Brute (34 page)

Aric moved as carefully as possible, seeking a relatively dry and clean spot to lie down. He didn’t want his clumsy, oversized body to knock against one of the rotted support pillars that were barely keeping the structure upright. He found a place in one corner where part of the upper floor had completely collapsed, forming a sort of cave of rubble. Spider webs clung to his face, and he just barely fit inside. It wasn’t until he’d crawled in with the cloak hunched around him that he caught a pungent animal smell and realized that other creatures might have sought shelter here as well. Luckily, nothing came growling out of the night to contest its den.

He wrapped the cloak around himself as tightly as possible and lay down. Although he’d grown used to sleeping on floors, he wasn’t remotely comfortable. Maybe it was because this was the first time in many months that he was sleeping with empty arms.

The rain stopped, and exhaustion caught up with him. He drifted into a restless sleep, hearing the wind whenever he came near wakefulness, but too tired to care.

S
UNLIGHT
, pouring through the building’s holes, awakened him. He crawled out of his makeshift den, stretched unhappily, and scratched at his stubbled cheeks. His muscles—sore from Gray’s pummeling as well as the hard floor—protested every movement, and as usual, his stomach was quick to remind him that it was empty.

But the morning was warm and breezy, and birds were singing. He wondered what Gray was doing just then. Had one of the priests helped him find his way to the latrine and given him breakfast? Was he still raging over his abandonment, or had he realized already that Aric’s departure was the best choice? Even now, was he considering flirting with Kashta, who Aric was pretty certain would not be averse to the idea?

Aric glowered, first at the idea of Gray finding another lover, and then at himself for being so petty. He wanted Gray to be happy, and he wanted someone to look after him. Whatever claims Aric had tentatively had on Gray Leynham were now null and void.

“Stop it!” he said out loud, as fiercely as he could. He should have known better these past months—a brute like him had no happy endings ahead of him, no life filled with love. He never should have even dreamed of it.

Brute left the building and stood in the clearing. The sky was cloudless, and the sun was high. The gentle wind moved the hem of his cloak and made a soft sound through the trees. He’d slept much later than he’d intended, but he took time to wander around to the back of the building. Weeds and saplings had taken over a courtyard, and a stable was completely in ruins, but there was a cistern with a tin cup attached to a rusty chain. He filled the cup and drank it down three times, hoping to placate his hunger a little bit. Then he emptied his bladder against a tree, drank some more water, and returned to the front of the building.

He decided he wouldn’t walk to Racinas that day. Despite his late awakening, he was weary. He found himself an almost dry spot on the inn’s sagging porch, then sat up against the wall and tried not to think at all. It was a surprisingly difficult task for a stupid man like him, and in the end, he sang to himself instead. Not his mother’s lullabies, but the bawdy songs he’d heard at the White Dragon, the boastful chants the palace guards liked to bellow, the sprightly tunes that the sailors on the
Ouragan
had sung. His voice boomed across the clearing, as hoarse and off-key as always.

So it was that he didn’t hear the men until they were nearly upon him. In fact, he barely had time to scramble to his feet when an arrow came flying at him and shot into his left shoulder. He shouted with pain and surprise and yanked the arrow out. Another came at him, missing him by inches and thudding into the wooden wall.

“Stop!” bellowed a voice. “Dammit, stop shooting him!”

Brute growled at the approaching soldiers but didn’t move. The soldiers wore light armor with ornaments in scarlet and cream. There were eight of them, six still on their horses and two already dismounted. One of those was the archer, who held his bow at the ready but didn’t let loose another arrow. Brute didn’t recognize the soldiers. They looked more hardened than the guards he’d known at the palace, and they stared at him with disgust.

But Brute did recognize two of the mounted men. One of them was very small, his clothing meticulously neat despite his travels. And the other was tall, with yellow hair and a matching beard.

“Your Highness,” Brute said through teeth gritted against the pain. “Lord Maudit.”

It was Prince Aldfrid who spoke, and his voice was softer than Brute expected. “Where is he? What have you done with the prisoner?”

Brute shook his head. “He’s safe. But I’m here. Take me. Punish me in his place.”

