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Draven likely saw the fury building in me and stepped forward. “You’re surely not concerned that Arin could be any kind of threat to your reign?” He laughed. “He has no army, his people are scattered. He has nothing but a name. If a mere name frightens you, then I find myself wondering how worthy a King of War you are.”
Ogden’s head snapped up. “Bold words, Draven. Bold words, indeed.” He swept the quill across the paper and handed the proposal over. “It looks as though we’re having a wedding. Congratulations.” The king breathed in, expanding his huge chest. “We’ll need more wine.”
CHAPTER21
Lark
I dozedagainst the chair leg with my eyes open. Not really asleep, but far from awake. My body was present while my mind dallied elsewhere. A collar—or was it a noose—clung to my neck, its leash loose in Razak’s fingers.
Razak’s voice droned on and on. His council members stroked his ego, told him how prosperous the cities were, talked of commerce and production, where the people worked to eat in an inescapable cycle that served the higher lords, ladies, and the prince, lining their pockets with gold. They talked of a grand plan, of four crowns, and a key. All of it washed over me.
There was nothing to sing for here.
I missed the sweet scent of flowers in the air, and how the sea breeze filtered through my window’s drapes in Love’s palace. I missed the laughter and joy I’d summoned in Arin’s court. I missed the magic, the warmth, and despite all their mistakes, desires, and little lies they’d tried to spin to make their lives better, I missed the people.
But more than anything else, I missed the control.
“Arin’s alive?”
Arin’s name on Razak’s lips summoned me back from the waking dream. He tugged on my leash, dragging me against his leg. “It seems your pet prince survived the fire. Resilient, isn’t he? Aren’t you pleased?” he asked, his smile sharp with teeth.
I blinked. Was this Razak’s new game? Lift my hopes then dash them? I turned my face away.
He sighed and dropped the leash. “You are tiresome.” He tossed a note onto the table, where it lay, half unfolded. Black and red, the colors of War. An invite to a joining…
I saw two names on the paper: Prince Arin and Warlord Draven.
Arinwasalive? It wasn’t a lie.
“Where’s your spark?” Razak yanked on the leash again, choking off my air, and sneered at my spluttering. “Where’s your flare? You were more entertaining when you fought back.” He curled the leash around his fist. “Submissive doesn’t suit you.” He raised his fist.
Arin was alive…
Hope’s bright spark hadn’t burned out.
I’d thought him dead, I’d believed he’d burned because of me.
He was alive, and that changed… everything. My heart raced, my body burned, alive and here.
Razak’s fist swung down. I jerked away, grabbed the back of his neck, and slammed his face into the table. Something cracked, probably the table. I wasn’t lucky enough for it to be his nose. He screeched, and the council members erupted, lunging toward me.
I snatched the invite and read it—Draven and Arin were to be wed? Arin had gotten over our fling, then. But what had I expected? He’d tried to kill me. He’d used me as much as I’d used his court.But he was alive!
“You will pay!” Razak roared. He cupped his bleeding nose and swung wildly with his leash-holding fist, missing me by a mile. Blood ran into his sneer, around his teeth.Blood in the rain…Blood in the gutters as I sang for coin…
I hooked the leash around Razak’s neck, hauled him into my arms and hugged him close. He bucked, wheezed, clawed at his neck. He was stronger; I couldn’t hold him for long. Others rushed in, screaming, reaching.
“You want to fight,brother?” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll happily oblige—”
A vicious blow struck the back of my head. I slumped. The hot, heavy beat of unconsciousness pulled me down. Razak writhed out of my arms, spun, and spat blood. Warm wetness dashed my face. Reeling, dizzy, I had nowhere to go but down.
I dropped, gripped the table, clinging onto its edge. I had reason to cling on… reason to fight.
Arin lived, and the Prince of Love was a fool. Only fools fought battles they knew they couldn’t win. He’d fight, because he was fierce and determined.
I laughed.
He’d come for Razak. He’d come, and they’d think him weak, they’d underestimate him, my Prince of Flowers. The room spun. Razak closed in. Blood dribbled down the back of my neck. But I still clung on.
