by Lisa Daniels
How dare this police officer even suggest such a thing. Kerrick might not be on the best terms with his father, but that didn’t negate their bonds. Memories of happier times teased through his mind, when his father cared about his legacy. Before the fall of Serpent’s Isle. Before he became more withdrawn, more like a bag of broken porcelain, barely covered by skin. Leaving Kerrick to seek his pleasures and validation elsewhere.
“This is the only valid course of action we can take,” Perran said after a long pause.
“Storm you,” Kerrick spat. “Just storm you. I refuse.”
The police officer’s dark eyes went cold, and his face blank. “It’s probably best for you to go and mingle with the party now. Let everyone see you and speak to you, as I’m sure there will be many concerned about your absence.”
“I’m sure,” Kerrick said, before storming out of the room, Luan hot on his tail. He wanted to escape, to hide somewhere, to do anything except think about what that accursed police officer had said. “Go away,” he snapped at Luan.
The air witch didn’t flinch or act like she even heard him. She kept following.
“I don’t need you following me around.”
Luan smiled darkly. “Since you’re not my boss, you don’t get to tell me what I have to do.”
Morphing into dragon form and attempting to fly off wouldn’t work, either. Not with an air witch. Irritated, Kerrick appeared back in public and painted a smile onto his features as people approached him to talk.
Chapter Five – Luan
They evacuated Kerrick the very next day. They didn’t plan to give the king and his cronies time to arrange for some trumped-up charge, or time to completely block off Kerrick’s exit. Instead, they managed to stride right up to the border control and state that the prince intended to make a customary visit to the Undercity to promote public relations, and were able to sail right down into the lower suburbs, settling in the richer district and using their dwindling resources to hire protection.
He was withdrawn and sullen, and Luan didn’t have much time to talk to him about it, as she needed to begin reconnaissance missions back into Azarus to gauge the danger of the palace. So far, their task force hadn’t been canceled, and no one had attempted the jump on them, but Perran wasn’t discounting that something might happen anyway. Officer Haut from the team manned the main quarters, since Luan and Perran spent most of the time either staying with Kerrick in the Undercity, or at Perran’s house in Azarus, using Luan’s abilities to get in close to the palace without being detected and trying to figure out just how compromised the palace was.
Kerrick continued to make public appearances, slowly rebuilding his popularity/infamy again, but Luan definitely noticed the prince kicking back drinks when he was settled in the Undercity manse at night.
She figured he was still reacting badly to the news about a Kingmatch, but quietly considered taking away his drinks all the same. And on another arranged public meeting, this time within the Undercity itself in a high-end bar, Kerrick at first flat out refused to go.
“I’m not your little puppet, to be paraded about on a whim,” Kerrick snapped, one leg folded over the other, cradling a bottle of whiskey in his lap. His usually elegant hair flopped in a mess, and his eyes, still clear, simmered with resentment.
“Like I’ve said, I don’t really care what you think. These are the orders. And I have to obey my orders, even if that means tailing a spoiled prince around another incredibly boring party,” Luan said, crossing her arms and matching the prince’s glare. She noted how the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the shirt untucked, draping over his black belt and pinstriped black and white pants. He’d already dressed for the party, but then seemed to think it didn’t matter.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it. You don’t care about anything. Just your job. Like you’re a machine or something.”
“Not a machine,” Luan said coolly. “Just someone very dedicated to her job.” She knew better than to rise to any needling. Nothing but the job mattered. If she couldn’t win on personality, on her talking uncomfortable truths that people hated to hear, on her abundant lack of kindness—then she at least held power in professionalism. And Perran believed her to be the best officer he’d ever worked with.
“You know, I was starting to like you,” Kerrick said, now taking a languid sip of his bottle, before pointing it her way. “You might be a bit of a hailstone, but you did seem like you had a heart buried underneath that impeccably tailored exterior.”
Impeccably tailored? Luan pretty much just slung on her officer’s uniform and let the laundry services handle her clothing. Nothing impeccable about that. “I’m not particularly known for having a heart. Unless you haven’t heard all the rumors about me.”
Kerrick smiled thinly, the mirth not transferring to his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t be any worse than mine.” He tapped the chair next to him. The room he stayed in was small, with four scattered armchairs, a few wooden desks, and some bookshelves. A study room mostly inclined towards those focusing on academics. Although the manse was big and opulent for the Undercity, it was nothing compared to the sheer grandeur of the floating cities above. It had a decidedly utilitarian feel, with everything there for an exact purpose other than being pleasing to the eye. “Come. Sit with me.”
Luan, who had been fully intending on finding an excuse to break away, talk with Perran, and get some food, hesitated, heart now picking up pace in that annoying way it sometimes did if she allowed her attention to focus on Kerrick for too long. Even something about the way he sprawled out on the armchair, decadent and unraveled in his appearance, did something to her. And she most certainly did not like having these additional surges of emotion in her body. At all.
But something in his expression made her scrap her carefully laid plans, and with a sigh of resignation, she stalked over to the armchair and perched in it, ready to escape. “Okay. Sitting with you.”
