Page 127 of Heartbreak Prince

Vawn inhales and exhales a couple of times, then falls into his death pose again. He doesn’t breathe for a full minute as Cordall turns around and absorbs the sight. The artist walks a few steps in either direction to get multiple angles of the scene in his mind.

“I have it,” he says. “Well done, your Highness. I’ll go back to the palace and imprint a few images, and then we’ll choose one for circulation.”

He hops onto one of the Tularesk carpets and glides away.

“I wonder if people will really believe it,” I muse. “You look so pretty, and the lighting is perfect. Maybe we should have done it at night.”

“We talked about that.” Vawn dabs at the fake blood on his face, smearing it between his fingertips. “It would have been too cold and too dark. And why would I be at a tailor’s shop during the night?”

“Fucking the tailor?” suggests Severin, and I swat at him.

“I only fuck my bodyguard now,” Vawn says. “For the love of my nipples, please get this beam off me.”

Once all of us are safely back in the palace, we review the two images that Cordall has already created.

“Shit, I do look gorgeous don’t I?” Vawn wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes lightly, lowering his voice. “Darling, what if we have Cordall witness a few of our private activities and provide us with some images? I wouldn’t mind keeping them in a safe place to look at occasionally.” He takes in my expression, then says quickly, “A dreadful idea. Let’s pretend I never mentioned it.”

“Once my glyphs recharge, I can produce a few more options, different angles of the death scene,” Cordall offers.

“I think we have what we need.” I point to the second image. “We should use this one. You look extra convincing.” And tragically beautiful and regal, but I don’t say that part aloud. The prince’s ego doesn’t need stroking.

“Very well,” says Vawn. “Severin, tomorrow you’ll take Syth and Cordall to the border, and he’ll return to Belavrin to begin disseminating the images.”

The carpet ripples in assent. “If I’m to provide my best speed, I will need a good cleaning and brushing before the journey.”

“Oh, may I?” exclaims Jillia. “I’ve always wanted to get my hands on one of the beautiful carpets from Belavrin, and you are an especially fine one. And so much more intelligent than the carpets we have here in Tularesk.”

“A woman of taste,” purrs Severin. “You may brush me.”

“Follow me then. We’ll go to my quarters.” She hurries away, with the carpet undulating after her.

“Jillia keeps her quarters spotless,” says Inaya fondly. “I intend for the whole palace to be just as clean when I’m through with it.”

She heads out of the room as well, probably to resume her cleaning efforts.

“Why does she invest her time in this rat-hole?” Vawn says airily, taking a cigarette from his case and lighting it. “After all, if everything goes according to plan, the entire population of the kingdom will be migrating south, and the palace will be abandoned.”

“Maybe it’s not logically worthwhile,” I reply. “But it means something to her. Now that the Twins are gone, she can make this place what she always wanted it to be.”

Vawn, Cordall, and I fall silent for a moment. Maybe they’re thinking about the cremation ceremony we held for the Twin Lieges. Maybe they’re pondering the brevity and cruelty of life, especially for those who—

“Fuck, my nipples are still cold,” Vawn says. “Darling, I may need you to warm them with that pretty mouth.”

Apparently we were not, in fact, thinking about the same thing.

Cordall stifles a snicker, but when I shoot him a rebuking glance, he clears his throat and says, “We should discuss the rest of the plan. When I came to warn you, I crossed the border at the Central Gate with my artist’s license, claiming that I had a commission to fulfill. I should be able to get back in the same way.”

“Actually, there has been a slight change of plan,” I interject. “The commander from the West Gate sent us a message this morning. The bodies of Lord Kaenan and his guards were taken down recently. Apparently there was a conflict of some kind at the Belavrin border wall. We believe that gate may have changed hands from the Redemptive Authority to those loyal to the Crown. If that’s true, the West Gate is the safest way to get back into Belavrin. You may find allies there.”

“And if it’s still in the hands of the Redeemers, I can show my license and give the same excuse I would have given at the other gate.” Cordall nods. “Should they hesitate to let me in, I’ll simply explain that I witnessed the Naughty Prince’s death and I’m bringing proof of it to the Exemplar. Maybe they’ll give me the reward.”

“I hope so,” Vawn says. “It would be well deserved. And even if they don’t, I will reward you myself when all this is done. Your loyalty is precious to me.”

“Your patronage and your skill as an artificient have benefited my career more than I can say,” replies Cordall. “Tell me, did you get a chance to see the portraits I made for you at Anyssir Castle?”

Vawn hesitates for only a second before replying, in his warmest tone, “I did see them. And they were beautiful.”

Satisfied, Cordall picks up his canvases. “I’ll go and pack.”