Marina was so startled by the rapid demolition of the modest meal, she was unable to speak or take her eyes off him.
As he glugged the wine, it dribbled down his chin and spilt over his front. Picking up a square of muslin, she reached to wipe him, but his eyes pinged to her hand and he jumped off the bed. He was across the room and hiding in the shadows in two bounds. The jug clattered to the floor with a hollow clack. The knife was once again clutched expertly in Boy’s hands, an animalistic snarl curling his lips.
Marina had frozen with the cloth dangling in mid air. Instead of commenting on his reaction, she simply animated herself, holding out the napkin for him.
“Wipe your mouth.” She was impressed when her voice didn’t wobble.
Flushing, he snatched the cloth from her and retreated back to the corner. Marina shifted the tray off the bed onto the floor and wrinkled her nose. He smelt awful, and she was sure he had lice.
Now the calm of her meditation had worn off, and the adrenaline from being held at knifepoint was kicking in, she felt both drained and mentally exhausted. She had an important dinner to go, one that she couldn’t miss, but she knew if she was to take her eyes off Boy that he would disappear.
“Boy, how long until you’re missed?” Marina asked.
He was still holding the cloth, his fingers touching it reverently. “Little time. Do not fret, princess, no harm will come to you tonight. And never from me.” There was something in his voice that she didn’t like.
Watching him, she guessed his plan. “You’re not going back to them,” she said. “And you’re not killing anybody for me. I meant what I said before.”
“I cannot stay here.”
He was a stubborn thing. “If you don’t return they won’t assume you’re dead?”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “I never fail.”
She scowled. “You didn’t fail, Boy. Showing mercy to an innocent victim is not a bad thing. What you did tonight was brave, and shows that you are worthy of protection.”
He looked confused. “You’re a high princess. It’s whispered you have the love of the dragon king.”
Marina bit back a smile. “Really? People think I have Koen’s love?” She would have thought people would be whispering about her antics rather than any affection Koen might have towards her.
“They also say that you are a simpleton who was born disfigured.” He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “You are plain and small, but I see no boils or ugly marks. Were you born with ten fingers and toes?”
She gave him a droll look. “You’re lucky I’m still a bit afraid of you.”
The very outermost corner of his upper lip twitched. Not quite a smile, more like a nervous tick, but it was a start. His face would look gorgeous split in two with a grin. She bet he had dimples.
“Why would you help me?” he asked. “I am nothing. Lower than the lowest slave.”
Marina studied him. Under the grime, he was sweating. “You’re from the Ice Realm, aren’t you? Your accent reminds me of Daniil’s, and you’re not used to the heat.”
Marina straightened her legs to work some feeling into them, and winced when she got pins and needles in her calves and the arch of her foot. She’d been sitting still too long, she’d get cramps when she stood.
“So?”
“So … I heard something this morning that made me decide that I want to wear the Frost Wreath, not the Blood Crown like everyone thinks. The Ice Realm is going to be my kingdom, and if things with Koen don’t work out… .” Marina breathed out hard. Things would work out, and she needed to stop letting silly things – like clothes – break down her trust in him. She couldn’t let such ridiculous things shatter her determination. “I want to be a good queen, and to do that I need to take care of the people. Don’t you think?”
He stared at her. “The old queen did not care for slaves.”
“Yeah, well, she was a bitch, wasn’t she, and it’s a good thing Koen bit her head off. What kind of women would let children be treated this way? What kind of ruler would let people keep slaves?”
He looked confused by her outrage. “It is how it is. Some are born to privilege and freedom. Other’s squalor and chains.”
“That is so wrong coming from a child,” she said bleakly.
Marina knew she’d made a mistake when Boy’s chest puffed out, and he clenched his fists. Where had his bloody knife gotten to? “I am a man.”
She didn’t fight him on that one.
Well, a man he may be, but he needed a bath and a good scrubbing down. He could probably use more food too. He was young enough so that his presence in her room wouldn’t cause too much of an outcry of indecency … would it? Would it be safe to send him to the bathhouse alone? Thinking of the guards that patrolled the halls to ‘protect’ her, she re-thought that. There’d be questions as to who he was, and where he had come from since he didn’t enter through the front door. What did she say? What did she do with him? To be perfectly honest, she didn’t dare trust him to the care of the kingdom nor would it be sufficient to send him to Zar palace. Not only would Pyotr have a fit, Boy would probably disappear on her. Goodness knows what would happen to a child from the neighboring kingdom if he were caught traipsing about on Zar land without an escort. She had a suspicion Boy would be far to quick to use his knife, and land himself in deep trouble. What if his previous owner got hold of him again?
“Boy, who owned you?” He paled until he looked like a ghost. Eyes wide, he shook his head manically. “You can tell me,” Marina said softly.
“No,” he said, voice trembling. He had a look of a cornered animal. “I won’t tell. I can’t.”
There was a sound of trickling water on the wood. Her face crumpled when she saw he’d wet himself in fear.
