CHAPTER FIVE
Ren found that he slept better than he had in months aboard The Wayward Prince.
He didn’t try to fool himself that he had any kind of sentimental attachment to the ship itself. He’d chosen it because it was the least likely to be noticed missing from the Arcadian fleet and set off on a supposed training mission with a few loyal friends four years ago.
That loyalty hadn’t lasted long when they saw he was serious about not going back. He hadn’t blamed them — going on an extended joyride was one thing, helping the heir to the throne run away had more than a tinge of treason to it. No, he hadn’t blamed them; he’d paid for their passage home on the slowest transport ship he could find to buy himself more time and then set out to find a new crew, determined for once to take control of his own life. To be bold and unafraid. And then he had met Sebastian, who was all those things and more.
It was the more that was the problem.
Ren sighed and swung his legs out of the bunk onto the floor, careful not to hit his head when he stood up. Likely the real reason he was sleeping well was because he had this small room all to himself with very little chance that anyone would barge in with schedules or demands on his time. Despite his claims that he was here to keep an eye on the mission, he really had nothing to do while the ship traveled to Fortuna, except bother the crew. Free time was a luxury he was unaccustomed to.
“Computer,” he said, looking at the comm screen on the wall near the door, “is there a recreational area on board?”
The screen stayed dark.
“Computer?” He tapped at the screen. “Please respond.”
There was another pause and then with what seemed like deliberate slowness the word “Dub” was typed out on the screen.
“Oh. Dub?” Ren asked, and then jumped when a voice responded.
“Good morning, Prince Ren.” The voice was female and not entirely mechanical but definitely not human.
“I apologize for forgetting your name. It won’t happen again.” Whenever he was unsettled Ren’s manners kicked in to carry him through. “And if you please, it’s just Ren.”
“Noted,” Dub said. “What sort of recreation?”
“What’s that?”
“Your question. There are many forms of recreation and benefits from them. For instance, Lydia is currently working on her garden in sickbay. It’s lowered her blood pressure considerably. Mags and Bo’s heart and respiration rates have gone up because they seem to be engaged in sexual intercourse. Do you want to join in with any of these activities?”
“No, no,” Ren said quickly. “I want something like a gym. Physical activity — to do on my own. Like lifting weights.”
“Yes, Ren.” It was hard to tell, but it seemed like the voice was amused. “I can help you with that.”
The place that the computer directed Ren to was off the main cargo hold. From his brief time with the ship in the past he remembered it as a room to store extra parts and equipment. It was not a place he’d spent much, if any, time in, but upon entering the room Ren had to believe it hadn’t been so cluttered with junk before.
It was also occupied. Rylan was sitting on a bench in one corner of the room, wearing a tank top over work pants, his tanned skin smudged with grease. He looked up at Ren’s arrival.
“Oh,” Ren said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your work. The computer seems to have made a mistake. I was looking for the weight room.”
Something faintly like a smile creased Rylan’s face. “I suppose you’re in the right place then. I’ve rigged up some of the heavier things in here for exercise. It’s kind of a joke among the crew. Dub too, I guess.”
“Ah. The computer is quite different than it was before.”
Rylan grimaced slightly. “Yeah. There was… an incident about six months back. Dub got a bit of an unexpected upgrade. It comes out in odd ways. But she’s all right. Jaime makes sure of it.”
Ren was unsure as to whether he was intruding, but Rylan stood up and gestured for him to come farther into the room. It was a bit claustrophobic with the machinery stacked to the ceiling, but he saw that the cleared area in the middle of the room was more than wide enough for the two of them not to crowd each other, even with Rylan’s height and broad shoulders and the more modest bulk that Ren had worked so hard to achieve.
Rylan showed Ren what he had gathered — a couple of long metal bars, gears of varying sizes, with the largest nearly half Ren’s height, and some small crates with handles attached.
“I’m not sure about exact weights,” Rylan said, tossing Ren some work gloves. “I just know heavy or heavier. About everything in here’s got oil or other gunk on it, so lose the coat and shirt — the onboard laundry ain’t that great.”
Rylan turned and busied himself with moving a few of the weights over to one side of the space while Ren stripped. His body was one of the few things Ren wasn’t self-conscious about, but he appreciated the courtesy. Which reminded him—
“I hope I didn’t offend Jaime yesterday,” Ren said. “I was merely surprised. There is no aversion to his abilities on my world. Quite the opposite actually.”
