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Bendrik studied my torso, running his gaze over the many light scars, then came forward. His appraising gaze had an unwelcome hunger, the same kind of hunger I’d seen in the eyes of the men who had bought me on the street. He caught himself at the last moment, stopping short of touching me, and looked up at Malvina. “I’ll watch him, while you get word to Razak.”
He’d do more than watch. “I demand Justice,” I said, raising my voice so it filled the foyer.
Malvina laughed. “Demand all you want, Zayan. Your voice is worthless here.”
“I’m no longer invisible. I have a name. I’m Umair’s son, as much as its inconvenient for you. There are witnesses.” Several of which surrounded us now. “You can’t silence them all. Zayan exists, Razak acknowledged me as a half prince. Charge me, cuff me, but balance is all. Justice will be heard.”
Everything pointed toward Justice. Umair’s letters, Razak’s plan, the crown. I had to go there next, and I’d take a leaf out of Razak’s book and make Justice work for me. If I made enough fuss, Justice would come, my voice would be heard—balance was all—and they’d take me back to their court for judgement. Exactly where I needed to be.
And Arin would be far away from it all.
They could hurt me all they wanted, but they wouldn’t kill me. Whip me, cut me, fuck me. None of it could touch my heart, not when Arin carried it with him. With him safe, I was immune to pain.
“Very well,” Malvina agreed. “Take Zayan away until we hear from Razak. And Bendrik, make sure to lock him up tight. That one has a knack for escaping.”
I smirked up at Malvina. “I promise to behave.”
CHAPTER20
Lark
In the past,Bendrik had circled Razak like an annoying fly. Always a yes-man, eager to please the prince. Razak had once told me, while high on pennywort and feeling conversational, how Bendrik had believed they were friends.
Razak didn’t have friends, only tools and enemies.
As I’d been given over to Bendrik’s “care,” I’d need to get the measure of the man, and fast. He’d have a weakness. Everyone did.
His thoughts on me, as Zayan, ran along the same lines as everyone else’s. I was the inconvenient secret, now not-so-secret. I belonged to Razak, but that didn’t mean I was untouchable. As I was probably about to discover.
Considering Bendrik was a council member, his chambers—curiously on a sub-ground floor—were dressed like a king’s, overflowing with silks and velvets. A wood-burner throbbed waves of heat, making the large space stifling. Perhaps Bendrik had some War blood in him, hence the heat. Although it seemed unlikely, when the courts had always been divided.
“There’s no point in trying to escape,” Bendrik said, leading me and my guards through his chambers. “The world knows who you are now.”
“And who am I?” I asked, struggling with that question myself.
“You’re a criminal. Through here,” Bendrik told the guards, opening a second door into another vast space dominated by a huge half-sunken pool. The square pool had marble steps leading up to its edges. Lavender scented water steamed inside. The reason for Bendrick’s cleanliness fetish became clear as soon as I took in the rest of the antechamber. Chains hung from the far wall. A rack of weapons and tools gleamed. And on a mahogany table, an array of implements was displayed.
Ah, Bendrik wasthatmember of the council. The one who did their dirty work.
He nodded toward the far wall. The guards wordlessly escorted me to the chains, and holding my arms out, they clamped the shackles around my wrists.
“That will be all.” He gave each of the guards a gold coin, probably for their discretion. They left, and the door closed, sealing us in absolute silence. No windows, not here. Screams wouldn’t penetrate these walls.
I glimpsed the drain in the floor. People had died here, in this room. They’d bled and screamed and pleaded. If Bendrik sought the same from me, he was about to be disappointed.
Bendrik dipped his fingers into the bath, then shook excess water from his hand. “Would it surprise you to know you’ve featured in many a dream?”
“You’dbe surprised by how little surprises me.”
He looked over from the bath’s steps and huffed a soft laugh. “After all these years as his, I can hardly believe you’re here.”
I let my gaze linger on the table and its shining metal tools. Clearly, Bendrik liked his games. But his words unsettled me more than the sight of his tools. There was a fine line between obsession and madness—I walked it daily. Obsession, infatuation, I could handle, but madness was slippery and difficult to manipulate. As Arin had once said, madness could not be reasoned with. But it could be molded.
He approached and again admired my chest, with its speckled scars. I breathed slowly, despite my hammering heart.
Bendrik would have to enact his fantasies fast, before Razak learned he’d adopted me. My brother’s wrath when it came to his own personal toys was legendary. Razak did not share.
Bendrik reached out. His warm fingers skimmed my chest, scattering gooseflesh in their wake. This man and I were roughly the same age, but he’d been raised in Pain’s court, had his every whim met, been told he was above all those beneath him who worked to keep the court and its hungry cities thriving.
