“It’s not usually…”

“This obvious?”

Coleman nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line.

He was right. Besides a few harsher lessons when Eithan was younger, Sulian typically had him punished in ways that weren’t outwardly noticeable to the court. As much as his doting father detested him, it reflected poorly to have his heir wander the grounds with a black eye.

“I knew what would happen if I returned without Vera. It’s nothing I didn’t ask for,” he said with a shrug. What he didn’t add was that he’d taken the punishment for his entire guard.

“And Gibson?”

Eithan’s eye twitched, but he otherwise kept his face neutral. “What about him?”

Coleman rubbed a hand across his jaw, hesitating. “Has his…sentence for aiding her escape been carried out?”

Eithan reached out and grasped the man’s shoulder, squeezing once. He may have trusted Gibson, but Coleman had worked closely with him for years. “He died with honor, Wes. I promise.”

Coleman nodded again, his face tight. Eithan hated this part of the game, the constant lying and hiding. Especially to Coleman, whom he’d known his entire life and considered a true friend.

He just wanted to be honest about his desires and plans and have his men still proudly follow him. But out of all of them, Gibson was the only one he could completely confide in, and the irony of that wasn’t lost on him.

Thankfully, it was about time he checked on the rogue guard anyway. They were due for a chat, and he could desperately use the distraction.

So, when they finally approached his rooms, he paused, nodding his head back down the hallway. “You’re dismissed for the afternoon.”

Coleman started, turning toward him. “Your Highness—”

“There’s no need for you to stand outside my door all day, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to rest and clean up, and then seek company much more stimulating than yourself,” he lied, giving an exaggerated wink. “So, unless you’d care to join?”

It wasn’t a complete lie. He was planning on seeking more stimulating company, just not the kind of stimulation Coleman would ever understand.

Coleman’s face puckered, but he chuckled, amusement replacing his hesitancy. “I must pass on the offer. I’m afraid I just don’t feel the same way about you, Your Highness.”

“Shame. I’ve been told a night with me is quite memorable.”

Coleman’s eyes darted around his face, no doubt counting the many colorful bruises now adorning it. “I once tripped and landed face first in horse shit. That, too, was quite memorable.”

An authentic laugh burst from Eithan’s chest, surprising them both. “Fair enough. I suppose I’ll just stick to the bath then.”

“You’ll summon me as soon as you need me?”

“Of course,” he said, tipping his head toward the hallway again. “Now, go. Enjoy some down time.”

He waited until Coleman rounded the corner, and then he spun away from his doors, heading in the opposite direction.

Moving Gibson to the palace infirmary had been foolhardy and risky, but having a healer tend to him and see Eithan regularly visit was imperative. He’d learned long ago that the key to a strong story was in the breadcrumbs one left along the way.