“That’s good to hear,” Rylan said. “Lots of folks have strange ideas about what people like Jaime can and can’t do.” He fixed Ren with fierce blue eyes. “He’s saved this ship more than once. I won’t have his place on this mission — job, I mean — questioned.”
“Of course,” Ren said sincerely. “I have far more confidence in his abilities than in my own.”
Rylan gave a snort that was closer to a laugh and nodded toward some pieces of equipment on the floor. “Give those a go and see if they’re heavy enough for you.”
Rylan had easily moved the large gear with his one hand so Ren was surprised to find himself straining with both arms to lift it. “I’m in worse shape than I thought.”
“No.” Rylan pushed a smaller crate toward him. “My right arm’s artificial. Metal and gears underneath the skin.” He sat back down on the bench and began curling a short piece of metal with his left hand. “That’s why I’m in here most days. I don’t want the other arm to atrophy because I’m relying on the prosthetic too much. Also, it’s easy to tear something in my back or the surrounding muscles if I lift anything that’s too heavy for the rest of my body.”
“You have a better reason for exercise than I do,” Ren said ruefully. “I don’t like sports or competitions, but training is considered an acceptable use of my time. It’s one of the few where I’m not expected to make conversation.” He stopped, realizing how rude he sounded. “I didn’t mean—”
Rylan laughed fully this time. “We’ll get along fine. I’m not much for small talk myself.” He lay back on the bench, bracing a metal pipe across his chest. “Let me know if you need a spotter.”
The rest of the hour passed in a silence that Ren found more companionable than awkward, punctuated by occasional sounds of exertion. He did get Rylan to spot him for some of the heavier or more awkwardly shaped pieces of equipment and soon had a pleasantly tired feeling in muscles that had been unused since he’d left home. He left Rylan still working and headed out to the showers, absentmindedly throwing his shirt over his bare shoulder.
Turning a corner, he nearly collided with Sebastian. The other man put out his hands to stop himself from running straight into Ren’s chest and grasped his shoulder and bicep for one brief second before releasing him and jumping back. Sebastian swept his gaze over Ren’s sweat-dampened skin.
“Oh,” Sebastian said.
“Oh, yeah,” Simi added, standing just behind him and smiling.
Ren briefly considered covering up, but then he reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to be self-conscious of his body. The last time Sebastian had seen him half-dressed he’d been scrawnier, probably looking like an obvious mark to be taken advantage of. He wanted Sebastian to know that he wasn’t like that anymore — Ren had made himself strong despite Sebastian, in spite of him, and he wanted Sebastian to see it. He needed Sebastian to look at him, so it was frustrating that after that first startled glance Sebastian made eye contact only.
“Are the environmental settings not to your liking?” he asked Ren with careful politeness.
Ren frowned, not comprehending, and Simi helpfully jumped in. “You’re all sweaty. Glistening.”
“Yes, well, I was lifting weights. With Rylan,” he added, sounding petty to his own ears, but not liking the way his skin still tingled where Sebastian had touched it.
Sebastian sounded barely interested. “I’m sure it was very grunt-y.”
“I enjoyed it very much,” Ren said. “I was just headed to the showers.”
“You’re on the wrong level,” Simi said. “I could show you.” Her smile was innocent and helpful even as her eyes remained fixed on Ren’s chest.
Sebastian gave her an annoyed glance. “Simi. He doesn’t need any help.”
Sebastian finally seemed something other than bored, and Ren seized on that. “Actually,” he said to Simi, “your assistance would be much appreciated.”
He gestured as elegantly as he could manage for her to precede him, and her smile grew brighter. He followed her down the corridor without another glance at Sebastian.
It was only after a few minutes of navigating the ship’s corridors that he wondered how he would get himself out of this situation. “I don’t want to keep you from your duties. You could just point me in the right direction…”
Simi’s head barely reached Ren’s shoulder, and the look she turned up to him was impish. “Oh, I know I’m not your type, but I’m down with the jealousy play, as far as you want to take it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sebastian’s not sleeping with any of the crew,” she said cheerfully. “He’s very strict about that, and not in a fun strict way. Though,” she continued, sounding more thoughtful, “I wonder about him and Mags, before. I mean, they’ve known each other for years and years, so you have to think something would’ve happened. Also, one time I was asking Bo about threesomes, and he thought it was way too much work and that he and Mags had a rule about things that lead to excessive drama. But he called it the Garcia Rule, which is pretty suspicious, don’t you think?”
