The Royals

Chapter 59

Felicia bit her bottom lip, her brows drawing together. “It is better than nothing. I know the wedding is costing too much as it is. But...I don’t know.

Father?”

Silas was about to say something but faltered. Kate was only halfwatching, concentrating more on trying to resist the urge to sip from the glass that Silas had already refilled for her. Aron loved to barter. It was a hobby of his to get the best price possible, no matter what he was after.

“I mean no disrespect, of course,” Silas said, wringing his hands. “Would you be willing to come up to twenty-five centimos per case?”

“No, I would not.” Aron inspected his fingernails. “As good as your wine is, I know there are many other wine sellers at this busy market, as well as on our way back to the ship, who’d be more than happy to accept my offer. I can move my business to them if you’d prefer to lose this sale. Is that what you want?”

“No, I...” Silas swallowed, his forehead a furrow of wrinkles. “I do want to sell my wine. It’s the reason I’m here. But for fifteen centimos...”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we make it fourteen centimos per case?” A glint of wickedness appeared in Aron’s green eyes. “And you have to the count of ten to accept or my offer decreases by another centimo.”

Mira looked away from the debate, embarrassed. Kate opened her mouth —then, remembering what Aron could do with her secret if she chose, closed it. He was determined to get this wine for the lowest price he could. And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to pay any more, since Kate knew he had more than enough money on him to buy many cases even at the top price.

“Fine,” Silas finally said through clenched teeth, although it seemed as if it deeply pained him. He flicked a glance at Felicia before returning his attention to Aron. “Fourteen per case for sixteen cases. I’ll give my daughter the wedding she deserves.”

“Excellent. As we Auranians have always assured you…” With a small smile of victory, Aron dug into his pocket to pull out a roll of notes, counting them off into the man’s outstretched palm. It was now more than obvious that the total sum was only a small percentage of what Aron had with him. By the look of outrage in Silas’s eyes, the insult wasn’t missed. “…Grapes,” Aron

continued, “will never fail to feed your nation.”

Two figures approached the stall from Kate’s left.

“Felicia,” a deep voice asked. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your friends, getting all dressed up?”

“Soon, Tomas,” she whispered. “We’re about to finish up here.”

Kate glanced to her left. Both boys who’d approached the stall had dark hair, nearly black. Dark brows slashed over copper-brown eyes. They were tall and broad-shouldered and deeply tanned. Tomas, the older of the two in his early twenties, studied his father and sister. “Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Silas said through gritted teeth. “Of course not. I’m dealing

with a transaction, that’s all.”

“You’re lying. You’re upset right now. I can tell.”

“I’m not.”

The other boy cast a dark glare at Aron and then at Kate and Mira. “Are these people trying to cheat you, Father?”

“Jonas,” Silas said tiredly, “this isn’t your business.”

“This is my business, Father. How much did this man”—Jonas’s gaze swept the length of Aron with undisguised distaste—“agree to pay you?”

“Fourteen a case,” Aron offered casually. “A fair price that your father was more than happy to accept.”

“Fourteen?” Jonas sputtered. “You dare insult him like that?”

Tomas grabbed the back of Jonas’s shirt and pulled him backward. “Calm down.”

Jonas’s dark eyes flashed. “When our father’s being taken advantage of by some ridiculous silk-wearing bastard, I take offense.”

“Bastard?” Aron’s voice had turned to ice. “Who are you calling a bastard, peasant?”

Tomas turned slowly, anger brimming in his gaze. “My brother was calling you a bastard. Bastard.”

And this, Kate thought with a sinking feeling, was the absolute worst thing someone could ever call Aron. It wasn’t common knowledge, but he was a bastard. Born of a pretty blond maid his father once took a liking to. Since Sebastien Lagaris’s wife was barren, she had taken the baby on as her own from the moment he was born. The maid, Aron’s real mother, had died soon after under mysterious circumstances that no one had dared to question either then or now. But there was still talk. And this talk was what had met Aron’s ears when he was old enough to understand what it all meant.

“Princess?” Theon asked, as if looking for her command to intervene. She put her hand on his arm to stop him. This didn’t need to become more of a scene than it already was.

“Let’s go, Aron.” She exchanged a worried look with Mira, who nervously set down her second glass of wine.

Aron’s attention didn’t leave Tomas. “How dare you insult me?”

“You should obey your little girlfriend and leave,” Tomas advised. “The sooner the better.”

