The ringing sound of clashing swords quietened. Most rebels had fallen, a few on their knees, surrendering, including the Prince’s own opponent.
Townsend approached, his grin so wide, it split his face in half. “Your Highness, it’s done.”
“That was good work,” the Prince said, smiling at Townsend and Rockwell as he spoke. Jeffrey saw both men preening at the praise and suppressed a chuckle. “As for you,” he said and turned to the rebel at his feet. “We have some questions.”
The man spat, hitting the Prince’s shoes.
“That was so uncalled for,” the Prince said with a shake of his head. Shifting the grip of his sword, he struck hard. The man fell backwards, a deep scratch covering his cheek, reddening even as Jeffrey watched.
“You’ll be dead soon,” the man hissed. He was careful not to move, Rockwell’s sword at his throat.
“Is that so? Well, I can tell you that you’ll die first. It’s been some time since I got to gut a pig, I shall enjoy the experience. Unless you tell me what I want to hear.”
The man made to spit again but before he could, the Prince’s boot connected with his head.
“Where is your base camp?”
“Ha, fuck off.”
“Let’s try that again.” The Prince placed a boot on the man’s ankle, applying only a little of his weight. The man’s face contorted, eyelids squeezed shut, jaw clenching. More weight, a groan. “Tell me.”
“In the mountains. You’ll never find it.”
“Is that where the rest of your group hides?”
“You’ll never find them,” hissed between gasps.
“I think we will.” The Prince applied his whole weight and with a sickening crunch bones gave out. The man screamed.
Jeffrey stood staring, so did Rockwell.
Ignacio stepped up behind the Prince. “Your Highness.”
The Prince turned to look at him. “Go for a walk, close your eyes, I don’t care. Don’t stop me.”
“Please. This isn’t you.” More quietly, “think about the men watching.”
“Townsend.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“The cars and vans can be useful to our men, they should be brought back to the fort. The dead need burying, the injured tending. See to it. Rockwell.” Townsend saluted and left while Rockwell looked up.
“You understand that we need the intelligence these men can provide.”
“Yes, Your Highness. We can bring them some distance into the forest. My men will have ropes.”
The Prince nodded and turned to walk away, Ignacio on his heels.
Jeffrey didn’t need to wait for orders. He hurried to the closest horse and checked the saddle. Finding a length of rope, he tossed it to Rockwell, who caught it with a smile. While Rockwell proceeded to tie his captive, Jeffrey went in search of more ropes. They had several prisoners after all.
While Townsend kept the soldiers busy, Jeffrey and Rockwell manhandled several of their prisoners into the forest, tying them against tree trunks.
The Prince turned on the man he’d questioned before. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”
The man was covered in sweat, dripping down the side of his face, matting his hair. Blood from the gash in his shoulder soaked into his clothes.
Jeffrey stood in front of the first man he had knocked out. Awake again, his eyes were opened wide, upper lip glistening and damp. “Help your friend and tell us what we want to know.”
“I-I don’t k-know anything,” he stuttered.
“So, you’re telling me there’s no use keeping you alive?”
“No! Wait.” Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “I have children.”
Jeffrey sneered. “Like that isn’t the first thing anyone would say. I don’t care. Tell me why I should keep you alive.” Another scream from the rebel in the Prince’s care. “You might want to hurry. I wouldn’t be confident your friend will make it much longer.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where are the rest of your men?”
“Further up the pass.”
“Where exactly?”
“Another ten miles maybe. There’s a gorge. Turn left at the entrance to it. There’s no path but the cars fit. You’ll come up to a cave entrance.”
“How many men?”
“Eighty.”
“You’re lying.” Jeffrey drew his dagger, pressing it against the man’s right shoulder. “There’s no gorge and you don’t have another eighty men.” He pressed downwards, the leather jerkin flayed under Jeffrey’s sharp blade’s tip, slicing down to the skin. Jeffrey stopped, but the man screamed, the sound mixing with that of his friend’s scream. This was no soldier; his eyes were clouded with fear. “Now the truth.”
The man panted. “It’s the truth, I swear it.”
“Have you been in the caves?”
“No.”
“So how do you know?”
“Carlos told me.”
“Who is Carlos?” Jeffrey kept his dagger pressed firmly against the man’s shoulder.
“Our leader,” the rebel said and nodded at the man tied to a nearby tree.
“What makes you trust him?”
“He gave me gold to pay for my wife’s medicine.”
“You should have joined the legion instead,” Jeffrey said with a shake of his head and withdrew his dagger. He turned to the Prince, who had a thumb pressed against bloody skin and sinking into torn flesh.
“Your Highness.”
“What?” the Prince snapped, eyes never leaving the rebel.
“One of the men talked, we should send scouts.”
“Tell Rockwell.”
Jeffrey turned around, Rockwell stood in front of another prisoner, asking his own questions, too busy to notice much else. Turning back to the Prince, Jeffrey reached for his wrists. “It’s enough now,” he said gently.
“Don’t tell me...” the Prince said, turned his head and stared at Jeffrey. He blinked and faltered.
