08 A Little Hatred: Book One (The Age of Madness)

Someone came in with a silver tray teetering on one hand, things sliding dangerously about on top. His crimson jacket, heavy with gold stitching, hung open to show a strip of pale and slightly hairy chest and belly. He turned slowly towards the bed, concentrating furiously on keeping his tray balanced.

It was Crown Prince Orso.

‘Oh.’ Rikke felt her eyebrows go very high then, as that last part of last night suddenly came rushing back. ‘Oh …’ She’d been about to cover up, but now there didn’t seem much point, so she just flopped back, arms outstretched.

‘You’re awake,’ he said, grinning.

‘So you say,’ she croaked out. ‘How much did I drink?’

‘All of it, I think.’ He put the tray down proudly on the bed beside her. ‘I brought you an egg.’

She lifted her chin a little to give it the eye. Her guts had felt far from settled ever since Leo’s duel. They felt less settled than ever now. ‘Well done. Lay it yourself, did you?’

‘There’s no point being a crown prince if you mean to do all the hard work. But look, I carried it from the door to the bed.’ And he gestured at the path he’d taken. ‘As you observed last night, fucking a crown prince is no great distinction, even if you did it rather bloody well—’

She gave a humble shrug. ‘I’ve a gift, what can I say?’

‘—but being brought breakfast by one, that is a rare honour.’

She had to admit to feeling a little bit honoured. She wasn’t sure anyone had brought her breakfast before. Leo certainly never bothered. The thought would never penetrate his thick skull that there were needs in the world other than his. She wondered where he was, now. With that hideously beautiful woman, more than likely, who she couldn’t even hate on account of the absurdly generous gift of green jewels that were right now gleaming on her chest.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, fishing a crumpled sheaf of papers from the tray. She was no expert on printing but she reckoned this a poor example.

‘It’s a newsbill. They tell you what’s happening.’ Orso thought about that. ‘Or they tell you what to think about what’s happening.’ He thought more. ‘Or the really successful ones just confirm what you already think about what’s happening.’

‘Huh.’ There was a smudged etching on the front of Leo on horseback looking even more pompous than usual. There must’ve been half a page about exactly how he trimmed his beard. Then there was something about Breakers rampaging, trouble in the South, rivalries with Styria, how immigrants had ruined the tone of a neighbourhood, how everything was better during the reign of King Casamir …

She gave a disbelieving snort. ‘Hear this shit. “His Highness was observed leaving the function in the company of the beautiful and mysterious Witch of the North …”’

‘Now, that is poor writing.’ Orso ever so gradually leaned towards her as he spoke, eyes fixed earnestly on her face. ‘It should say beautiful, mysterious, shapely, cunning, talented, highly entertaining—’

She flung the newsbill fluttering across the room, grinned as she caught Orso by the ear, pulled him close and kissed him full on the mouth. A scuzzy and sour-tasting kiss, but if you hold off till everything’s perfect, think of all the great kisses you’ll miss.

‘You’re not quite what I was expecting,’ she said as they broke apart.

‘Even more handsome in the flesh, eh?’

‘Handsome, I expected. Kind, I didn’t.’

‘Kind?’ He gave a her a strange look. ‘That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.’ He peered up at the ceiling. ‘Now I’m wondering if it’s the only nice thing anyone’s ever said about me. I could show you the city!’ He jumped up from the bed with an enthusiasm that made her head hurt. ‘Adua! City of White Towers! It’s the centre of the world, you know.’

‘So I hear.’

‘The theatre! I can get the place cleared. Arrange a private showing, just for the two of us.’

‘Folk acting out silly stories? All magic and wars and romance? Don’t reckon that’s for me.’

‘Cards, then. Do you play cards?’

‘Not sure it’d be fair. I’ve got the Long Eye, remember?’

His eyes went wide, like a boy who’s found a fine new game. ‘Even better! I can finally wipe the smirk off that bastard Tunny’s face at the gaming table!’

‘Thought you had a parade to lead?’

Orso’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t deserve a parade. Unless it happened to be stomping over me, I suppose.’ And he flopped down on his back, staring up at the gilded leaves on the ceiling.

‘Thought you crushed some rebellion?’

‘Oh, yes, the heroic crown prince. I talked some labourers into surrendering.’

‘Well, that’s something to celebrate. Saved some lives, didn’t you?’

‘I did.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Then they all got hanged.’

Rikke stared up at the ceiling herself. ‘Ah.’

‘I didn’t make it happen. But I didn’t stop it, either. Some hero, eh?’

‘I’m told a leader has to make o’ their heart a stone.’ Rikke sat up and plucked the egg out of its cup. ‘At least you know what y’are.’ And she bit the top off it.

‘I’m no Young Lion. I think we can agree on that.’