“Great.” He offered her his drink, which she declined. “Now, I know how you like the hard-hitting questions, so I’m just going to fire them at you. Why have you been avoiding me for the past few weeks?”
“Busy,” Luan replied promptly, hands gripping the edges of her armchair. “What with the investigations into the palace going on and making sure your security’s airtight when you go to another one of those endless, boring gatherings where rich people talk about that brand-new exotic statue they bought for thousands of circs, or how drunk they got on century-old wine.”
“Not all our conversations are like that,” Kerrick replied with a wry smile, one eyebrow raised. “And it’s not entirely my fault you keep declining to engage in conversation with me when I offer.”
“I need to keep my wits about me,” Luan said, and instantly, she realized she’d made a mistake in her wording, because Kerrick’s eyes lit up.
“You need to keep your wits about you, do you? Well, I suppose talking to a prince can be very distracting,” Kerrick said, entirely too innocently.
“Yes, especially if that prince insists on trying to get his bodyguard drunk,” Luan said sweetly.
Truthfully, since the memory of their dancing together, Luan had become distinctly aware that her professionalism might be at risk if she allowed that kind of close contact to be regular.
She knew the prince was interested in her. For some inexplicable, messed-up reason. A person who everyone else might struggle to bat an eyelid for if she ever turned up dead at some point, which, given her line of work, was always a possibility. And Luan, who was not used to that kind of attention, knew from an entirely professional point of view that someone like her risked attaching too hard.
She saw it all the time in her criminals and victims. The moment someone offered a scrap of affection in an otherwise emotional void, those people clung like imprinted baby ducklings. It was how abusers controlled their victims in the many cases Perran investigated. It was how obsessive spouses and flings might end up stalking the
ir lover at night without permission.
Luan didn’t entirely trust herself not to get enamored by affection, and she knew with a high-profile public figure like Kerrick, she might as well sign her own death warrant. He might think it friendly flirting, he might see nothing wrong with his attitude, but Luan knew better.
“I just want you to loosen up a little. You’re always so tightly wound.”
“So would you be, if you had to search for assassins in the shadows. Or are you suggesting that I don’t do my job properly?”
“Ah, storm it with your job. Maybe I’d prefer to get to know you.” His eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion, and his mouth twisted into a thin line. “You’re about the only person these days who seems genuine.” He swigged his drink with more vigor than before, wiping his mouth afterward. “I always hated the court life, and the fakery of it. Then there’s you, all abrasive and thrilling, confident in yourself, not afraid...”
Luan’s grip tightened, nails digging into the leather of her armchair. She was torn about three different ways now, from wanting to leave the room with an excuse, saying something cruel and hurtful, and throwing all the truth she knew at him. Along with the fact that her eyes were busy taking him in, from the smooth curve of his jaw and light stubble, to the intense darkness in his eyes, framed by messy hair. Flesh peeked from underneath his white shirt, and more of that horrible wriggling sensation grappled her insides.
Shit.
This was bad. This was trouble, and not the kind of trouble Luan was used to. “I can’t...” Let this interfere with my job. She clamped her jaw on the words in the last second, instead coming out with, “There’s some things I’m not so great at, Kerrick.”
He leaned forward, all sinuous interest, and slight panic went through Luan as she watched the movement, and her breath halted for a moment. “Like what? Tell me. Talk to me.”
“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them.
He stared at her for a long moment, and she fidgeted nervously, hating her lack of control, but also curious beyond measure to hear what he had to say. “You mean with the fact that I find you attractive?”
“Yes!” she burst out, finally remembering how to breathe. “I don’t get it. You have plenty of options, plenty of more… emotionally available people. None of them with a habit of torturing and killing people. And you see I keep pushing you away, but you’re still interested. And I really, really don’t get it.”
The prince chuckled, bobbing his head as he listened, but held up a hand when Luan swelled in annoyance and humiliation. “Who wouldn’t be curious about someone like you? You’re nothing like I’ve ever encountered before. You’re like this little tight ball of intensity. You’re dangerous...”
Dangerous. Luan felt slightly sick. Is that it? He just thinks I’m dangerous? A cheap thrill? Then she got annoyed at herself for reacting like that. Not that she could complain. She got cheap thrills from her line of work as well. She mulled over the words for longer, before mentally agreeing with him.
This made more sense, though. Yes. Much more sense. He wasn’t attracted to her, just the allure of someone different, and outside his normal sphere of influence. “I suppose I can get why that’s interesting to you. Can relate to it, even.”
“There doesn’t have to be a relationship between us,” Kerrick said, his eyes darkening further, his breaths becoming deeper. He leaned closer to her, as if he wanted to cross the distance between them. “There doesn’t have to be any commitment. Any interference with your job. I’d just like to get to know you a little more.”
She shuffled away from him, though her body screamed at her to close the distance, take him up on his invitation. “I get that you’re probably working up some frustration over there, but you must be mistaken if you think I’m the kind of person who throws herself at anyone who shows interest.”
Even though that was true. Very, horribly true, because Kerrick was showing her interest, and she certainly was contemplating it. Contemplating doing something different from everything she’d ever done as well.