Jeffrey nodded at him, smiling reassuringly. Pulling on the Prince’s wrist, he made him let go of the rebel. The Prince took a step back. Jeffrey shifted, standing between the Prince and his prey.
“There’s more of them in the caves.”
“I know,” Jeffrey said with a nod.
“We need to go after them.”
“The legion will do that. We need to get you back to the palace.”
The Prince sighed and ran a hand over his face.
Jeffrey reached for him, laying a hand on his shoulder. They were both covered in blood, though not their own. The Prince kept smearing his face with it the more he rubbed at his eyes. Something made Jeffrey step closer, his hand moving from the Prince’s shoulder to the back of his neck, rubbing a thumb over tense skin. “Today was a success.”
The Prince exhaled. “My father will kill me for it,” he whispered.
“He can’t, you’re his only heir.”
“He doesn’t do it physically, he does it with words, Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey frowned and was about to speak when the Prince stepped back from him.
“You’re right, we should leave.”
The tree trunk and branches blocking the road had been removed, clearing their path. The rebel cars were gone, as were many of the men and their horses. Patches of blood on the road remained as the only sign of what had happened. The Prince was talking to a few of the soldiers, Ignacio at his side.
Jeffrey passed the information he’d learned onto Rockwell, who confirmed receiving similar information from the prisoner he’d questioned. The captain promised to send scouts right away and left to talk to his men. Jeffrey stood beside the car, waiting for the Prince to finish.
Watching the Prince gave Jeffrey time to think. The Prince had proven a capable fighter with staves while they were at the villa, now he had proven himself capable against real enemies that intended to kill. He had no qualms about killing, nor about causing pain to obtain information. But he feared his own father
’s response to the events that had taken place. It made little sense.
He also cared about the men, taking time to talk to soldiers as well as officers. They’d seen him fight beside them. More than that, he’d risked himself to lay a trap for the rebels. The fort would be full of tales with it. Was this how he had earned the reputation for his actions during the Long War?
The mood among the soldiers was raucous, the men speaking of the Prince’s actions with reverence and amazement. None of them seemed able to believe how many rebels had been taken care of in a single afternoon. Jeffrey spoke to some of them, joining in their celebrations.
At length, after declining several invitations to return to the fort for a real celebration, the Prince got back to his car and with Ignacio taking the wheel again, they left the celebrating soldiers behind.
***
As soon as they were back at the palace, Ignacio excused himself. After spending most of the day driving, the Prince dismissed him on request, allowing him to rest. With Jeffrey in tow, the Prince left to see the marshal. Together the two men entered the training courtyard they always used. Jeffrey remained outside as he always did.
After a time, the door opened and the Prince bid Jeffrey enter. “Would you spar with me? I’d love the distraction. I promise it won’t be like last time.”
“Here? Now?” Jeffrey asked, letting his gaze sweep the room, coming to rest on the marshal.
“Your Highness, I must object,” the marshal said, his voice full of concern.
“It’s okay, marshal. He’s already fought me, twice. And you’ll see why I need it to be him.”
“Only if you swear you won’t kill me and I won’t be in trouble,” Jeffrey sighed.
“I swear to both,” the Prince replied with a smile. Then he went to put on armour and drew his sword.
“You’re not suggesting we fight with real swords, are you?” Jeffrey said when he saw the Prince skilfully swinging his blade.
“Of course, what else?”
“I think the staves have proven quite dangerous enough, Your Highness.”
The Prince raised an eyebrow but relented, inclining his head in agreement. The room held all types of weapons, so they had free choice. Jeffrey took off his sword belt and instead picked up a stave. He already wore his armour, so he went to the centre of the room, facing the Prince.
Expecting an ambush Jeffrey approached cautiously. When the Prince struck out first, he was prepared and defended easily. Like the first time they fought, they fell into an easy rhythm of striking and defending, neither gaining an advantage over the other. Neither thought of anything other than responding to their opponent.
“Stop, both of you,” The marshal called after watching them for a long time. Jeffrey heard it but didn’t react, too engaged in the fight. The marshal repeated himself, louder and more insistent. This time Jeffrey moved away from the Prince, who followed his example. Their breathing was heavy and fast, their chests heaving, weapons still raised and ready to strike. “Drop your weapons now.” Both men obeyed. “Jeffrey, I was not aware you could fight with staves, never mind this well.”
“We only trained with swords here, Sir. There was no need to tell anyone.”
“You’ve fought each other before you said?” Both nodded. “You’re surprisingly evenly matched. There’s much work that can be done however and it would be much easier to train both of you together rather than just one of you. Jeffrey, if you would agree, I think it could be good for both of you to practice with each other more often. We can arrange your shifts and practise, so you don’t need to be on guard afterwards. What do you say?”
Jeffrey stayed quiet for a time, looking at the marshal, then the Prince, then back. Memory fragments from the past week replayed in his mind, conversations he’d had with the Prince and with Ignacio. “Sir, I’m honoured, truly. Yet, I do not believe it would be a good idea and so I would prefer not to. I’m at his Highness’s command, however.”
The marshal looked at the Prince in surprise, the Prince did not meet his eye, staring into space instead. The tension in the room was palpable. “Of course, it’s only a suggestion. Neither of you need to take me up on it. We can discuss this again another day. For today, I think you should both get some rest. It’s been an eventful day.”
