Royals of Ruemri Book I: Betrothal

Chapter 9 - Part 2

THIRTY-SEVEN finest soldiers of the Imperial Army were dead because of a Pantheon-damned poison. Raffe still cannot believe how foolish they'd been to exclude the forest of Gasi Eil for any possibility of ambush.

"Who would anyway?" he asked, irritated, to no one in particular as Zenon stitched the long gash in his right leg. He was distracted for a minute and had turned a second late when a rebel took a heavy swing towards him. A lucky thing that Raffe had only acquired a nasty wound than losing an arm. "We're more than fifteen leagues from Zuan, for fuck's sake. Are they that eager to kill the heir of the fucking empire? Pantheon damn them all!"

"You're going to wake your consort if you raise your voice like that, cousin," Jadel silently chided as he sprang out of nowhere and handed him a cup of mulled wine.

Raffe took it gratefully and murmured his thanks while the wine sweetly burned down his throat. He glanced at the cot beside him and found Soren still unconscious, color turning back to his pale face.

As soon as the battle ended and High Commander Salav announced they made camp in the clearing, Soren collapsed and had not been awake since then.

Tearing his eyes away from the faie, which took a lot of effort than Raffe would care to admit, he looked up and met his cousin's eyes. "What of the three rebels?" he asked, barely keeping the sharp resentment that accompanied his tone. Before Jadel could answer, however, a scream broke out from one of the nearby tents. Raffe saw how the other soldiers from the open doorway of his tent stopped from what they were doing and threw mortified glances in the direction of the terrified voice.

Jadel heaved a sigh and briefly massaged his left shoulder. "Well, fortunately for us, Risam's on them. I'm sure those fucking idiots are wishing they should've died back there on the battlefield than face the wrath of that tigress."

Huffing and thanking Zenon for tending his wound when he was finished, Raffe downed the remaining wine in his cup and slowly stood up, testing the strength of his leg. It was aggravatingly painful, but it was bearable and he tried hard not to wince when pain flared faintly over the stitches. He knew that Jadel was silently observing him so he schooled his well-trained straight face to give nothing away. He did not want to be mothered by his fellow soldiers over a mere gash when others were badly wounded and needed more attention than he was.

Jadel stared at his leg pointedly. "How does it feel?"

"It's manageable."

He was answered by a huff.

"I'm fine," Raffe retorted dryly, jaw set and ready to argue if they decided to delay their departure because of him.

"I did not say anything."

Raffe glared at him. He knew his cousin a little bit too much to figure out what he was thinking right now. "You're about to."

Jadel shrugged. "What do you want me to do then? I'm just doing my job of, oh, I don't know, keeping the stubborn ass who's going to rule the empire someday from killing himself over stupid and overly dangerous situations. Stop giving me that look."

"You're Deputy High Commander, I'm High Crown Prince. I'll do whatever I want, including giving you looks,"

His cousin let out a disgruntled noise and an audible insufferable sigh like he was tired of repeatedly explaining something to an idiot who doesn't know anything about sensible logic.

"Sometimes, I wish I could just drop your persistent carcass in the ocean, Raf. As you've said, you're High Crown Prince. You're too important and you know it. You should have stayed in Ruemreon. I should have pushed the High King to let you stay in that damn palace." Shaking his head, he glanced at Soren. "You and him both."