Serpent's Traitor (Four Kingdoms #2)

14. raging hellhole (part 1)

"What the hell for?" Ren asked in frustration. He just wanted to get to the bloody castle and prepare for the days of reckoning that would follow the Queen's arrival. Was that too much to ask for?

Why must everything be so goddamn difficult?

"Aydin has a plan." Sephirah beamed at him, her eyes dancing with fire and pathetic admiration as if that was supposed to make him ecstatic.

If someone told him three years ago, he would be with an infatuated, insane woman who breathed fire in her sleep alongside her buffoon of a pestering prince of idiotic proportions, he would have dug his own grave and laid in it.

"That's just bloody great." Ren glanced at the ceiling, oozing peer hatred for the bastards wiggling with pleasure at his current predicament. The last place he wanted to be was on a godforsaken harbor—just the thought of being near water was as appealing as taking shelter in piss-stained and rotten alleys to hide away from street gangs amid winter.

Something he'd never grown fond of doing in the past. Ren returned his icy glare to the pair while Alethia remained motionless by his side, a picture of indifference on her face.

"Does the plan lead us to the castle?" Alethia questioned, accepting a leather pouch that Sephirah's outstretched arm held.

"Of course," Aydin confirmed, running a hand through his tossed hair. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Ren opened his mouth to respond, and Sephirah jumped in, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Don't you dare answer that question, Renny."

"I don't take orders from a madwoman," Ren replied, switching his attention to Aydin. "Or a hare-brained, moron of a prince. Put that scrawny finger down and follow lover boy to the harbor."

If Alethia was going, then he had no choice in the matter. He was genuinely cursed.

"At least I won't die in a cold, empty bed," Aydin jeered with a stupid smirk.

A variety of images flashed through Ren's mind that all ended in the same outcome: Aydin's chopped-off head strung to a fleeing horse and dragged through the inner city, bouncing off cobblestone at the merry tone of piss off. Ren entertained the blissful picture in his thoughts as the group made their way down the stairs.

Aydin passed Ren's cloak and belongings with a jolly chuckle of amusement when they exited the tavern.

I liked it better when he was drunk and miserable.

Alethia stuck close to him as they trailed the village's winding streets. Her hand grasped the hilt of her sword in preparation for the unexpected. Their muffled footsteps on the dirt path filled the stillness of the night, only surpassed by the occasional stray cats and dogs scuffling through piles of garbage in the alleys.

Ren's eyes were in a constant phase of movement as he scanned the area for lurking, grudgeful men with a desire to prove themselves. Ren didn't give a rat's ass how much the Nixian women shattered their pride. If they wanted a fight, he'd provide them with one.

But for once, he hoped it didn't come down to that. Even he recognized the necessity for unity at this point. Wars were won with more allies than enemies. Despite the training from the elders, they remained a fraction of the power required to bring down the Queen. A strong foothold at the kingdom's borders would dwindle the incoming army and allow them to focus on the bigger fish.

Without that, they were just prey waiting for slaughter.

The walk to the harbor was lackluster—just the way Ren preferred his life. The Wasted Sea splayed before them in a downward descent from the village homes. A wooden dock stretched into its murky waters while a line of varying-sized ships swayed with the turbulent waves. Near the pier rested a large stone building with shuttered windows unable to contain the swath of orange and yellow incandescent light that leaked out their corners.