“Thank you, Jeffrey. For everything you’ve done today,” the Prince said, his voice genuinely grateful.
“Your Highness, I’m only doing my job. And my shift is not yet over. I’ll remain as long as you need if you wish I’ll wait outside.”
The Prince nodded, and so Jeffrey picked up his sword belt again, tied it back in place and left, taking up post outside. The Prince and marshal stayed inside the room for some time, giving Jeffrey a moment to think and calm his racing heart. The fighting had exhausted him somewhat, but it wasn’t the only reason.
After their earlier adventure, he’d slipped back into a role he didn’t want to have. He was not the Prince’s advisor, nor his friend, he needed to re-focus himself. It was too easy to forget who the Prince was, the power he could wield, would wield one day. When he wasn’t pretending, he was a kind, considerate man, intelligent without being arrogant. There was much to like about him, not just physically. They seemed to have many similarities. That they were near equals when fighting for one. But how much did he truly know about the Prince?
He could not truly be the Prince’s equal and saw no future for them, for so many reasons. But it was clear the Prince cared for him, the looks he gave him, the way he treated him. If Jeffrey allowed himself to be honest, his own feelings were not superficial. They’d kissed, and it had been incredible. But he couldn’t allow himself to be honest, couldn’t allow those feelings to exist.
How were they going to work together professionally without crossing that line? If he spoke with the Prince, would he be likely to allow a reassignment? It would be the only way to stop them working together. But could he give up his post when he knew that the Prince found it so hard to find someone to do the job right? Could he give up his post, when he may be the only one to help protect the Prince from his own father?
He knew the answers and yet he didn’t want them to be true. After his fighting, he was too exhausted to be angry but not too tired to be frustrated. He cleared his mind and focused on his breathing. It had helped him before when preparing for battle. Maybe it would help him now to stop thinking, for a time at least.
Chapter 16
Over the next few days, Jeffrey accompanied the Prince as he made his way from one general to another and another. After a good night’s sleep in his own bed, he’d found it much easier to return to being Jeffrey the soldier. Now he no longer spoke up without being addressed, offered no opinions or suggestions and only when the Prince asked him questions directly did he give any comment at all, at least where politics were concerned. When it came to small talk, he engaged in it pleasantly and easily.
Several days after they returned from their trip, right after breakfast had been brought to the Prince, he called Jeffrey in to see him. Expecting the worst, Jeffrey went into the room, steeling himself.
“I’ve had coffee brought for you, thought you might like some?”
“That’s very kind but I’m alright,” Jeffrey said.
“Please, come and sit with me a while.” The Prince sat on a comfortable sofa, breakfast laid out on the table in front of him, including a steaming pot of coffee. When he indicated for Jeffrey to sit across from him, Jeffrey found no excuse for refusing. “Much has happened these last few weeks. I was hoping we might have a chat.” When Jeffrey sat down, the Prince poured him a cup of coffee and placed it in front of him.
“There really isn’t much to discuss, Your Highness.” Jeffrey took the offered cup and held it with both hands, taking comfort from the heat it radiated. Any comfort would do to prepare for what lay ahead.
“I disagree, and I would prefer if, at least for the next hour, you could stop calling me that.” Jeffrey nodded. “At the villa, I th
ought we were getting on well, we had some really good times, what went wrong?”
“I simply realised what it is you want and that I cannot give it to you. There is no more to it than that. But I told you this already.”
“You’ve always been honest with me. Why not now?”
“I am being honest.”
“Then why can you not give me what I want?”
Jeffrey sighed, staring into his coffee. He could never tell the Prince the real reasons, he wouldn’t understand, would only ask questions that Jeffrey didn’t want to be answering. “Because I’ve no desire to live like a noble, which means I will not be your equal. And I’ve no desire to be your pet toy, relevant only when you’re looking for amusement.”
“What do you want, Jeffrey?”
Absolution for his sins. Forgiveness. “To live my life in peace.”
“Funny thing to say for a soldier,” the Prince said with a smirk.
“You know well how I mean it.” Jeffrey said, getting angry.
“Of course, I do, I don’t mean offence.” The Prince raised his hands appeasingly. “Do you not have any wish to change anything about your life though? Are you truly content to be a soldier and be taking orders for the rest of your life?”
“Life is simpler this way, I’d be more content if...” He broke off, realising what he was about to say would be too hurtful and once said could not be taken back.
“Yes?”
“Can you not accept that I don’t want this complication in my life?”
“Honestly, no, I can’t. The words you say tell me one thing, but everything else tells me another thing. I’ve seen the way you look at me, it’s the same way I look at you. When we’ve touched, I’ve noticed you react the way I do. You obviously feel the same thing I do, but you won’t accept it.”
“Emotions can’t be trusted.” Jeffrey shrugged.
“That’s your soldiers’ training. We’re not talking about going into battle though.”
“Aren’t we? Then what else is it, if not a battle of wits and egos, needs, wants, desires.”
Ties of Destiny (Curse of the Crown Book 1) Page 24