“And as soon as your father fetches the cases of wine for me, I’d be more than happy to do just that.”

“Forget the wine. Walk away and consider yourself lucky that I didn’t make a bigger deal of your insult toward my father. He is trusting and willing to undersell himself. I am not.”

Aron bristled, his previous calm now thrust aside by offense and inebriation, making him much braver than he should be when faced with two tall, muscular Paelsians. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Do we care?” Jonas and his brother exchanged a glance.

“I am Aron Lagaris, son of Sebastien Lagaris, lord of Elder’s Pitch. I stand here in your market accompanied by none other than Princess Cleiona

Bellos of Auranos. Show respect to us both.”

“This is ridiculous, Aron.” Kate hissed a small breath from between her teeth. She did wish that he wouldn’t put on such airs. Mira slipped her arm through Kate’s and squeezed her hand. Let’s go, she seemed to be signaling.

“Oh, your highness.” Sarcasm dripped from Jonas’s words as he mockbowed. “Both of your highnesses. It is a true honor to be in your shining presence.”

“I could have you beheaded for such disrespect,” Aron slurred. “Both of you and your father. Your sister too.”

“Leave my sister out of this,” Tomas growled.

“Let me guess, if it’s her wedding day, I’ll assume she’s already with child? I’ve heard Paelsian girls don’t wait for marriage before they spread their legs to anyone with enough coin to pay.” Aron glanced at Felicia, who looked mortified and indignant. “I have some money. Perhaps you might give me a half hour of your attentions before dusk.” “Aron!” Kate snapped, appalled.

That she was totally ignored by him was no surprise. Jonas turned his furious gaze on her—so hot she felt singed by it.

Tomas, who seemed the marginally less hotheaded of the two brothers, turned the darkest, most venomous glare she’d ever seen in her life on Aron.

“I could kill you for saying such a thing about my sister.”

Aron gave him a thin smile. “Try it.”

Kate finally cast a look over her shoulder at a frustrated-looking Theon, whom she’d basically commanded not to intervene. It was clear to her now that she had no control over this situation. All she wanted to do was go back to the ship and leave all this unpleasantness far behind. But it was too late for that now.

Powered by the insult toward his sister, Tomas flew at Aron with fists clenched. Mira gasped and put her hands over her eyes. There was no doubt Tomas would easily win a fight between the two and beat the thinner Aron into a b****y pulp. But Aron had a weapon—his fashionable jeweled dagger he wore at his hip.

It was now in his grip.

Tomas didn’t see the knife. When he drew closer and grabbed hold of Aron’s shirt, Aron thrust his blade into Tomas’s throat. The boy’s hands shot up to his neck as the blood began to gush, his eyes wide with shock and pain. A moment later, he fell to his knees and then fully hit the ground. His hands clawed at his throat, the dagger still deeply embedded there. Blood swiftly formed a crimson puddle around the boy’s head.

It had all happened so fast.

Kate clamped her hand against her mouth to keep from screaming.

Another did scream—Felicia let out a piercing wail of horror that turned Kate’s blood ice cold. And suddenly the rest of the market collectively took notice of what had happened.

Shouts sliced through the market. There was a sudden rush of bodies all around her, pushing and shoving. She shrieked. Theon clamped his arm around Kate’s waist and roughly yanked her backward. Jonas had started for her and Aron, grief and fury etched onto his face. Theon pushed Mira in front of him and pulled Kate under his arm, Aron close behind. They fled the market while Jonas’s enraged words pursued them.

“You’re dead! I’ll kill you for this! Both of you!”

“He deserved it,” Aron growled. “He was going to try to kill me. I was defending myself.”

“Keep going, your lordship,” grunted Theon, sounding disgusted. They pushed their way through the crowd, making their stumbling way onto the road back to the ship.

Tomas would never live to see his sister get married. Felicia would never see her brother again—instead she’d witnessed his murder on her wedding day. The wine Kate had drunk churned and soured in her stomach. She yanked away from Theon’s grip and threw up onto the path.

She could have had Theon stop this before it got so far out of control. But she hadn’t.

No pursuers seemed to be following them, and after a while it became clear that the Paelsians were letting them leave. They slowed to a fast stride. Kate kept her head down, holding on to Mira for support. The foursome walked through the dusty landscape in absolute silence.

Kate thought she’d never get the image of the boy’s pain-filled eyes out of her mind.