“You’re looking well,” said Guillame, smirking.
“I assume there’s a reason you’ve climbed in my window,” Remy said boredly, folding his arms over his chest. “Is it about her?”
“No,” said Guillame. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Sick of my leftovers?” Remy smiled.
“Entirely,” said Guillame darkly.
Remy laughed.
Guillame thought about punching him. “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? You had to bring an army—”
“I don’t want to talk about her either.” Remy’s tone was what passed for sharp with him.
Guillame simply surveyed him.
“Don’t tell me you’re here because you’re going to try to fight me for her or something as boorish as that. I left her. She and I are divorced. She’s all yours.”
“I don’t want her,” said Guillame. “At some point, after you’ve used a thing so much, it gets ruined.”
“She’s not a…” Remy’s nostrils flared. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“That’s how you think about her.” Guillame clenched his hands into fists. “Like something you own. Something you use.”
“I assure you, Dubois, you have no idea how or what I think about her.” Remy stalked closer to him. “If we’re going to fight, you should know I’m prepared to kill you.”
“I actually came back because I want to be your counselor again,” said Guillame.
“What?”
“I know. I’m doing a blazingly bad job of ingratiating myself to you,” said Guillame. “Maybe we could start over again. I’ll just skip back to my greeting, about how pleasing you look half dressed.”
Remy’s eyebrows raised, and he actually took a step back. He met Guillame’s gaze for a long moment, and then he crossed the room and took a robe from a hook next the bed. He pulled it over his body and cinched it closed.
“Well, that’s a pity,” said Guillame, shrugging.
“She did say you were like musqueteers in that way,” said Remy in a quiet voice.
“Rest assured, I’m not going to kill you.”
Remy’s lip curled. “Good to know.”
Guillame spread his hands. “So, where were we? Ah, yes, I was telling you about how I would like to be your counselor again. I understand you’re getting ready to invade Rzymn. You sought my advice in your battle strategy before, did you not? Couldn’t I be useful in that regard again?”
“Why did you leave Fleur?” said Remy.
Guillame wanted to tell him, because he knew Fleur didn’t want Remy to know, and he wanted to do anything that would hurt her. But he also knew that if he did, Remy would renew his obsession for Fleur, like she said. That was his heir in her belly. He’d want her and the child back under his control.
Besides, it would ruin Guillame’s plan for his own child. He couldn’t have that happening.
“She’s the queen of Islaigne,” said Guillame. “She doesn’t have to follow any rules anymore. She can bed as many men as she likes. I put up with you for a long time, but I find I can’t… at some point, a man wants to be the only one. I suspect you understand what I mean?”
Remy’s jaw twitched. “She moves on quickly, doesn’t she?”
“You know her appetites,” said Guillame.
Remy flinched as if he’d been struck. “How many men?” he whispered. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He shrugged. “I suppose she’s happy. It’s all she ever wanted, to get back there. And when I saw her, she did seem… different.”
“Yes, you two had quite the reunion.” Guillame couldn’t keep the ire out of his voice.
Remy looked up at him, seemingly cheered by his jealousy. “We did at that.” He smiled. “All right, fine, Dubois. You can be my counselor again. I have missed you, in fact.”
“Excellent,” said Guillame. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Shall I rouse the staff to prepare rooms for you?” said Remy. “It’s late, but you’ll need somewhere to sleep.”
“What about my old quarters? Have you given them to someone else?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Remy, crossing the room to open the door and striding into his sitting room. He went out into the antechamber and spoke to one of the guards, telling him to wake some servants to wait on Guillame. That done, he turned to Guillame. “I think there’s a bottle of whiskey somewhere in this room.” He looked around and then raised a finger. “Ah, yes.” He strode over to the fireplace and picked up a half-empty bottle from beside one of the chairs in front of it. He held it aloft. “We should toast your return.”
“I’d be honored,” said Guillame. So, Remy kept bottles of liquor in his sitting room, then? This was going to be easier than Guillame had thought.
* * *
Remy had been drinking with dinner, glass after glass of wine. Guillame had personally topped off his glass a great number of times. But even with all the fog of the wine, Remy was still surprised to see Coralie in his sitting room. “What is she doing here?”
“Oh, it’s like old times,” said Guillame. “All of us together again. I thought we could reminisce together, the three of us. Remember the time you stabbed your brother, her husband, in the eye?”
Remy gave him a dark look. “Hardly a happy memory.”
“It was your first day as king,” said Coralie. “That was all you ever wanted, wasn’t it?”
Remy turned to Guillame. “Why would you invite her here? She raped you.”
Coralie shot to her feet. “I did not.”
Guillame cleared his throat. “Look, we’ve all done awful things to each other. You broke her heart. She tried to get me executed. If we all sat down and enumerated all the reasons we had to hate each other, we’d be here all night. But, honestly, Remy, she’s not wrong about your wanting to be king. She understands you. Who else knows you so well, hmm?”
Remy blinked at him.
Guillame thrust a glass of wine at him. “Have a drink. Sit down. Stop thinking so much.”