“Uh…”
She patted him on the arm. “Anyway, the showers are on the left. The one in the far corner has the best water pressure. Come by the engine room sometime.” Simi winked at him. “Shirts are optional.”
She walked away, whistling. Ren felt like his mind was reeling, but he did wish he’d had the chance to tell Simi that he was definitely not trying to make Sebastian jealous. At least, he was fairly sure of it.
Ren had heard the stories about the planet named Fortuna. Everyone had.
When the Singularity rose up and attacked, the planet had been unnamed — or rather had some forgotten classification. It hadn’t been a colony or even an outpost then; there may have been a surveying crew on the planet’s surface, but that was it. There was, however, a sightseeing vessel in low orbit to view the planet’s steep canyons and towering waterfalls, because that was something people could do back then: use all of that technology and energy to go and look at something they might find interesting.
The crew had been more capable than most and was able to prevent the Singularity-controlled computer from plunging them into an immediate dive. They couldn’t stop the ship’s descent, but the pilot managed to guide the ship — in a dead-stick glide in the final moments — in for a landing. Somehow, on a continent marked by narrow river valleys and jagged rocks, she was able to bring the ship to rest on a plateau long enough to hold a starship with three hundred passengers. It was said that no one was lost.
After a couple of weeks of treating their injuries and waiting for rescue, they were able to fashion ropes long enough to allow them to climb down from the plateau. There they found that another ship traveling with them hadn’t been so lucky. It had crashed, killing the crew but leaving a cargo of packaged foodstuffs intact. The inadvertent colonists were able to live off that until they determined what on the planet was edible. They used the hulls of the ships to build shelters that clung to the sides of the canyon.
All the data stored on any computers had been deleted by the Singularity, so figuring out how to survive was a matter of shared knowledge, guesswork, and chance. Particularly chance.
The only physical books on board were several volumes on old Earth Roman and Greek mythology owned by a wealthy scholar, who’d been carrying the antiques as status symbols. The books were passed around and read aloud endlessly by anxious people looking for any kind of distraction in the long nights. They connected to the idea of fate in those ancient stories, of unseen gods meddling in human lives for petty reasons. How else to make sense of the catastrophe that had befallen them and that they, somehow, had survived?
It was several decades before the fledgling Commonwealth detected the still-maintained rescue beacon up on the plateau and made contact. Instead of starving or feral survivors, they found a thriving colony, living off river fish, various tubers, and a healthy appreciation for the randomness of fate. They named their home after the Roman goddess of luck, and, while they eventually agreed to follow the Commonwealth laws on human rights and trade, the local government still ran mainly on some strangely defined rules of chance.
“Just remember,” Sebastian was saying to Ren as they traveled downward from the plateau-top spaceport in a small metal gondola, “do not challenge anyone here. Not over prices, not if they step on your toe.”
Ren eyed the rather rusty-looking walls around them with some concern — they were very high up and the gondola seemed poorly maintained. “Are people so eager to fight on Fortuna?”
“Most disputes here are settled by chance,” Sebastian said. “Roll of the dice, spin of the wheel, flip of the coin. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it can work out in your favor, but more often than not you’ll end up paying double or running for the nearest exit.”
He was standing next to an open window on the side of the gondola, and Ren steeled himself to go and stand beside him. “Is it because they cheat?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, even as his stomach took a lurch at a creak of the cables.
“Not generally; gambling is supposed to be sacred to them. But I will say that the citizens of Fortuna are luckier than most.” Sebastian swept a hand to take in the view of wood and metal structures clinging like barnacles to the sides of the cliffs, the narrow bridges over the churning river far below, and most of all, the flimsy-looking wires holding up the many moving gondolas, including their own. “They have to be.”
The crew had separated upon landing, some staying with the ship, others going off on errands related to the job. But Sebastian had insisted that he and Ren go shopping.
“Explain to me again why you need clothes that look like the ones you already have?” Ren asked testily after Sebastian turned around in the fifth three-quarter length coat he’d tried on.
He’d been patient during the harrowing gondola ride, while Sebastian cheerfully explained how Fortuna had very few exports due to their disregard of safety regulations, instead relying on visitors looking to gamble or take advantage of the arbitrary enforcement of laws. Ren had allowed Sebastian to lead him through the narrow streets, across terraced walkways and bridges, rejecting various stores, until he’d settled on the clearly very expensive one they were now in.
