanosh said pompously. ‘It woke us last night.’
Feliciano was pinned to the wall before Froi could count out his bond, a hand to the other lad’s throat. Olivier and Grijio pulled Froi away before his fist could connect.
The moment he could escape, Feliciano scampered down the stairs. Froi pulled free of the others and walked back to his chamber. The image of Quintana and that idiot together last night, today and forever, made him want to kill someone.
Suddenly Lirah was at the top of the steps, her hand on his arm to stop him.
‘Where have you been for sunrise these last days, Froi?’ Lirah’s voice was always blunt, emotionless. ‘Gargarin says you’re not yourself.’
‘Gargarin doesn’t know who I am,’ he snapped, ‘so how could he possible know I’m not myself?’
‘Well, he would like you to come visit,’ she said, her voice calm. ‘He needs to speak to you urgently. This business with Avanosh is a worry.’
‘I’m not his messenger boy,’ Froi said. ‘He has you for that. A good deal for him, indeed,’ he added spitefully. ‘He gets to bed you and you run errands for him.’
She stared at him, a flash of anger and hurt in her eyes. She nodded, as though comprehending his words. ‘Well, there it is,’ she said. ‘There’s the Serker male. Can only express pain through bitter words.’ She let her hand drop and walked away.
Froi took a deep breath and turned back down the steps again. He was in the mood to find Feliciano again and tell him exactly what he thought of him. But outside in the courtyard he could only find Olivier and Grijio.
‘Tonight,’ he said. ‘If you’re up to it again, I’m in.’
Chapter 38
No matter how hard they tried, Froi and the lads were unable to lose De Lancey’s guard that night. The three had to settle for drinking in the ale house under close watch.
‘I can’t believe that if I take a woman tonight, my guard will probably stand at the foot of the bed and give instruction,’ Grijio said, forlorn. ‘I need to get out of Paladozza.’
Olivier laughed. ‘And there are those who would die to live here. Our lad,’ Olivier explained to Froi, ‘is frightened that the Princess will be the only girl he’ll ever have laid with.’
‘We didn’t actually lay with each other,’ Grijio said. ‘She made me leave the moment it was over, and believe me, it was over in the blink of an eye. She was very particular about not sharing her bed. Wasn’t she, Froi?’
Froi looked from one to the other. ‘What impression have I given either of you that I want to hear or discuss anything about the Princess and lastborns and Consorts?’ he said, anger lacing his words. He was fighting with all his might not to think of Quintana and that idiot Feliciano.
Olivier called for another round of drinks and the subject of Quintana was finished with. But after a pint or two, Olivier leaned forward and ushered them towards him.
‘I don’t trust the Avanosh lot. Why would the Provincaro of Sebastabol not have sent that note through me?’
‘The seal was there. My father saw it,’ Grijio said.
‘I still don’t trust them.’
Froi studied the lastborn. ‘What are you thinking, Olivier?’
Olivier looked over their shoulders to where Froi knew De Lancey’s guard was standing watch.
‘We do what you and I and Satch and Tariq set out to do in the Citavita, Grij,’ Olivier said. ‘We save Quintana.’ His eyes caught Froi’s and he winked. ‘We give her a chance to unleash herself onto the world.’
Froi stared at him.
‘When?’
‘This is going too fast, lads,’ Grijio said.
‘Not fast enough,’ Olivier responded. ‘Yesterday they met. Today betrothed. Tomorrow she’ll be gone and we will not be able to protect her.’
‘Maybe Avanosh is the safest place for her,’ Grijio said, regret in his voice.
Froi would never believe that to be true.
‘Maybe,’ Olivier said. ‘But maybe they’re under orders from Sorel and one day we will be part of that heinous kingdom of prison mines and slavery.’
Froi was on his feet. He could hardly breathe at the thought of his son and Quintana in Sorel with no one to protect them. Olivier grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him back down.
‘You can take Quintana through one of the caves that lead up to the central hills,’ Olivier whispered. ‘I can lead you, Froi. I know the way.’
‘Then I’ll come to,’ Grijio said.
‘No, you need to stay here, Grij,’ Olivier insisted. ‘To give them false leads. They need to think we’ve travelled south or east.’
‘Just say …’ Grijio began, looking at Froi cautiously.
‘Just say what?’ Froi demanded.
‘Just say Quintana may not believe she needs saving?’ Grijio said. ‘I saw her with Feliciano today and she seemed charmed, alarmingly so.’
Froi had noticed too. Quintana was a tamer person in the presence of the Avanosh lot.
Olivier sat up straight and suddenly a grin appeared on his face.
‘We’ll speak of this again later,’ he said. ‘The women are approaching.’
A moment later Froi felt a hand run through his hair and then he saw a pretty face and lips painted red.
‘This one is mine,’ she said, pulling him to his feet. He looked into her eyes, warm and laughing eyes, but not those he wanted to be looking into. Not the face. Not the body with the round belly and strange scars. Not Quintana.
‘I’m bonded to two women,’ he blurted out because it was the ale speaking and Froi was coming to realise that he was very stupid under the influence of ale.
‘Well, aren’t we the intriguing one?’ she whispered in his ear.