Lord Maudit started to say something, but the prince held up a hand to silence him. “It doesn’t work like that, Brute. You can’t pay for what he did.” He enunciated every word very slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a small child.

“He’s paid enough. He’s suffered for years, and nothing you do to him will change the past. His misery won’t bring back your mother.”

Prince Aldfrid flinched and had to look away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were full of sorrow. “This wasn’t…. I shouldn’t have involved you in this. You’re a good man, aren’t you?”

“I’m a monster. You can see for yourself. Take me back to Tellomer and do what you want with me. I’m sure the crowds will be pleased to see a monster beaten and bloodied. Everyone will think how brave you are, how strong, and nobody will care that a man they’ve largely forgotten has escaped his chains.”

The prince hopped gracefully off his horse and walked toward Brute. “I wish… I wish I could just let him go. I do. I loved him once.” He glanced back at Lord Maudit, who was glaring furiously at him. “If it were my choice, he’d have been free long ago. But my father—”

“Did you even try to stand up to your father? You say you loved Gray, but you’ve gone on with your merry life knowing that he was in torment just a few minutes’ walk from your rooms.” Brute couldn’t believe he was speaking to a prince like this, but his shoulder burned and he was tired and angry, and he had nothing left to lose. “If someone I loved was suffering like that, I’d spend every minute of every day doing whatever I could to free him.”

“I did,” the prince said in a whisper.

“No.
I
did.”

Prince Aldfrid’s face crumpled, and for a moment, Brute was certain the man was going to cry. But then his chin firmed. “I am the king’s son. I have more obligation than anyone to obey the law. Tell me where he is, Brute. You saved my life once, and I know you meant well with Gray. I’ll beg my father to be lenient with you.”

“I don’t fucking care what you do to me!” Brute roared. The soldiers touched the hilts of their swords nervously, and the archer raised his bow. Brute ignored them all. “I won’t let you put him back in that cell!”

The prince stood there staring wordlessly, and for a brief second, Brute entertained the wild hope that he’d order his men to turn around and sail back to Tellomer. But then Lord Maudit hopped down from his horse with an oath. “This has gone on long enough,” he spat. “I’ll go look for Gray Leynham myself.”

The soldiers continued to look uneasy, but nobody stopped the lord as he stomped past the prince and then onto the porch and, without even glancing at Brute, entered the inn. But he came out again in a minute, his face sharp with anger. “Can’t see a damned thing in there. Get me a candle!”

It was unclear for whom his order was intended, and the soldiers exchanged looks. Then one of them fumbled in his horse’s saddlebag and produced a taper, while another found a flint and tinder. Mindful of the breeze, they didn’t try to light the taper immediately. Instead, giving Brute a very wide berth, the men joined Lord Maudit on the porch and, after a few tries, lit the wick.

As soon as Lord Maudit snatched the candle, the men scampered away, and no one followed him back into the building. The soldiers stood with their weapons at hand, Prince Aldfrid stared at Brute with a carefully expressionless face, and Brute tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder. Blood was soaking through his fine cloak, and he felt irrationally sad about that.

“I’m sorry,” the prince finally said. “About the arrow. I think my men were scared of you.”

“Of course they were. I’m a monster.”

Prince Aldfrid shook his head. “I’ve known that wasn’t true from the moment you climbed down that cliff to save me.”

And Brute was struck with a sudden certainty, one that would have occurred to him much earlier if he wasn’t so stupid. “You sent the key,” he whispered.

After a long pause, the prince gave an almost imperceptible nod. In a voice that wouldn’t carry to the soldiers behind him he said, “At first, I only knew that you were a good man. And brave. A man who had nothing much to lose, and who could probably be persuaded to come to the palace, and one who… who’d treat a prisoner well. I think… I think not all of the others have.”

Brute remembered the bruises that had marred Gray’s emaciated body when Brute had first arrived. “They haven’t,” he said.

Prince Aldfrid squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were the one in pain. When he opened them, he nodded again. “And I hoped you would stay with him for a while. It was all I could do for him.”

Anger flared in Brute’s chest. “You could have stood up to your father for him!”

