Chapter 328 - Did he like him?

Chapter 328: Chapter 328 - Did he like him?

Ryan had been hunting since he was twelve.

He knew the rhythm of it well enough by now. The first hour was always noise. Horses crashing through undergrowth, nobles shouting too loudly, servants trailing behind with spare quivers and water. Everyone wanted to be seen. Everyone wanted the early kill.

It usually settled after that.

Today it did not.

Because His First Highness had decided to ride beside him.

The Crown Prince was, in most respects, a decent enough man. Good rider. Decent shot. Generous with his praise when he won and gracious when he lost, which was rarer among princes than most people assumed.

There was, however, one thing about him that had always irritated Ryan.

He talked. Constantly.

"It’s a good year for it," the Crown Prince said, steering his horse closer. "Warm enough that the game will be moving, cool enough that we won’t sweat through our robes before noon."

"Mm."

"Zhao’s already taken two deer, I hear. He always starts fast."

"Mm."

"Second Brother brought a boar down yesterday during practice. Boasted about it for an hour."

Ryan offered another vague sound of agreement and kept his eyes on the tree line.

It worked for a while. The Crown Prince seemed content to fill the silence himself, discussing the odds, the nobles who had bet on him, the new falcon some minister had gifted the Emperor. Ryan listened with half an ear and let the rest of his attention settle into the familiar quiet of the forest.

Then the Crown Prince cleared his throat.

"Speaking of wives," he said.

Ryan glanced over.

The man was grinning.

"Everyone’s been talking about yours, you know. The entire court, honestly. Half of them were already convinced you’d never marry at all, and then you go and bring home an enemy prince and put him in the wife’s seat."

"It was arranged."

"Arranged." The Crown Prince laughed. "That’s what you always say. Arranged. As if anyone arranges a marriage like that and doesn’t enjoy the joke."

Ryan didn’t answer.

"Honestly, cousin, you have to admit it’s funny." The Crown Prince leaned over in his saddle, lowering his voice to the tone men used when they were about to be crude. "A man. In the women’s tent. Embroidering. Drinking tea with the ladies.."

"He’s sitting in the women’s tent being stared at by a hundred noblewomen." The Crown Prince shook his head. "I don’t envy you. Must be exhausting. Though—"

He paused.

Ryan already didn’t like the pause.

"—if he looks anything like the way he did this morning, sitting there with his fan and his robes, I’d say you got the better end of it."

Ryan turned his head.

The Crown Prince’s grin widened. "I saw him on my way in. Golden little thing. Pretty face. Long lashes. And that look he had, like he couldn’t be bothered with any of it." He laughed again, louder this time. "Honestly, cousin, if you ever get tired of him, send him my way. I’d fuck that too."

Ryan’s fingers tightened on the reins.

He did not say anything immediately.

That was the problem. He should have. He should have spoken up right then and corrected the man, but he had hesitated, and now the Crown Prince had already moved on to another topic, and Ryan was left sitting in his saddle with a strange, unfamiliar heat crawling up the back of his neck.

I’d fuck that too.

Not wrong. Technically not wrong.

But somehow hearing it out loud, in the Crown Prince’s lazy, offhand way, felt like an insult.

Ryan had thought of Eric first. He had seen Eric first, this morning, sitting beneath the canopy with his fan and his grapes and his lazy half-lidded expression. Ryan had noticed the way the sunlight hit him. Ryan had smiled at him across the field.

And now the Crown Prince was saying it out loud like it was some cheap observation anyone could have made.

Like Eric was the pretty wife Ryan had accidentally acquired and everyone else was welcome to look.

But then the Crown Prince had to add one more thing.

"You know," he said, almost to himself, "he’s got a mouth on him, doesn’t he? I saw him waving at the Third Princess earlier. She looked like she wanted to throw her fan at him." He grinned. "I like that. Spirit. Makes a man wonder what else he’d do with his mouth if you—"

"What about his mouth." Ryan said it flatly.

The Crown Prince stared at him for a beat.

Then burst out laughing.

"Cousin. Cousin. Are you serious right now? You’re going to make me explain it?"

"A mouth like that on a wife is a blessing. And I was wondering what it would look like when he used it for something other than eating grapes. You know what I mean?"

Ryan gripped his horse tightly that it started to

Eric did have a nice mouth. A very nice mouth. A mouth that curved in ways Ryan had spent an inappropriate amount of time thinking about.

But hearing the crown prince describe him as such...

Ryan did not like that.

He did not like it at all.

The horn sounded.

Ryan’s horse surged forward before the sound had finished.

He heard the Crown Prince yell something behind him, surprised, but Ryan did not slow down.

The hunt had begun.

The forest swallowed them.

Ryan moved through it the way he always did. Fast, low, silent, guided more by instinct than sight. His horse knew the terrain well enough that Ryan could give it its head and keep his eyes on the ground, watching for tracks, for disturbed leaves, for the small signs that most nobles never learned to read.

He did not bother with the usual show.

Normally Ryan did.

Normally Ryan let the Crown Prince have his fun. It was an unspoken arrangement they had carried for years. Ryan was faster. Ryan was a better shot. Ryan could have taken the prize every season since he was twenty, and both of them knew it.

But the Crown Prince was the Crown Prince.

So every year, Ryan would pull his shot slightly wide. He would take one less deer than he could. He would let the Crown Prince come in first by just enough that no one questioned it, and the Crown Prince would accept his victory with a gracious nod and a small smile, and both of them would pretend the outcome had ever been in doubt.

Today Ryan did not intend to pull anything.

He took the first deer cleanly. Between the eyes, from horseback, at full gallop. The shot was so smooth that the servant riding behind him actually flinched.

The second deer went down faster.

The foxes came next. Two of them, in quick succession, from a distance that made even Ryan’s own bowstring twang with satisfaction.

He could hear the Crown Prince somewhere behind him, working harder than usual to keep up.

Ryan did not slow down until the sun had climbed high and his quiver was noticeably lighter. He brought his horse to a stream to let it drink, dismounted, and was just reaching for his waterskin when the Crown Prince finally caught up.

The man was breathing hard. His horse was lathered. He slid off with a grunt and stalked over, robes dirtied, expression caught somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"You’re in a mood."

"Nothing as such."

"You’re a terrible liar, cousin."

Ryan drank.

The Crown Prince watched him for a moment, then laughed again, quieter this time.

"It was the wife thing, wasn’t it."

Ryan did not answer.

"Of course it was." The Crown Prince shook his head. "Fine. Fine. I’ll leave him alone. Just tell me one thing—"

Ryan looked at him.

"—do you actually like him? Or is this just you being possessive over the position?"

Ryan considered the question.

He considered it honestly.

Did he like Eric?

Yes.