“Oh fu–” Marina caught the curse mid flow. “Boy. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
Marina slowly slid off the bed and approached him slowly. She held her hands out and kept her expression gentle.
He was as tall as her. With a few weeks of good sleep and food he would look like the budding adolescent he should. His body was scary, covered in so many cuts and scars, but wiry with muscle and boyish strength that was endearing.
He looked so ashamed – her heart ached for him.
She reached him, and when he made no offense move, she put a hand on his arm.
He flinched and shied away from her. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Marina put both hands on his shoulders and tugged. He leaned into her arms without a struggle, arms limp by his sides and she held him.
She would have loved to have known where his knife had gone.
“When I was your age, my best friend Cathryn put my fingers in a bowl of warm water when I was sleeping. I woke up in a horrible wet patch and to this day I’ve never forgiven her.” The secret was whispered into his ear. “If you don’t tell anybody about that, I won’t tell a soul about this.”
“If I stay here I will be nothing but a slave. Here I will be pitied. If I go back to them at least I will have my honor.”
Marina resisted the urge to shake sense into him. These people had such strange notions of honor. She tried to use some of her own reasoning on him in terms he could understand.
“There is no honor there for you. Here you can have a life. Nobody needs to know that you were a slave.”
He was very still, until his arms wrapped carefully around her, hands linked at the small of her back, returning her embrace. “Then who am I?” he asked in a tiny voice.
“My son,” she said matter off fact. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a mother. My own was so fantastic, I dreamed of being like her.”
Boy tightened his hold on her. “No one would know?”
The reassurance was on her lips, but she refrained from saying yes just to sooth him. “Only a few people. Koen Raad for one.” She grimaced inwardly. That was not a conversation she would enjoy. “He’ll be your father.”
“The dragon king,” said Boy in a hushed voice. The tension returned to his frame. “He’ll kill me when he finds out what I–”
Marina tightened her hold this time. “No,” she said firmly. “As my son, no one will harm you or judge you. If they do they’ll have to face me, and I can be pretty menacing when I want to be.”
“You’re tiny.”
She pulled back and gaped at him. Mockery? “I’m as big as you.”
“I am not full grown. When I am, I will tower over you, and be much stronger.”
Marina made a face at him and let him go. He might not be Koen’s biological son, but he already had the seeds of his arrogance. Boy’s earlier shyness had eased, but he was still visibly skittish. She had to get him out of those clothes and washed.
Marina congratulated her herculean effort not to rip her own skin off shrieking when she spotted lice crawling across his forehead and disappearing into his hair.
“I need to call Pasha, my handmaid.”
Suspicion returned in the blink of an eye. “Why?”
“For her to prepare you a bath, a barber, clothes, food. I don’t feel comfortable letting you out of my sight just yet. You’re coming to dinner with me.”
He looked down at himself, as if expecting princely robes, and frowned when he saw rags. “I do not look like the son of a princess.”
Smiling, she reached to ruffle his hair then thought better of it, retracting her hand with an inward grimace. “You will soon enough.” She paused. “If it’s too soon tell me and we won’t go.”
He looked at the closed screen then back at Marina. He looked out into the night, towards the Westlands, and stared in that direction for a long time. “We should not sleep here tonight.”
Marina nodded her agreement, and held out her hand. “I know you won’t believe me, but I hated this room anyway.”
There were two distinct whizzing sounds, and a dart embedded itself into one of the wooden panels by Marina’s outstretched hand. Another hit her, and fell to the floor in a tinny clink.
Pain flared at her ankle, and she dropped down to clasp a hand over it. It was just a prickle, a stabbing burn already easing. Dropping down was clearly the best thing she ever could have done because two more darts hit the screen, passing through the space her head and neck had been.
Hissing, Boy grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room.
In the hallway, his eyes pinged from side to side. Satisfied the hallway was empty, he spun to her, and his rough hands patted her down, looking for injuries.
“I’m fine,” Marina assured him, not wanting to panic him even more. The cut on her ankle already felt numb, nothing to worry him over. It barely grazed her. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “I thought they would have given me more time,” he whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” Marina assured him, patting his cheek. “We’re both safe and whole.”
“Can we still go to dinner?” Boy asked in a hopeful voice.
Marina grinned.
Chapter 21
Koen glowered down at the hook-nosed lord that had shuffled to his side, babbling some nonsense about a strange boy caught Marina’s room people were calling her cousin, her brother, her son.
The court gossips were buzzing with the tale, and Koen could not openly point out its ridiculousness because there might be a grain of truth to it. Marina had the largest heart he’d seen, and seemed to pick up strays and needy people as she went, gifting them with as much as affection as she could.
Koen’s dragon was one of those who she had picked up and helped out of the goodness of her heart.
The story itself was absurd – a young lordling about to become a man who looked like Daniil. Some now claimed that the two had an illicit affair that bred a child before anyone know of her existence, and that was why she had been hidden away from court.
Many had already come to offer him their condolences, and whisper of shame to the House of Zar for Marina’s wanton ways.
It was pathetic.