Coralie was still standing. “Listen, what happened, Guillame, it was not what he said. It wasn’t.”
“You accused me of raping you, Coralie,” said Remy, sitting down in a chair beside the fireplace, gulping at his wine. “The difference is that I didn’t do it, and you did.”
“Please,” said Guillame. “The past is the past. Coralie is sorry. Aren’t you?”
She nodded, sitting down in her seat. She looked abashed.
“So, you forgive her?” said Remy, eyeing Guillame over his wine glass. “Just like that?”
“What does it matter?” said Guillame tersely. “I have no wish to talk of this.”
“Really, let’s not,” said Coralie.
Remy laughed.
“You must have some fond memories of Coralie,” said Guillame.
“Yes,” said Coralie. “There were times we had together that were good. You remember.”
“No,” muttered Remy. “Everything with you was an act.”
“That’s not true,” said Coralie. “You told me on the ship when we were boarded by those pirates, Guillame’s father’s men, that you had some feelings for me.”
“I think I said I didn’t hate you or something,” said Remy.
“More wine?” said Guillame, getting up to fill Remy’s glass.
“Thank you,” said Remy, holding the glass aloft. “But really, we should move onto something stronger. I can call for whiskey.”
“No need,” said Guillame, producing a full bottle.
Remy smiled at him. “Excellent.” He downed his wine in two swallows and held out his hand for the bottle of whiskey.
“Shouldn’t we pour glasses?” said Guillame.
Remy snatched it from him. “You do what you like.” He put the bottle to his mouth, took a long swallow, shuddered, handed it back.
Guillame took a smaller drink, though he made it look as though he’d guzzled a good bi
t, and then handed the bottle to Coralie.
She just peered at it. She had some idea that too much strong drink would be detrimental to the baby. It was a belief in Briganne, where she was from, apparently.
“You have to admit Coralie is attractive,” said Guillame.
Remy narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you saying? Are you saying you were with her willingly?”
“Can we please stop talking about what happened between Coralie and me?” said Guillame.
Remy shook his head at him. “I know what you’re up to.”
Guillame felt a stab of concern. “You do?”
Remy reached out for the whiskey and Coralie handed it over. Remy took another long swig. When he spoke, his words were slurred. “You think that if I get very drunk, and if there’s a woman involved, there’s some sort of chance with you and me, don’t you?”
Guillame’s lips parted. “No.”
Remy laughed.
“Truly, Your Majesty, I would never presume such a thing,” said Guillame, who felt his heart picking up speed.
Remy handed him the bottle of whiskey. “Well, it’s never going to happen.”
“Of course not,” said Guillame, taking a pull from the whiskey bottle, a significantly larger pull than he’d intended. He coughed, setting the bottle down on a table.
Remy reached over and snagged the bottle and took another drink. He shut his eyes and chuckled to himself. “Are you planning on coming with me while I conquer the world, Dubois? Will you pitch your tent close to mine in the encampments in case I have need of you in the night?”
Guillame held out his hand for the whiskey bottle. “You’re making fun of me, and I don’t deserve it.”
Remy took another drink of whiskey before handing the bottle back. He laughed again, and his movements were exaggerated. He was quite drunk.
Guillame took a drink, and the room seemed to spin a little. He set it down again, harder than he should have. Don’t let him get to you, Guillame, he told himself. He’s only drunk. He likely won’t even remember having said this in the morning.
Remy turned his dark eyes on Coralie. “Did he tell you this was the plan before he brought you here? What do you get out of it?”
Coralie shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If we’re all going to bed together, someone should start removing their clothes,” said Remy. “And no offense, Dubois, but I’d rather it be Coralie.”
Coralie shrank into herself.
Remy’s laughter was jeering. “We’ve both bedded you, Coralie. Don’t be shy.”
“You’re being horrible,” she whispered.
“Coralie,” snapped Guillame. This was actually going well. She needed to play along.
Coralie swallowed.
Remy drank more whiskey, gazing at her with a slack, drunken expression. “I’m waiting. Maybe I could order you to do it? I’m the king, right? Coralie, don’t be shy. Show us what’s under your blouse. I command you.”
Coralie’s hands were shaking. She glanced at Guillame, looking horrified.
Guillame nodded.
Coralie reached up and started to work at her buttons.
Remy got out of his seat, sloshing whiskey out of the bottle, knocking over his chair. With the hand not holding the whiskey bottle, he reached out and touched her hands. “Stop,” he breathed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “If you want me to—”
“I don’t,” he said. “I wanted to make you uncomfortable. Please, remain clothed. We’ll all remain clothed.” He staggered back over to his chair, but it had fallen over. He gazed at it forlornly.
Guillame got up and righted it.
Remy sank down into it. He held up the whiskey bottle. “I think I’ve had enough of this.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” said Guillame. “I’ll have another drink if you do.”
Remy chuckled softly. “Even if I agreed to something now, Dubois, it would be coerced. Is that the sort of man you are?”
Guillame took the whiskey bottle and made a show of taking a long drink, but in fact, he stopped up the bottle with his tongue, drinking nothing. He handed the bottle back. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you, Your Majesty.”