The proprietor had immediately offered Ren a comfortable chair and a cup of pale but sharp-tasting tea, before dealing with Sebastian’s requests, clearly identifying Ren as the one paying for everything. It reminded Ren of the conversation on the ship a few days ago, about people recognizing him as someone connected to money and power, and it made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t understand how anyone could look at him and not see someone who desperately wanted to avoid attention. Sebastian on the other hand…
“Too much?”
The coat Sebastian was wearing looked luxuriously soft, a russet color embroidered with gold thread at the cuffs and collar, and it brought out warm highlights in his skin and in his brown hair. Sebastian hadn’t shaved in a few days, and Ren wasn’t sure how, but the dark hair around his mouth and along his jaw made him look elegant rather than unkempt. Sebastian looked at Ren as the shop owner moved around, adjusting the cloth so it set off Sebastian’s lean body even more. But Ren wasn’t about to start giving him compliments.
Instead, he poked at the coat Sebastian had been wearing when they came in and was now hanging near Ren’s chair. “It’s a different color than this one, I’ll give you that.”
Sebastian slipped off the coat, nodding to the owner who bustled off with it to the back of the store. Sebastian leaned against the arm of Ren’s chair, planting a long thigh very near Ren’s hand. “This thing?” Sebastian tugged at his coat. “I won it off a long-haul spacer in a drinking game and tailored it myself with a needle and thread in my quarters. It has style, which is why I drank so much rotgut liquor to get it, but not much else beyond that. We need to match, you and I.”
Ren looked down at himself in his plain dark clothes. The best that could be said of the garments was that they didn’t call attention to themselves or Ren, which is why he chose them. “Please don’t tell me I have to buy a new wardrobe too.”
The proprietor, coming back, made a happy, hopeful sound, and Sebastian grinned and leaned in closer to Ren.
“Not at all. Touch.”
For a moment Ren thought he meant the invitingly close thigh, but he saw that Sebastian was holding up a sleeve. Ren rubbed a bit of the coat’s fabric between his fingers, looking at Sebastian quizzically. “Now yours.”
Ren touched his own sleeve. The cloth felt heavier than Sebastian’s, the texture silkier.
“Natural materials,” Sebastian’s mouth was very near to Ren’s ear. “Yours wasn’t extruded from a machine or grown in a vat.”
“Lots of people wear cloth made from plants and… animal parts.”
“Sheep, generally,” Sebastian supplied, smiling. “People shear the hair to make wool. But that kind of handmade is different. You should have seen the homespun wool I wore growing up. Itched like you wouldn’t believe, and every bit of clothing was passed down and patched. Because making it took so much time, you see. Time is something that costs.” He ran a light finger over the seam of Ren’s sleeve. “What’s more, every part of your body was measured and then this was tailored to fit you, only you. Do you not wonder where your clothes come from, Your Majesty?”
Ren shifted, not liking Sebastian’s words, not liking their implication, and especially not liking the low, intimate way they were murmured and the way his body was responding to Sebastian’s nearness. “Yes, well,” Ren said, sounding prim to his own ears as he straightened his clothing, leaning away from Sebastian. “I’ll keep that in mind when I get back home.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow but moved away from Ren’s chair. “There’s nothing wrong with how you dress,” Sebastian said over his shoulder as he looked at the racks of clothes. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Buttoned up and proper is intriguing. Contained strength, a package you want to unwrap, all that. It makes sense that you’d dress me with more flash.”
“I’d dress you?” Sebastian’s eyes cut quickly to where the store owner was standing at the counter and Ren lowered his voice, getting up to stand next to Sebastian. “This act, the two of us as buyers, are we supposed to be together? Not just as business partners?”
Sebastian shrugged noncommittally, heading toward the counter. Ren set his jaw and followed, since of course he was paying for everything.
“When the alterations are finished have it all sent to the hotel,” Sebastian said to the man. He plucked the best-fitting of the coats he’d already tried out of the careful pile the shopkeeper had made and put it on with careless ease. “This one I’ll wear out.”
“What hotel?” Ren asked.
“There’s only one good hotel in all of Fortuna,” Sebastian said, and the store owner laughed knowingly. Sebastian tossed his old coat onto the counter to be sent along with the rest.
The man named a price that even Ren knew was high for five coats and a number of fine shirts and pants that Sebastian had added. The proprietor put one hand on a small wooden statue on the counter as he waited for Ren; he’d touched it when they’d first come in the store, and Ren supposed it was meant to be the goddess Fortuna. He remembered Sebastian’s warning about challenging the price, not that Ren would be rude enough to do so under any circumstances, and nodded. The man smiled, pleased, as Ren paid.
