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Would it? Why would anyone look at me and think me capable of saving them? “I suppose, but I… I can’t stay. Razak’s plot didn’t begin and end with destroying my court. He’s seeking some far larger power, and he has to be stopped.”
I told her everything. We talked into the morning hours; we talked about Lark’s true purpose, about suspecting his lies, about falling for him, and I told her how I’d somehow come to care for the deceiver in my court, despite knowing he was my enemy. I told her about Draven, the Court of War, the fact I was technically married, and I told her how we’d tried to locate Pain’s crown, to stop Razak in his tracks. And how we’d failed. It flew out of me, and when I was done, my voice was hoarse. Throat sore and heart aching, I sat back and blinked dry eyes at the rising sun through the inn’s dusty windows. So much had happened in just a few short months. My whole world had turned upside down. And I had nothing to show for it. Not even Lark.
Ellyn looked as exhausted as I felt. I waited her assessment. She’d blame me for all of it; I certainly did.
“Lark’s such a fool,” she sighed.
“Well yes, but so am I.”
“The difference is, you tried to do the right thing. He just—” She waved her hand. “—looked out for himself."
No, this had never been about Lark. He didn’t know how to look out for himself, believing he wasn’t worth the effort. “He did what he could. He’s not free, like we are. He never has been. Not even when he’d danced and played in my court. Having seen just a small piece of his world, it’s very different to what we’re used to.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Until Razak is stopped, there’s no use in rebuilding my court. He’ll burn it all down again. His mission to make himself a god must be stopped. Everything else will come after.”
“Everything else like… saving Lark?”
I sighed and dropped my head back. We’d talked all night, and my heart was raw and exposed. I wasn’t speaking as the Prince of Love, but as just me, a man somehow swept up in all of this. A man who had made mistakes. “I know what I should do, but what Iwantto do is hire the next passing coach to go back to him, no matter the cost, or the hopelessness. It would likely be suicide. But I think of him alone and I…” The weight of feeling pushed down had my voice creaking. It hurt, knowing he was hurting too, so far away.
“That’s because you’re a good man, Arin.” She reached across our table and took my hand.
“So is he, beneath all the—”
“Pantomime? Drama? Theatrics?”
“He’s actually very sweet, when you get to know the real him.”
Her right eyebrow arched. “When he’s not lying and manipulating us?” She chuckled. “I remember when I told him what you’d said, about him being a beautiful lie. He was told he was loved by a hundred different people every night. But he never believed it. When I said those words you’d spoken, I saw his eyes light up. It was as though I’d given him a gift, like he’d never been given a gift before. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.”
Beneath all Lark’s layers, he had a strong but vulnerable, fierce but damaged heart. That heart deserved to be loved. And now, with Lark alone in the Court of Pain, I feared he might unravel further, and I wasn’t there to stop him, to tell him he was loved, to show him there was hope, even when all around, the storm clouds drew in. “I need to get back to him.”
Ellyn squeezed my hand again and let go. “You have it bad.”
“Am I so obvious?”
“Definitely.” She raised her almost empty tankard, prompting me to lift mine. “To love. The best we can do is hope to survive it.”
“To love.” We clunked the tankards together. “And surviving.”
CHAPTER24
Arin
Ellynand I grew familiar during the next few days. Her company was a delight and took my mind off impending commitments I had no control over.
On the third night, as I helped Ellyn clear tables at the inn, a familiar voice grumbled from the front of the bar area. Its deep monotone lured me from the back, into the lounge.
Draven stood at the bar, wearing a black shirt over rusty red trousers and black boots. The sheathed daggers at his hips marked him as a warrior. There was no chance he’d have been robbed on the road. For the dirt and dust in the creases of his clothes and on his face, he’d been on the road a while.
“Draven!”
He jerked his head up. “Arin, you’re here. And… tending tables?”
“I’m helping out.” I set my armful of cups down and started toward the warlord. His smile grew, lighting up his darkly lined eyes. He pushed from the bar and wrapped me in his broad, unyielding arms. I hugged him close.
“It’s good to see you.” His voice rumbled, and its familiar resonance did more to soothe my thoughts than any mead.
