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“He just says those things, he doesn’t mean them—”
Draven held up a hand. “I have eyes. I see the two of you together and I know we’re not like that. But I want you to know, it doesn’t matter. I will always uphold our vows. I will protect you, Arin. You have my heart, always. I love you.” He leaned back in the seat and sighed. “There, it’s said.”
He loved me. And I loved him too, but not as he wanted. “Draven, I’m sorry.”
“I know. Lark is…” He looked over the heads of the other customers at the bustling street beyond the eatery. “He’s Lark.”
“Well, yes, but… I don’t want to hold you back. You should find someone who makes you happy. Someone you can forge a happy life with.”
“I truly believed I had.”
Oh dear. We had worked well together, when it had been just Draven and I. But that was before I knew Lark’s truth, and that truth had changed everything. I couldn’t take that back. I couldn’t unlove Lark. Draven was the better man. Better than me. He’d saved me, saved us. He always tried to do the right thing; honest and strong. It was a wonder he tolerated Lark and I, when we’d both tangled ourselves up in lies and scheming.
“I understand my place and I will make peace with it, but I don’t want this to be our end. I’ll be your friend and ally, Arin, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course.”
He raised his cup. “To new beginnings.”
“Yes.” I clunked our cups together and attempted to smile. “New beginnings.” The singer didn’t sound so sweet now, and the wine had warmed, turning a little sour. Draven’s smile didn’t last, and mine had begun to crack. We’d eaten, we’d said all that needed to say. Draven and I, whatever we’d had—it was over. “Do you mind if I retire? I’m tired. It’s been a long few weeks.”
He nodded and cradled his wine in his fingers. “You know the way back?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine.”
“Good night, Arin.”
“G’night, Draven.” It hurt. Even if we weren’t meant to be together, we were friends, and I hadn’t meant to be cruel. His gaze tickled my back until I’d turned a street corner, and I strode back the way we’d wandered, through revelers, dancers, and the performers Lark would have delighted in seeing.
I passed a silk shop and made a note to revisit it to commission Lark’s purple and black courtly attire, then entered our cabin. All the rooms were dark but one—the bathroom at the top of the stairs. “Lark?”
“Back so soon?”
I climbed the stairs and stopped outside the bathroom door. I should tell him about Draven and I, let him know it was over. “Are you decent?”
“Never.”
I rolled my eyes and slumped a shoulder against the wall. “I spoke with Draven. I think he’ll be… all right. Eventually.”
He didn’t reply, and I didn’t hear any movement from inside. There wasn’t any sound of running water either. “Lark?”
“I’m thinking.”
Of course he was. But if the water wasn’t running, what was he doing in there? “About what?”
“About whether to invite you in.”
I chuckled. “Well, if you’re hesitating, that suggests no.”
“Enter, if you like. It’s not locked.”
I wasn’t sure I dared to. Yet, as I questioned myself, I lowered the handle and gave the door a small shove, opening it by a few inches, then a few more, unable to resist. A hammered tin bath dominated the bathroom. Lark was draped inside it, arms relaxed along its rolled edges, head resting back. He arched an eyebrow, then reached up and ruffled his hacked-at wet hair.
He’d cut his glorious black locks, reducing them to a messy mop. “What do you think?”
I clicked the door closed behind me, sealing us both inside the steam-dampened room. “In truth, I’ll miss its length.”
“Less to clutch.” He wet his hands and ran them back through his hair, slicking it back, and with its length gone, the angles of his face gained sharper edges, enhancing the dramatic angular features the Court of Pain brothers shared. With shorter hair, he resembled Razak more than I cared to dwell on.