Remy groped for the bottle, obviously too drunk to even hold it up.
Guillame put the neck of it into his hands. “One more drink, my king,” he said in a low voice.
Remy groaned. “Why not? What does it matter anymore, anyway? What does anything matter?” He took the drink, and then he wavered in his chair. He scooted down into it, laughing to himself.
Guillame took the whiskey bottle from him. “You do find Coralie attractive, don’t you?” he murmured.
“No,” said Remy. “Blazing Fleur. She ruined me. I don’t see how she can be so indiscriminate in taking men to bed. I don’t want anyone but her. Nothing compares to Fleur.” His eyes slid closed. He moaned.
“Remy,” said Guillame.
Remy kept his eyes closed. “You will address me with respect,” he slurred.
Guillame waited.
Remy didn’t say anything else. He relaxed into the chair. A moment later, he was snoring.
Guillame pushed on his shoulder.
Remy made a noise, but he didn’t wake.
Guillame turned to Coralie. “Well. Let’s get his clothes off and get him into bed, then.”
She was pale. “I don’t think this is going to work, Guillame. He’s never going to believe he bedded me. He hates me.”
“Hate sex is a thing,” said Guillame, shrugging. “It’ll work. Trust me.”
* * *
Guillame awoke the next morning with a headache. He’d had more whiskey than he’d meant to have. The fact that his valet was yelling at him to get out of bed was only making his head pound worse.
“The king,” said his valet. “To see you. In your sitting room.”
Guillame sat up straight. “He’s awake. Already?”
“I’ll help you dress,” said the valet.
Guillame staggered out into the sitting room a few moments later.
Remy was leaning against the fireplace, dark circles under his eyes. He was dressed, his bow tied tight at his neck, his hair pulled into a sleek ponytail at the nape of his neck. He bared his teeth at Guillame.
Guillame turned to his valet. “Coffee. We need coffee. And something to eat. Muffins or pastries or something bread-like. Please?”
The valet nodded, bowing. “Of course, sir.” He left the room.
“I’m trying to decide whether I want to have you hung or if I’m just going to run you through myself,” said Remy.
“You don’t seem to be wearing any weapons at the moment,” said Guillame.
“You’re despicable,” said Remy.
“Well, coming from you, that’s saying something.” Guillame went and sat down in a chair, rubbing his temples. “What is it that I’ve done to rouse your anger, my king?”
Remy sneered at him. “I told you, in this very room, when you were recovering from what Coralie did to you, that I’d been dosed with cainlach myself by my brother. He paid a woman to do wretched, painful things to me while I was incapacitated. It was my first time.”
Guillame swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“You knew that, and yet you attempted to make me believe that I’d been… again. At least you didn’t use cainlach. I suppose I should give you that much credit. But even so, it’s the same thing. What is wrong with you, Dubois?”
“Oh, many, many things,” said Guillame. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did something happen to you last night? I did help you to bed when I left your chambers, but I wouldn’t know anything else.”
Remy laughed. “I’m not stupid, Dubois.”
“No one said that you were.”
“I would never bed Coralie. You could never convince me that happened. Waking up in bed with her, however, was frankly traumatic. A low blo
w. I wouldn’t have expected it from you.”
“Are we friends, then, Remy? Do we take care of each other? Is that the nature of our relationship?”
“Did you enjoy your peep under my trousers while you were tucking me into bed?” said Remy.
Guillame shrugged. “As I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You were clothed when I put you in bed. If something happened between you and Coralie, then—”
“She’s with child,” said Remy. “It’s got to be that. It’s your child. You want me to think I’m responsible. You want me to put your bastard on my throne.”
Guillame licked his lips. He was so stunned that Remy had put it all together so easily that he didn’t say anything at all.
Remy’s shoulders slumped. “Well, your silence is response enough. It’s true, then. I was concerned maybe I did bed her.”
“You what?” Guillame sat up straight.
The valet returned with a large tray of all manner of pastries and breads. There was butter and cheese spreads and jams. And coffee. Steaming, lovely coffee with milk and sugar.
Guillame took the coffee gratefully and thanked the valet. “That’ll be all,” he said, dismissing the man. He sipped his coffee and his mind churned.
Remy ripped into one of the pastries, swallowing it down with coffee. “Blazes, I drank too much last night.”
“Listen,” said Guillame, “I was wrong to try to trick you. But this proposition, it has advantages for you.”
“What?” Remy guffawed. “Are you out of your mind? What advantage is there to me in having your child as my heir?”
“You said something last night about being ruined for all women,” said Guillame. “Was that true, or was it just the whiskey talking?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“What are the odds of your actually getting an heir on some fief’s daughter?” said Guillame. “How drunk would you have to be to bed someone?”
Remy grimaced. “That doesn’t mean… Coralie… I’d have to marry her.”
“Exactly,” said Guillame. “Think what Fleur would think when she found that out. When she discovered that you married Coralie of all people, and that Coralie was bearing your child?”
Throne Shaker (The Clash and the Heat Book 3) Page 8
