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“All the more reason to report.” Something cold and hard dug into my lower back. A blade. “Imagine our beneficiary’s rage when he heard of the queen’s death from careless gossip and not his spy in the heart of their court.”
I didn’t have to imagine it. I’d felt that rage before, and tucked my mutilated hand out of sight under my folded arm.
“He has waited long enough. Tell me everything you have learned since our last meeting.”
“Here? It seems a little exposed—” The dagger’s point jabbed deeper. “Fine. The queen was killed, assailant unknown. I was a suspect, spent a night in the dungeon, but managed to escape that unfortunate turn of events and have the king admit to my innocence. You may tell our beneficiary exactly that.”
“He’s not interested in stroking your ego.”
“Hm, no, not my ego—”
“Get on with it.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the prince and spilled all the secrets I’d collected from the court. Misbehaving lords, families riddled with debt, the child born out of wedlock, the wrong man beaten, how a lady opened her legs for coin, and how another liked to ride her husband like a horse, reins and all. All the dirty little secrets from behind the scenes and between the sheets. I cherished each one, nurtured them, and gave them up to Danyal, when the time was right.
“Is that all?” Danyal grumbled, dissatisfied. “Tits and dicks?”
“Tits and dicks is what the Court of Love is good at.” The words had barely left my lips when the blade dug in deeper, piercing skin. I jerked away, but Danyal’s hand locked on my shoulder, hauling me back. “The king is mine!” I blurted. “I control him. Is that not enough?”
“It’s a start. And now the queen is out of play. How fortunate. What of the prince?”
Arin, ha. Every time Danyal asked, and every time I told him the same. The prince remained behind his door. “He continues to hide in his room.” I nodded toward the pyre. “This is the first time I’ve seen him.”
“Our beneficiary needs more. The prince is an unknown, and we both know how he dislikes unknowns.”
Beneficiary. As though saying his name might summon him beneath this very tree. I shuddered at the thought. “Then perhaps he should come to the Court of Love and speak with Arin himself.”
“Careful,Fool.” Danyal’s warm breath fluttered over my ear. “Or hewillcome, and sever your tongue as well as your finger.”
Prince Arin chose that moment to look up, right through a gap in the people. His silvery gaze locked on mine. At so far a distance, with a lawn, pathway, and many umbrellas between us, he couldn’t have heard my discussion, but his eyes narrowed, as though he knew how I conspired against him.
He likely saw the man standing in shadow close behind me. That razor-sharp mind of his would be working to riddle us out.
I wanted him tosee. Although it went against what I should want. That was it, exactly as he’d said. He and I, we were the same. Both of us locked in a race to figure the other out first. He knew I wasn’t just a fool, and I knew he was so much more than the Prince Behind a Door.
“Our beneficiary wants you to return,” Danyal said.
Ice encased my heart. “What?”
“Close your matters here. You are to return in three days.”
Three days… No. It wasn’t enough. Three months, three years. It would never be long enough. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t step back into darkness when I’d been so long in the light. “There’s more to discover, more secrets—”
“No, you’ve been given his instructions. It’s over. All of it. Come home.”
Arin’s gaze narrowed further. He’d seen my expression, seen the shock, then the horror. I flung a smile onto my face, but it was too late. Arin said something to his father, and without waiting for his reply, Arin swept through the crowd, white cloak bellowing—coming straight for me.
“Go, Danyal,” I whispered. “Now.”
“Three days,Lark.”
I glared over my shoulder, fixing the old man in my glare. He was riddled with scars, each one a gift from our beneficiary. Eight short slashes marked his cheek, one for every man he’d killed. I didn’t plan to be among them. “I can’t go back, it’s not done.”
“You don’t get a choice. Three days.” Danyal hurried down the slope, unhitched his horse from a fence rail, and swung into the saddle. His mount’s hooves still thumped the ground as Arin marched across the lawn and squared up to me under the tree. Mud sullied his cloak, staining all that pristine white. Such a terrible color to keep clean.
I bowed low. “Prince Arin.”
“Who was that?” He scanned the road, but Danyal was long gone.
