Page 72 of What Fury Brings
He said nothing, and Olerra thought that would be the end of it. Then: “Do you swear it?”
He wouldn’t look at her, but the words felt vulnerable. As though he were used to people disappointing him every day.
“I swear it, Andrastus.”
“Swear on something that matters.”
It was a bit pushy, but when Olerra held most of the power, she could allow him this. She said, “I swear on the ashes of my mother. I will ensure your safe travel home as soon as I am declared crown princess.”
The tightness about his shoulders lessened. “I’m not saying that I won’t try to escape if the opportunity presents itself, but I will not make a mistake like the one I did with your cousin. I will not make you look bad again.”
Olerra believed him. Andrastus would give Glenaerys and her harem a wide berth after this.
And she would never expect him to stay if he thought he could get away.
They had an understanding, and that was enough for Olerra.
For now.
Olerra took Ydra’s advice.
The day after their arrival at the palace, Olerra ordered her carriage readied. Unlike the practical one she’d taken to show Andrastus the Pleasure Market and the pit, this one was more elaborate. This was to be their first official outing for the people, and Olerra wanted to do it in style. The people loved a good show.
The wide carriage was raised high off the ground on massive wheels and painted scarlet after the red obsidian the court was known for. There was a canopied top to shade them, held up by four thick poles, one in each corner. Instead of windows, the top half of the carriage was open to the outdoors. Andrastus needed to be as visible as possible, and it allowed for a nice breeze.
Her prince was done up much as he’d been all those weeks ago. Short skirt. Barefoot and bare-chested. Hands manacled behind his back. Nipple clamps in place. His hair was styled to perfection. At his temples were twin braids plaited against the scalp, keeping the hair away from his face. The rest of his hair was slicked back with cream. It shimmered golden in the sunlight. He was freshly shaven, and her onyx gleamed on his upper arm.
Gods, but he was a sight.
Andrastus was clearly displeased with his attire and the situation at large. He had to be prodded up the steps of the carriage. When he sat, he moved as far from her as possible.
She sighed but let him have his space.
A handful of soldiers rode on horseback, both in front of and behind the carriage. Olerra never experienced any trouble in the streets, but it was good to have more women she trusted on hand, just in case.
A herald rode at the head of the party, calling out every few blocks, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Olerra Corasene, and her intended, Prince Andrastus Ladicus of Brutus.”
People stopped in the streets. They waved, and Olerra tossed coins occasionally to the onlookers, who cheered and stooped to fill their pockets. Some women tossed flowers into the carriage. Others walked up to hand Olerra baked sweets and bread. She accepted the gifts with heartfelt thanks.
Meanwhile, Andrastus looked ill at ease.
“What’s the matter?” Olerra asked. “Is the heat getting to you?” His skin had healed from the initial burns of his arrival. He had a new dusting of freckles on his shoulders. They were adorable, not that she’d tell him.
“It’s not that,” he said irritably. “I don’t love having my hands tied behind my back.”
“Sorry, Prince, but I can’t risk you trying anything while we’re away from the security of the palace. Besides, it’s not like you’d rather be waving at them. Or accepting flowers and sweets. Doesn’t that go against some unspoken code of manliness for you Brutes?”
“There is no manliness code.”
“Isn’t there? No crying. No showing emotion. And any qualities that could be considered even slightly feminine ought to be stomped out.”
He looked away from her. Olerra sat back in her seat and sampled some freshly baked bread. “Would you like some?” she asked.
“I would prefer not to eat from your fingers in front of the masses.”
“Even if it would help my ruling?”
“You’re being needlessly annoying.”