The only man Marina had been with was him, but it would do no good to bellow it a loud like Koen wanted. Admitting Marina and he had already shared such passion brought complications of its own.
The hook nosed man – Koen glanced at his crest – from House Tyr continued to spout his drivel when a ripple went through the hall.
Marina entered, her face bare as always, her clothes unfussy and plain, but well fitted to her form. Her back was straight, and she was brightly flushed. Despite her tiny stature compared to those in the room, her vibrant presence more than made up for her lack of height.
Tyr made a rude noise upon seeing her, and excused himself.
Marina paused mid stride, and mid sentence, realizing she spoke to no one, and turned. A stubborn expression passed across her face, and she retraced her steps out the hall. Moments later, she returned with a surly faced adolescent richly dressed in court finery.
Koen hid his shock well, for he knew there had to be some truth in the rumors. The boy could be no more than thirteen, and he did indeed have a wealth of blonde hair like Daniil. He even favored the man with his symmetrical face and refined features.
Marina kept a firm hold on the boy as she navigated through the crowd, looking for … him. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Koen, and she started to make her way over. She reached his side in record time, and tilted her head back to stare at him.
Desire hit him hard.
Her gaze softened, and her lips parted.
If only he could touch her, to reassure her his affection. He had heard of her public breakdown in the training yard earlier, and it had caused his dragon a great deal of pain.
Koen wanted to lean down and brush his lips to hers. To experience the thrill of having her in his arms, her small, but perfectly formed hands touching him. Her wet mouth… .
“Koen?” Her brows lifted questioningly, and her eyes held a hint of concern. He shook himself and asked her to repeat the question. “How are you?” she asked sweetly.
“Fine.” He turned to the boy who was staring at him with an odd mixture of awe, defiance, and bone deep terror, though he fought valiantly to hide the last. The longer Koen looked into the youth’s face, the more he became concerned. It was no innocent Marina held tightly to her side. The boy had known death, and had delivered it with is own hands … more than once. Koen could even feel magick brush his skin. Was the boy a mage of some kind?
“This is Boy,” Marina said as she ran a protective stroke across his back. “My son.”
Koen heard her, saw her lips move, but needed a moment to understand. When clarity was still lacking, he slowly lifted his gaze from her lush mouth to give her the full force of his consternation.
She shrank under his gaze then the spitfire he knew pushed forward. She drew her shoulders back, and went up onto her tiptoes to make herself seem bigger. “Boy is my son. I adopted him legally a few minutes ago. The Regent has sanctioned it, and Mikhail has already welcomed him to House Zar.”
“But … who is he?”
Her eyes wandered. “He found me. I know this is a bit of a shock, but really, when you think of it’s not that big of a change. Zar palace is huge, and Pasha is already sorting out a suite of rooms for him next to mine.” Her mouth kept moving, and her eyes went everywhere, but back to his face. “He’s very talented, I think there are a few skills even you would be impressed by. He can’t read or write, but the Regent as recommended a scholar for him, and even offered to help Boy in a few private history sessions. Isn’t that nice?” Unconsciously, she patted Boy’s arm soothingly. “It’s an adjustment, but things are going well so far.”
“None of that answers who he is?”
“That’s not important.”
“Considering the current circumstances it is,” Koen pushed.
“Nope, I don’t think it is.”
He gritted his teeth. “Marina….”
“I was sent to kill Marina as she rested,” Boy rasped
quietly. “My masters heard she was troubled this afternoon, and thought she would be too preoccupied to be on guard. They were right.”
Koen stiffened.
He and boy locked gazes. Koen had been right – the lad was deadly. Yet there was a vulnerably lurking deep in his eyes that Koen found compelling. His accent marked him as from the Ice Realm and the uncultivated thickness of his diction named him a slave. His brand was not visible to the naked eye, but it would be seared into his flesh somewhere. Koen would be able to discover who he belonged to easily enough once he’d seen it though he already had a good idea.
Marina had a fretful look on her face that dissolving into one of defiance as he stared at her. She had adopted her assassin. The woman was truly addled and looking to get herself killed.
“His name is Boy?” Koen asked.
She looked devastated. Koen wanted to smooth her furrowed brow and kiss her until she blushed and smiled.
“That is what they called him,” she said sadly. “I wondered if I should have changed it when doing the adoption, but for some reason, I couldn’t.” She paused and shook her head. “That’s a lie. I know the reason. He is perfect as he is.”
Boy twitched at the words, but made no other gesture or movement. His eyes gave him away. Deep love shone for Marina and was blinding.
Whatever had passed between the two of them had bonded them together, and Koen doubted anything he did or said would separate them.
“If you hurt her, I will kill you,” Koen told him.
Boy’s eyes glittered as if he wanted to say the same, but he merely bowed jerkily.
Marina looked proud and beamed at them, her eyes sparkling.
Koen wasn’t quite ready to let her off the hook. “Have you heard that people believe Boy is you and Daniil’s illegitimate love child?”
Her mouth dropped open. Then she looked at Boy speculatively. “He does have the look about him.”