“Good fortune to you both,” he called as they left the store.
“You really did get taken,” Sebastian said, laughing as they walked along the narrow street. “He pegged you for a high roller and increased everything by thirty percent. He’ll be polishing that statue long into the night to celebrate.”
“I’m glad you made someone’s day,” Ren replied sourly. “I suppose now we’re going to check into that hotel.”
“You’re catching on fast. We won’t stay on the ship while this job is on. It’s all about appearances.”
“And will the room that I’m expected to share with you have more than one bed?” He stopped walking, feeling stubborn. “Sebastian?”
“We’ll get a suite; those have couches, don’t they?” Sebastian caught his arm, turning Ren to face him. “You’re new to this, Ren, and by your own admission, not that comfortable with the amount of trickery we’re going to have to do to get in with Graven’s crowd of potential buyers. If we’re posing as lovers, it’s easier for me to guide you and even take the lead.” His lips curved wryly. “While I may be devilishly handsome, there’s no hiding that I may be slightly older than you.” Sebastian let Ren give him a dry look that acknowledged their ten-year age difference before continuing. “The wealthy criminals we’ll be meeting will assume I’ve seduced a rich young man for unscrupulous purposes. What’s more, they’ll underestimate you. I’m trying to create a narrative that people will not only accept but feel smugly superior about. That’s the best kind, because it’s one they’re less likely to question.”
Ren found the old flare of anger again, the fire that had been near to dying out in the face of Sebastian’s presence and smiles and dark eyes. “I suppose,” he said, voice carefully controlled, “that all good lies have a truth to them.”
Sebastian’s face changed, turning bleak. “Ren…”
There was a sudden shout from up the street.
“Fuck,” Sebastian said. “Right on time.” He gripped Ren’s arm urgently. “Don’t move.”
“What?”
One of the narrow three-wheeled vehicles that hauled goods throughout the town was coming down the street. Speeding wildly, in fact. Ren could see that the small pod at the front of the truck, where the driver was supposed to be, was empty. The shouts of the people around them were turning to screams of warning as the truck headed toward a small group outside a restaurant.
Sebastian was beside him and then quite suddenly he wasn’t, darting toward the people. It put him directly in the path of the vehicle, and Ren felt a sudden panic grip him. Sebastian was out of his reach, but the truck — the truck was passing right there, and Ren leaped.
He caught the edge of the swinging door and hauled himself up into the pod. There were a couple of levers on the dashboard and several large switches. Ren hit as many as he could before taking hold of the steering wheel thinking to swerve the thing and crash it into a wall, but there was a sudden shudder, and the truck stopped abruptly, knocking Ren’s face against the steering wheel.
He looked up from the wheel in the now powered-down vehicle to see Sebastian’s shocked face staring back at him from the street. Ren let out a breath. Sebastian had been pushing the other people out of the way, but he’d been so close—
Ren realized that one of the people Sebastian was holding back from the truck’s path was a man with a gold streak in his dark hair and a long scar over his eye.
Oh.
The adrenaline was rapidly deserting him, leaving Ren a little shaky with too many other emotions. There was relief that no one was injured, along with a growing anger and embarrassment, and to be honest a little hurt that Sebastian hadn’t trusted him with whatever plan he had. Ren tamped all of it down because now Anil Graven was coming over, along with a crowd of people.
But Sebastian got there first, elbowing through to reach Ren as he climbed down from the truck. “Are you all right?” he demanded, staring at him.
Ren nodded and tried to straighten his clothes but found he couldn’t because Sebastian was holding onto his arms very tightly. “I’m fine,” Ren said, wondering why Sebastian was overplaying the concern.
“Your lip’s bleeding.” He started to reach up, but then stopped, releasing Ren completely. Ren pulled a cloth from his coat pocket and held it to his mouth, giving Sebastian a pointed stare as he did. Graven — their target — was right there.
Graven beamed at Ren. “That was nothing short of heroic, my friend. You saved my life just now.”
Ren shook his head politely. He waited for Sebastian to jump in, but he stayed silent. “I’m sure I just prevented a few scrapes, but I’m glad to have been of service. I’m Rickard,” he said, remembering the false name Sebastian had chosen for him during the journey to Fortuna. He subtly nudged Sebastian, covering the motion as he lowered the bloody handkerchief from his mouth.
