Page 56 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“Everyone loves me. I am undeniably loveable.”

“What you are is a pain in my arse.”

Bast waved a hand. “It’s the same thing.”

Ronan didn’t bother with a response, choosing instead to move toward the door of their room. He knew he didn’t have to share the cramped quarters with Bast anymore, thanks to the stipend he earned as a participant, but he preferred having a place to return that wasn’t associated with Erebos or the other contestants. He didn’t trust anyone with ties to the contest.

He didn’t much trust the manwhore he roomed with either, but Bast was far closer to earning it than anyone else in Glimmermere. He’d at least proven himself loyal thus far.

“You coming?”

“That depends... You sticking with the bloody shirt?”

“It’s a few spots, Bast. No one is going to notice.”

“Inoticed.”

“Of course you did.”

“What do you mean ‘of course’?”

Grabbing his cloak off the hook by the door, he tossed it over his shoulders and shot Sebastian a cheeky grin. “You’re clearly obsessed with me.”

Bast’s jaw dropped. “Pardonne moi?”

Ronan laughed, beyond pleased he’d finally managed to catch the other man off guard. “Come on, Sebastian. I’m buying.”

“Next time, lead with that.”

It wasfull dark by the time they reached the Scarlet Siren, the upscale tavern located clear on the other end of town from their boarding house. He and Sebastian exchanged knowing looks as a carriage rolled by, the matching pair of thoroughbreds as much a testament to the wealth of the people inside as the wheeled vehicle itself.

“I told you to change your shirt,” he hissed.

“I stand by my decision. If the Siren’s patrons are too prissy to handle a few drops of blood, they can go elsewhere.”

“You’re going to stand out like a pig with tits.”

“Excuse me?”

Bast let out a long-suffering sigh. “As someone who doesn’t belong.”

“But nursing sowsdohave tits.”

“Must you logic everything to death? It is an expression, Ronan.”

“If you’re going to insult me, at least do it well.”

Ronan was sure he was doing just that when Sebastian started grumbling in his native tongue. Unfortunately for him, the lyrical words lacked the unflattering edge of a proper putdown.

“A fancy bar is still a bar, Bast. I’m sure I’ll blend in just fine.”

“It’s your funeral.”

Rolling his eyes, Ronan pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Speaking of blending in,” he murmured, taking in the gleaming floors and chandeliers, “could you please at least try not to fuck the first person who breathes in your direction?”

“I mean, I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Bast...”

---