A Brother's Price

Alissa as Eldest.”
    With a laugh, Kij said her good-bye and went out the door. Jerin lay with his eyes closed and forced his breathing to stay deep.
    The duchy of Avonar lay upriver of Hera’s Step. Kij said they were through the last lock, so they were now above the great waterfall. He recalled the small town that supplied boats with coal, food, and entertainment while they waited their turn to move through the locks. The town was crowded with ship crews and passengers, people he could hide among and perhaps find aid from. While there were towns north of the falls, he would be a lone stranger in a place loyal to the Porters.
    Now was the ideal time to escape. If he was to free himself, though, he needed to get rid of Meza. Considering Kij’s orders, asking for food and water might force Meza to fetch it herself. If not, she’d at least undo his hands so he could eat.
    He stirred then, making a show of waking and stretching, blinking with sleep befuddlement. Did Meza believe his act? She glanced up from her paperwork, fingers ink-stained, looking more an accountant than a murderous smuggler. Cira, on the other hand, glancing over the rim of the footboard, had murder in her eyes. Was that look of anger for him, for falling asleep, or just anger at the situation?
    Trying to ignore the hate on Cira’s face, he whined, “I’m hungry, and thirsty, and I have to wee-wee.”
    “I’m not surprised,” Meza said, methodically cleaning her pens and putting the desk aright before standing. “You’ve been asleep for hours.”
    He felt a flare of guilt at her words. He should have tried to escape hours ago, gotten free and back to his wives. Every minute he spent away from them, the less likely he could ever return to them.
    Meza came and unshackled his wrists. Holding firmly to his elbow, she steered him to the corner where there was a chamber pot built into a dresser to make an indoor privy. She kept hold of him while he relieved himself.
    though she averted her eyes. He chanced much, moving his stash pouch from his pocket to his loosely gathered sleeve.
    Afterward, Meza led him back and handcuffed him to the bed again. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”
    Even as she shut the door behind her, he slipped the pouch out, fingered through it, and pulled the lockpick free. From the foot of the bed, Cira’s eyes went large.
    Minutes later, when he undid her gag, she whispered fiercely, “You have to be the slipperiest prince consort in history! I saw them take that from you. How did you get it back?”
    “I picked Meza’s pocket,” he whispered, tempted to gag her again. “I wanted to be free of them before they decided that they wanted to be serviced.”
    “What about your word of honor?”
    “I lied.” Jerin struggled with her handcuff. “You meet people at their level, or the liars and murderers of this world will drag you under.”
    Cira smothered a laugh. “I can’t believe you! Did Queen Mother Elder really agree for you to marry her daughters?”
    “I don’t see how being raped would be preferable to lying.”
    The cuffs came undone and she rose, rubbing her wrists.
    “What should we do now?” he started to ask, but she caught him and kissed him. Her mouth was warm and sweet, and he realized that he was half in love with her.
    “Why did you do that?” To his shame, he wanted to do it again.
    “You’re teaching me never to give up.”
    He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing. He pulled himself free, needing to put distance between them before he gave in to kissing her again. “So what do we do?”
    “Get in the bed,” she said with a grin.
    His heart leaped and a flame of arousal went through him. “What?”
    “Pretend like you’re still handcuffed. I will too.” She glanced about, then picked up a heavy stone paperweight, and gave him an evil grin.
    He sat down, put his hands back above his head, and tried to be calm. Cira settled at the foot of the bed, her eyes glittering with contained excitement. Minutes stretched out until they seemed unbearable. Then finally Meza stepped through the door.
    She carried a glass of lemonade and a bowl of biscuits covered with sausage gravy. Jerin’s stomach growled at the smell. In tense silence, he and Cira watched as Meza came across the room, unaware of the danger to her, intent on not spilling the nearly full bowl. As she set the food on the table beside the bed, Cira rose, drawing back the paperweight.
    Meza must have caught the motion