“Garcia,” he said, snapping to and shaking Graven’s offered hand. “Captain Sebastian Garcia.” By his own admission Sebastian had said that he didn’t need an alias since he was not likely to be known by someone like Graven, and if he was it was as a smuggler, which suited the parts they were playing.
Graven had a broad smile, which he fixed on both of them. Up close the scar was even more prominent, raised and gnarled. The eye beneath it was the same amber brown as the other, but Ren saw that the pupil dilated independently. Likely artificial.
“You must join me for a drink,” he was saying, “and allow me to thank you properly.”
Despite the fact that his arms and legs were trembling and that his lip was throbbing, Ren felt the reflexes of politeness take hold, thanks to years of attending official functions. Underneath that too was a thrum of excitement — this was their mission, this man was the key to restoring the Heart and everything it meant to Ren’s world. He started to agree, but Sebastian abruptly cut him off.
“No,” he said. “We need to get him — Rickard — back to the hotel.”
Ren blinked, but Graven’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course, this has been quite the shock. Still, fate has brought us together…”
One of the people standing with Graven — a young woman — tugged on his sleeve and stretched up to whisper something in his ear. Graven considered for a brief moment — Ren caught the quick sweep his eyes did over them, taking in their clothing — and nodded. “Why don’t you join me tomorrow night? I’m having a gathering of friends and associates, people who are, like me, interested in history and culture. You must both come so I can find out what’s brought you to Fortuna.”
That last sounded more like an order than an invitation, but Ren inclined his head in agreement.
“Excellent,” Graven said. “I’ll send word round with the details. You’re at the Hotel Mercury, of course?”
“Of course,” Ren said since Sebastian had fallen silent.
“Thank you again,” Graven said.
One of the people with him was trying to attract his attention, and Graven gave them one more beaming smile before hurrying off. The woman who had spoken to him before lingered, looking up at Ren and Sebastian with widely spaced green eyes. She was small-boned, with close-cropped dark hair and light skin that had a smattering of freckles. A tattoo of two parallel lines ran from her bottom lip down her chin. “Good fortune to you,” she said, looking at them with sharp interest in her eyes.
“And to you,” Ren said uncertainly, but she’d already turned away to follow Graven. He turned to look at Sebastian, but the other man was waving down a pedicab. The crowd was dispersing, or looking at the truck, but Ren thought he glimpsed familiar blond hair and broad shoulders farther up the street.
“Jaime’s work, I take it?” he asked Sebastian in a low voice.
Sebastian gave a distracted nod, hustling Ren into the cab. He shut the privacy screen separating their seats and the pedaling driver. “He’s up the street with Rylan, working his magic to take control of that vehicle. Graven’s supposed to have been eating lunch at that restaurant every day for the past ten years, so aiming a truck at the place seemed like a way to meet him.”
“And what better way on Fortuna to introduce yourself than with a bit of luck.” Ren spoke lightly, but his own foolishness was still stinging.
“Until you nearly got yourself killed,” Sebastian said with some heat. “What were you thinking?”
“Do I really need to point out that could have been avoided if you’d simply told me your plan?”
Ren was braced for an argument, even looking forward to having a reason to lose some of his control, but Sebastian only ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Damn it. I had it in my head that you’d object or not behave naturally. I certainly wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.” His lips twisted self-mockingly. “I thought I was being clever, impressively so, but then you…” He stared at him so intently that Ren thought perhaps his lip had reopened. Sebastian finally shook his head. “What was that jump, Your Majesty?”
Ren shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “It was nothing.”
The interior of the cab was very small, so the two of them were crammed together, but Ren didn’t feel like shifting away.
“That gathering tomorrow is likely for potential buyers. I’ve got the crew spread out at various local haunts talking about what a big spender you are, getting the gossip mills turning. Between that and your heroics, you’ll be the hit of the party.”
Ren couldn’t help himself; he grimaced at the thought.
“Are you shy or do you just hate people?” Sebastian’s lips twitched into something close to a smile. “Both is an acceptable answer.”
“I don’t hate people — most people.” He looked away. “I just don’t like disappointing them.”
“Well,” Sebastian said easily, “as someone with low expectations of myself and humanity in general, you dazzled today. When we meet with Graven we’ll impress upon him that you’re as reckless with your money as you are with personal safety.”
“I want to go over the plan again at the hotel. All of it, Sebastian.”
“Yes,” Sebastian agreed. “I am sorry about that.”
Ren nodded, settling back in his seat, and not mentioning that it was the first time he could recall Sebastian apologizing to him about anything.