Lost Destinies

↳ 34: Letting Bygones Be Bygones

Everette's head jerked slightly, involuntarily. Although he was far from dressed in ceremonial clothes, heavy jewelry still rested at his collar and on his fingers. He removed the ring from his pinky finger, a recent birthday gift, and slid it back on again, repeating this several more times.

"Do you intend to tell me where we're really going?"

The question startled Felix enough to make his shaking grip on the wheel veer out-of-lane. He righted the vehicle just quickly enough to avoid disaster on slick Snow roads. "I'm sorry?"

"Felix," said Everette gently, "you never let me go anywhere without an accompanying army of personal guards. And yet..." He turned to gesture about the car, making his point silently. They were alone.

"You came anyway," Felix mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Why?"

Everette shrugged, making himself all the smaller. "I trust you."

You shouldn't, he nearly said. But he kept his mouth shut.

"You're the only one who seems to care anymore," Everette went on, quietly. "About me." He trailed a finger along the window. "Even if you might be driving me to the middle of the woods to assassinate me right about now. Although I doubt I'm quite so important as to be worth assassinating. And your track record with that sort of thing's pretty good."

Oh, yes, Felix remembered. He remembered Snow as a young girl. He remembered the order. The plea for mercy in her eyes.

The squelch of his ax lodged in the heart of a wild boar. He'd let her go. Not so long ago in the scheme of things.

He released a careful breath. Things were much different this time.

Someone wants the royals dead.

He couldn't help thinking—if the prince had to die, too, then why not kill him on the day they killed his mother? Surely the terrorists knew better than to waste time. And even then, why send him to fetch His Highness rather than ordering him to perform the execution himself? Could he even do it, execute the prince? He glanced over at Everette one more time. No, he didn't think so. But for Marissa and their daughter, almost certainly. He wouldn't even feel it.

There was only one logical explanation: that Everette was to be kept alive. But for what, that was the puzzle. A sixteen-year-old king's son, what good would he be? A hostage? Could that really be all the terrorists were after, ransom money?

Eventually they pulled into the driveway and Everette's ring found its place back on his finger and remained there. He kept rapidly blinking one eye, rubbing it to make it stop. "Is this where you live?"

There was no point in being dishonest now. "Yes," Felix replied tersely, motioning for Everette to follow him into the house. In his head—You've been entrusted with this boy's life, trusted by the king himself. And this is what you do with him?

The king would have him imprisoned for the rest of his sorry days when he inevitably connected Felix to this. He was already planning how to pack his things, where to take his family and make his escape. He would desert. Out of Akburc. Off the continent if he had to. Anything to keep Marissa safe.

I'm sorry, Everette.

White-knuckled, Felix pushed in the door. Silence pervaded the house like a stench. Everette had to know by now that something was wrong. "Sir..."

"Your Highness, I—" He choked on the lie threatening to come up his throat. "I need your help. Gravely." There. That wasn't a lie, although he wasn't admitting the full truth, either. He held Everette tightly by the arm, realized he was being too harsh, and let go, his breath catching.