Kazia shrugs. “I just wanted to see what would happen.” Daromir must lose control of his expression then, because Kazia laughs and tosses his hair over his shoulder. “Don’t look so grim. The moth was already dead when I sealed it up. Vana would have had to actually try to hurt himself on it.”
Daromir isn’t sure whether he believes that. He’s only sure that strangling Kazia would make him feel better—for a few minutes at least. Daromir counts to ten before he commits murder. “That sort of prank has a way of backfiring, Your Highness.”
Kazia lays a hand on his chest. “Ooh, Sir Daromir. Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you. Take it as you like.”
“You’re so ungrateful.” Kazia wags his finger. “I was going to help Vana today and everything.”
Fuck. Vana just ripped Daromir’s fucking heart out, and Daromir is distracting himself by protecting him. “That blank scroll? How about you tell me your real message, and I’ll pass it along to him.”
Kazia twists a lock of lavender hair around his finger. He’s constantly moving, even while standing still. “Let’s strike a bargain. I’ll give you the message, and you’ll forgive me for the little prank with the moth.”
“Depends on the message,” Daromir says.
“You’re so difficult. But fine.” Kazia leans against the arm of the sofa, and a sudden stillness comes over him. Daromir has never seen Kazia so serious. “I overheard a certain conversation today. Petir Bernek hired a Hound.”
Daromir’s blood runs cold at those two names together.
Petir Bernek, with his unhinged grudge inherited from the late Irenka Miraz. And a Hound, from Fellrin’s unparalleled assassin guild.
“What else did you hear?” Daromir demands. “Is he targeting Vana?”
“I don’t know who he’s targeting, but I think my guess is as good as yours. The Hound’s name is Mirror, and he has illusion magic.”
By the time the last word leaves Kazia’s lips, Daromir is already yanking open the door. Kazia’s shout of, “You’re fucking welcome!” follows him down the hall.
Daromir can fight with Vana later. First, he has to make sure Vana is safe.
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Vana
“Are you sure this is all right, Your Highness?” Zuzana asks as they wait for the ambassador. The ramparts of the Opal Tower sweep like dark wings to either side, dwarfed by the greater peaks of Ostomar behind them. High above, Stanza is a dark speck in the cloud-gray sky. The rain has already fallen, and the storm travels south and west. The steps up to the wall were slick when Vana climbed them.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Vana asks. “This is my tower. I’m allowed on my own ramparts.”
Zuzana ignores Indra’s unsubtle elbow. “It’s just, you don’t usually leave your room when Daromir’s off duty. When he gets back and learns that we let you out, he might be pissed at us.”
Indra glares at her partner. “Don’t say it like His Highness is a pet rat.”
“If Daromir gets pissed off, he’s free to scold me.” Vana would welcome Daromir’s anger. Far better than the hurt Vana has already dealt out.
“Your Highness,” Indra says hesitantly. “Zu’s saying it like an idiot, and I don’t mean to pry. But you aren’t acting like yourself.”
On the contrary. Vana’s acting exactly like himself. Where does his ambition end and his cowardice begin? How long has it been since Vana knew himself? How dare he ask Daromir to love him as he is, when all Vana can offer is betrayal?
Ostomar City below is all black spires and smudges of orange and violet smoke. Blue and green glass set between black eaves. The forest beyond and the mountains to either side are all equally harsh and unfriendly and perfectly suited to the jagged pieces of Vana’s heart. The sun is low in the sky, but not yet setting.
“I’m getting married,” Vana says. The words leave his mouth far too easily.
“Oh, wow!” Zuzana blinks rapidly. “Congratulations, Your Highness!”
Vana’s self-pity screeches to a halt. He stares at her, stunned.
Zuzana’s smile falls until she appears equally stunned. “Wait. You don’t mean… you’re getting married to someoneelse?”
