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Nothing about meeting Evred had gone according to Fox’s carefully thought out plan. Since childhood, he’d been prepared to meet the usurper with a proud scowl and bitter words, but when the time came, Inda had been standing there, hopeful expression and nervous posture, and Fox hadn’t the heart to tear down Evred in front of him.
(There was a tiny voice in the back of his head whispering about treason and birthright and justice, but Fox did his best to keep his expression even and his disdain for this false king hidden.)
Once Inda had left them alone – Fox watched him go with a pang, and was disarmed to see his own emotions reflected in Evred.
“Inda’s a remarkable man,” Evred said, voice softened with emotions that Fox himself had long since learned to hide and transform into useful tools.
Fox did not answer; Fox had nothing to say to this man who wore Fox’s birthright.
“He didn’t speak of you,” Evred continued, unbothered by Fox’s silence. “Not a word. I wonder if that reflects on the impact you’ve had on him.”
A challenge issued clumsily by one who thought himself clever. Fox reclined back in his chair, comfortable sprawling even against the harsh Marlovian style, and offered, “Perhaps the impact I had on him wasn’t fit for polite conversation.”
A classic move; implying what the opponent most feared without actually saying it. Fox watched, amused, as Evred’s complexion began to match his hair.
“Liar,” Evred hissed.
Fox shrugged.
“You never!” spat Evred, working himself up, tension in the line of his body as he leaned forward, hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly. “Admit it!”
“Worried?” Fox said lightly, standing to leave. He was done here. He couldn’t kill Evred while Inda was in the castle, wasn’t entirely sure he was in the position to usurp the throne without Inda’s backing, which he wasn’t sure he could get while Evred was still masquerading as a friend.
He wasn’t expecting violence. It was a mistake, one he shouldn’t have made. But suddenly Evred had him pinned to the wall, breath hot against Fox’s cheek as he hissed, “I want you to leave here immediately. Return to your family’s prison.”
Fox flexed his wrists and saw at least three ways to break Evred’s hold on him. He went with the fourth, tilting his head and brushing his mouth against Evred’s, feather-light. He was smirking by the time Evred realized what he’d done, and when his smirk disappeared under the crushing pressure of Evred’s kiss he thought, Now I control him.
Afterwards, Evred slept heavily, snores echoing through the chamber as Fox thoughtfully toyed with one of his blades. He held the point close to Evred’s back, close as a kiss, and thought how easy it would be to plant a knife in the usurper’s back.
Montredavan-Ans do not kill kings with a cowardly knife in the back, even if the king is a treasonous Montrei-Vayir. He brushed the blade against his lips before he replaced it and dressed.
He will go find Inda before Evred wakes.