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Arin handed the letter back. “I assume we’re not giving in to his demands.” He didn’t look at me—went to great pains to avoid looking at me.
And I knew what had been bothering him all this time. It was obvious. He’d known about the full moon deadlinebeforereading that letter, because he’d received a letter of his own.
“He’s trying to fracture you, tear you apart,” I said.
“Us,” Arin corrected. “Fractureus.You’re a part of this alliance.”
“Yes, of course,us.”
“I considered it,” Ogden admitted. “There is no love lost between you and I, Zayan. But War does not bow to anyone and certainly not that rat prince and his demands.”
“He can’t be trusted. It’s all lies,” Arin said. “To give into his demands would invite more of them. Any letters should be destroyed.”
Trust. It was in short supply lately. What had Arin’s letter said? To return me for peace?
Ogden growled his disdain. “We will march on Pain and end this within days.”
Except, Razak had a point. History dictated Ogden was not the king of War if he did not have its crown. His warriors would be reluctant to follow him without it. He had his fake, but he’d know the truth, and the fact his crown remained with Razak would weaken him.
“How ready are the warriors?” Arin asked Draven.
“They meet again in three days. They’ll be ready.”
I had to talk to Arin, ask him what was in his letter. Did Draven have one too? He hadn’t mentioned it, and considering his past betrayals, it seemed as though the warlord would admit to being coerced a second time, if only to save what remained of his friendship with Arin. Perhaps that was why Arin had tried to convince him his son was already dead. Maybe forewarn Draven, because Razak had told him the boy would suffer if I wasn’t returned?
We left the temple, and I followed Arin’s brisk pace across the bridge, down the steps, and into the gardens. “He sent you a letter,” I said, racing to catch up.
“Who?”
I laughed. “Come now, Arin. I know your lies.”
He marched on, down the paths winding through lush undergrowth. He told me he used to come here with Draven, to sit and talk, drink wine and plot.
“Then you deny it? You haven’t received a letter like the king’s?”
“If Razak had sent me a letter, you’d be the first to know.”
That didn’t ring true, but he was striding too fast for me to see his face. I caught his hand, tugged him back, and stepped in front of him, blocking his escape. “Tell me, darling. Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.”
He looked me in the eyes. And his were beautiful.
“There’s no letter, Lark,” he lied. “You have my word.”
It shouldn’t have hurt. I knew him capable of smooth deception; it was a large part of why he so fascinated me. Arin was a formidable adversary. I’d hoped, however, our adversarial days were over, and he’d trust me enough to tell me the truth. The only reason he wouldn’t, would be to protect me.
“Regardless, I suppose there will be one.” He caught both my hands, turning my hold into his. “We should all be prepared. Razak will say and do anything to have you back. He’ll bribe people in this court, like he did Draven. You need to be careful, Lark. Don’t trust anyone.”
I had more than enough mistrust to go around. “War’s people appeared to have warmed to me.” I’d even begun to entertain them some evenings, much to Ogden’s dismay.
“Let’s hope that welcome remains warm.” He hooked his arm in mine. “Come, Draven has invited me to train. He says I’m a natural with a blade.”
“Did he now?” I laughed.
“I can’t juggle them, not like you can.”
“I can handle many a dangerous thing.”
I trusted Arin, more than I trusted myself. If he was keeping secrets, then the secret was worth keeping. Mine certainly was.
