“Without evidence, this is more a rumor than a secret.” Vana rises too. “Hearsay will hurt me, but it won’t destroy me. Do you want to be enemies, Kazia?”
Long lavender hair spills over Kazia’s shoulder as he tilts his head. From his throat down, he’s dressed in silk and dark leather. Beneath the fine fabrics, Kazia is fragile. No magic, no apparent training at arms. But he’s still dangerous, through the sheer power of his identity.
And his audacity.
“We’ve been enemies since the moment you joined this House.” Kazia lifts his chin imperiously, as if he weren’t a full head shorter than Vana. “I want your Sabora estate.”
Whatever Vana expected, it wasn’t that.
Sabora is Vana’s sanctuary in Draskora. The estate he’s reconstructed to his and Daromir’s liking. Where Vana can pretend he’s in control of his own destiny, not just a hunting hawk tethered to the king’s glove.
“What good would Sabora do you?” Vana asks. “Mother won’t let you move out.”
“I don’t want to live in Sabora. I just want to own it. You keep governing the southwest, and you can even keep living on the estate if you like.” Kazia smiles winningly, spreading his hands. “You can pay me rent!”
Of course. Kazia doesn’t want the responsibility of governance. He just wants to take something from Vana. Like those damned dragon statues. But this time, it’s something Vana actually values.
“I’ve clearly put you on the spot,” Vana says. “Take a week to figure out something you can actually use. Feel free to ask if you need ideas. I know you’re new to blackmailing people.”
“You’re good at this. I almost believed you. No, I’ll giveyoua week to decide whether you’re giving me Sabora as a Solstice gift or a birthday gift.” Kazia moves towards Aliza’s wine cabinet, then pauses. He spins back around so quickly, his long hair flies around him. “As a show of good faith, I’ll give you a tiny piece of information. Do you know where Daromir went in the city the other week?”
Vana doesn’t like hearing Daromir’s name on anybody else’s lips. He doesn’t like Kazia’s smile either. It’s far too genuine. “Daromir’s business is none of your concern.”
“It’s your concern, right? But I’m sure you already know Daromir met a woman in a tavern.” Kazia’s smile widens. “They spent an hour together in a private room.”
It’s absurd to be thrown so off-guard by a bratty teenage prince. Kazia lashes out so often, so indiscriminately, of course one strike will hit home.
“As I said, his business is none of your concern,” Vana says.
“I’m surprised you let him off his leash in the first place,” Kazia says. “Let’s visit next week, and you can tell me about Sabora.”
Vana isn’t quite sure what he says in response. He isn’t quite sure how he exits the room—but there’s no relief as Daromir falls into step next to him.
“The north tower,” Vana says. “I’ll see how the drasgard recruits are coming along.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Daromir says.
“After that, I’ll send someone to ask if the ambassador is free to tour the old galleries.”
Daromir doesn’t protest or question. They’re in public, where Vana is the prince and Daromir is his guard, and Daromir can’t drag Vana from his rigid shell and force him to relax.
Vana can’t face the safety and comfort of their private life yet. He needs an hour or two to compose himself. To let time and duty blunt the dagger between his ribs. He can’t fall apart about this. Because Daromir is the only one who can catch him—yet Daromir is the reason he hurts.
No, Vana can’t blame Daromir for this. It’s none of Vana’s business what Daromir does on his days off. Vana stole Daromir’s entire life, and the least he can do is relinquish the rare tattered scrap of it. He always assumed Daromir might use that time to see people. That doesn’t make the reality any easier to bear.
Assuming Kazia told the truth. But true or false, the idea is a mirror, its surface polished brutally bright. Vana looks into the glass and sees the truth in his own heart: what he feels for Daromir isn’t mere friendship or possessiveness. This isn’t just a physical or magical reaction.
Vana is deeply in love, and he can’t do anything about it. He would give up Sabora in a heartbeat, if he could only erase the thought of Daromir touching someone else.
?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Daromir
Daromir tolerates Vana’s distance for three days before he’s had enough. He intended to give his prince one week to get this out of his system. But after three days of barely touching or speaking behind closed doors, Vana is already a nervous wreck. The bloodbond has changed, but Vana’s needs haven’t. He needs comfort. Closeness. He needs Daromir. And Daromir isn’t about to let Vana keep tormenting himself.
So Daromir knocks on Vana’s office door to get his attention. “You’re done with that.”