“I did!” More quietly, the prince repeated, “I did. I yelled and argued and begged and…. My father’s not a cruel man, but he’s hard. Someone like me, one prince of many, I can afford to be soft. But a king can’t. And my mother’s death very nearly ruined him. My father wouldn’t budge at all, and sending you was the most I could do.”

Brute snorted. “Wasn’t much, was it?”

“But it was. I heard what people said about you around the palace, the way they regarded you so well, and I knew you’d be treating Gray as well as anyone could. Not long after you arrived, I told the exchequer to send word to me if you withdrew all your money. I thought that would mean you intended to abandon your post, and maybe I could get to you first and dissuade you. But you never did.”

“Until recently.”

“Until recently,” Prince Aldfrid confirmed. “I’d forgotten all about my orders to the exchequer by then, actually, but when he sent me a message….” He paused to run his fingers through his hair. “I hoped you were planning maybe something more than simply quitting.”

Brute was feeling slightly light-headed, maybe from blood loss or maybe just from exhaustion. “If you helped me then, why are you here now? Why not just let us go?”

“Because the king sent Maud, not me. And I thought maybe if I came along for your capture….”

“Then what?”

The prince shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I hoped I could make things a little easier on both of you. Make sure you weren’t hurt.”

Brute looked down at his bloodstained cloak. “That went well, didn’t it?”

“Dammit! You know, nothing much is ever expected of me, and that’s what I give. I don’t make decisions and plans, I don’t think much about the consequences of my actions, and I’m a damned coward. I’m not brave like you.”

Somewhat taken aback to hear an admission like that from a prince, Brute was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “When you gave me the key, did you really expect we’d get away?”

“No. But… it was the ghost of a chance, I guess. And he’s had at least a taste of freedom these past days, hasn’t he? Isn’t that something?” When Brute didn’t answer, the prince cocked his head a little. “Why did you do it, Brute? Why risk so much for him?”

“I love him.”

To Brute’s surprise, Prince Aldfrid wasn’t angry. In fact, he gave a sad little smile. “Good. I mean, despite everything, I’m glad he’s had that at least. Gods, he was… he was special.”

“He still is,” Brute responded evenly.

They remained silent a while longer. Brute wished he could sit down for a bit. He was pretty sure the bleeding had stopped, or at least slowed down, but his entire left arm was wracked with pain, all the way from the fresh wound down to the nonexistent hand.

One of the horses snorted impatiently, startling both Brute and Aldfrid out of their thoughts. “Where is he?” Aldfrid asked gently.

“Sanctuary.”

The prince frowned and opened his mouth, no doubt intending to demand clarification, but a tremendous crash came from the inn. Brute whirled around in time to see the inn’s frame wobble a little, and then there was a second bang, louder than the first. “What the hell?” Aldfrid exclaimed, and as he began to move toward the building, a muffled and incoherent cry sounded from inside. “Maud!” There was a strange intensity in the way Aldfrid called the name.

At that moment, Brute realized several things. First, that something within the fragile structure had collapsed, most likely trapping or injuring Lord Maudit. Second, that the prince and the lord were lovers—another fact that should have been obvious long ago. And third, that the best course for everyone was for Brute to risk his life again.

As the prince ran toward the door, Brute put out his good arm and grabbed him. The soldiers, who were already very ill at ease, surged forward. “Let me,” Brute said urgently. “You stay out here.”

Prince Aldfrid looked up at him, wild-eyed. And then he gave a short nod and stepped back. “Stand down!” he roared at his men, then turned back to Brute and gave him a pleading look. “Brute….”

“I know. Just stay back.”

The prince nodded again, but his head whipped up when he caught a whiff of the odor Brute had scented just a few seconds earlier. “Smoke! Oh gods, the candle!”

Brute didn’t wait for more conversation. He ran into the structure, ducking to avoid a ceiling beam that sagged just inside the doorway. The entire interior had shifted, chunks of ceiling fallen to the floor and one of the interior walls toppled completely. Footing was treacherous, but he hurried as quickly as he could, the acrid smell of burning wood already filling the air. Smoke made both breathing and visibility difficult. Like the idiot he was, Brute made straight for the source of the smoke.