He’s a prince, your mark, under your protection. You don’t sleep with the job. Keep it professional. The word became a mantra in Luan’s mind, but she stiffened when Kerrick got up at last and covered the distance between them, hands gripping her arm rests, body leaning forward.
“Funnily enough, neither am I,” he said, his voice gravelly, his eyes lazy with confidence, along with a half-smile. She was slammed with his scent, musky and with a hint of aftershave. “But I just want you to know, I’m interested. If you’re not, however, I’ll back away. Right now, though, I think you are interested. At least, I hope so.” His smile turned into a grin, and Luan felt oddly in that moment that Kerrick had just handed his heart to her.
For all his talk about keeping it casual, just being interested because she was different, there was an undercurrent there. Something Luan sensed, but didn’t quite comprehend.
And as much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t lie. Even if the truth made her mouth unbearably dry, and the less familiar sensation of tightness clutch around her lungs. “I am interested, prince. I’m just not so sure it’s a good idea.”
“Fair,” he said, grin widening. “I get that. I don’t think I’m a good choice, either, if that makes you feel any better.”
“You don’t?” Now it was Luan’s turn to be surprised. Even with Kerrick hovering over her in a rather compromising position, she found the opportunity to wrench herself away from the sheer presence of him, the subtle pull of his voice, to say, “You’d be the first page boy of someone’s choice. I’m sure people like… princes, or imagining… princes doing things.” Which she certainly wasn’t imagining right now.
“People want a bite of the throne through me,” Kerrick said, his words turning into a growl, expression shifting into something else which Luan didn’t recognize. She wasn’t exactly the best at reading people. To her, Perran had the same face when he was angry, thinking, and sad. “So I find it easier just to engage on a casual basis and make it very clear that this is my intention. I rarely sleep with the same person twice, because I don’t want them forming an attachment, or thinking they have a chance. Because even if they say they’re fine with being casual, I don’t entirely trust them. Ulterior motives and all.”
Oh. “You realize that if this is your attitude, if anything happens between us, that’s going to make cooperation significantly more difficult.” She raised one eyebrow at him. “Also, you’re contradicting yourself. You say you want casual, but you don’t want to sleep with the same person twice. So, what you mean is that you want one-night stands, then to never see the person again.”
Kerrick frowned. His eyes, which had seemed rather lost in exploring her, regained some focus. “Wait. No. I mean… there are a lot of people I wouldn’t want to see more than once. But there are some… I’d be more than happy to continue with on a casual basis.”
“Like me?” She threw it out there, trying on a confident smile, and feeling like she was completely messing it up.
“Yeah,” he said, a rather wicked smile covering his lips. “I could definitely see myself interacting with you more than once.”
She let out a rather breathy, nervous chuckle in response. As Kerrick began to move closer, potentially to kiss her, she sprang up a palm to hold him away. Her voice came out much higher pitched than usual. “Okay, hold on there, dragon boy. We still have a party to go to.”
Confusion covered Kerrick’s face, but he nodded and took himself away from the danger zone. Luan released a silent exhale of relief, and the knot in her stomach untangled.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was getting ahead of myself. Was I—was I being too forceful? Did you not want…?”
“Later, Kerrick.” She got off the armchair, her legs feeling rather weak, though she managed a straight, nonchalant stride. Surely, he had to be able to hear her galloping heartbeat from over there, but he made no sign he could. Then, taking pity o
n the knitted confusion still lining his features, she said, “You weren’t too forceful. Don’t worry. We can talk more on this another time.”
He gave a rather hopeful smile at that, and she left the room, chaotic emotions churning inside. She didn’t want to quite admit to Kerrick that the main reason she’d suddenly panicked and pushed him away was because she had no experience.
She simply had no clue how to be intimate, or how to process the complex emotions whirring. On top of the fact that she wanted to stay professional, that she knew it was a bad idea, and that a part of her still couldn’t understand why he’d be interested in her, even when he’d explained that he liked the danger around her.
Not to mention her own fear she might cling too strongly. Like the people she’d been forced to save or kill. Aware that people craved a connection. Even, apparently, people like her.
I feel like I’m about to explode, she thought irritably. Storms, it was awful, being human sometimes. Being little bags of emotion trapped in skin. Pretending to be rational and calm when all it took was one flip of the chemicals inside, and entire personalities changed.
She knew the sensible thing, right now, would be to suggest to Perran that he find another person to guard Kerrick. That she suspected her own emotions were compromised.
For once, though, she didn’t want to do the sensible thing at all.
* * *
The party, as usual, bored the brains out of Luan. She just didn’t get how all these people enjoyed flocking together, exchanging nonsense words, regaling each other with stories when most of them didn’t really care about the stories at all. They were here simply to make connections, to find lovers, to look successful. They were all about appearances, and Luan hated it with her very soul.
Probably why she could count all her friends on one hand, if she was being honest with herself. Kerrick, as usual, was entertaining a flock of women and some well-dressed men, resembling the perfect caricature of a popular prince, trying to redeem himself from wilder ways, all sunbeam smiles and light laughter, as if he loved every single insipid word that came from his audience’s lips.