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Albus had fallen into stunned silence, his face screwed up in confusion. Without his guards, without power, he was a man wearing a pretty crown and nothing more.
“I am not my father,” Arin said.
Delight sparkled in Razak’s eyes. “Yes, I see that. You are the wild card. Lark failed to mentionyou.” Razak took a deep breath, and all around, the court breathed with him. Waiting.
“Well.” Razak sighed. “This has gone on long enough.” He marched back behind the table, past the royal seats to where the king stood, hopelessly ill-prepared.
Razak didn’t slow, didn’t miss a step. He drew a blade from his wrist bracers and slashed, opening the king’s throat in a great gush of blood. Albus groped at the wound, mouth gaping. Screams burst alive. Albus collapsed over the table. Blood ran, soaking into white. He clawed with bloody hands at the cloth and then slumped and dragged it with him, thumping out of sight to the floor.
“No,” Arin breathed. Defeat lived in that one, soft word.
Razak bent down, picked up Love’s golden crown, and spun it on his fingers.
The feasting hall erupted in chaos.
“Guards, lock the doors!” Razak boomed. “Nobody leaves!”
I heard the doors slam, heard the screaming. But the knife at my throat held me on my knees, unable to look away from Razak.
My secrets had done this, given him their weakness so he knew where to apply pressure. He’d had control of the court long before tonight.
Arin’s arm trembled, shaking the knife at my throat.
With his father slain, he had every reason to kill me. He’d want to do it. He had to do it. My death was all he had left.
Cries and whimpers rose up. People banged on doors, trying to hammer them down.
Razak climbed the king’s chair, stepped onto the table and kicked Albus’s fallen cup toward the crowd. He raised the crown in his hand and cast his gaze out, over my head, across the sea of terrified people.
Gradually, the panicked crowd calmed, waiting for Razak to speak, still hoping he’d let them go.
“How…” Arin muttered.
Razak crouched on the table and pointed the bloody dagger at me. “You hold thehowunder your blade, Arin. The man you call Lark was instrumental in your downfall. Yet, you have not killed him. I ask myself why… Could it be, you fell for his act?” He laughed. “The question you should be asking me, Prince, is not how butwhy, but as you neglected to ask, I shall not tell.Love endures!Love is weak, as evidenced here, by you and your cowardly king and all these foolish people clinging to all this finery as though it will keep them from drowning in moral and financial debt.” He straightened and raised his voice for the crowd to hear. “Do not fret. Your torment ends here.”
He scooped up a candlestick with its three lit candles. Bloodred wax spilled over his fingers, and delight flared in Razak’s eyes. He jumped from the table and sauntered toward us.
“Kill him, draw that blade across Lark’s pretty throat, and perhaps I will end this here, sparing you and your people their fate. How is that? Hm? Lark’s life for all these people. A fair trade, no?”
Arin trembled from fear, adrenaline, hate—whatever the cause, it shivered through me too. He had to do it, end it now, because whatever came next would be so much worse.
Razak laughed and turned away. “Love, indeed. Love is a pretty distraction. As Lark has shown.” He strode to a column and held the candles under the paper streamers. Flames bounded to life and raced up the paper, devouring the flowers and fabric in seconds. “I appreciate the effort, truly, Arin. I can see you mean well. But you’re not a killer, and we both know this court was lost long ago.”
Arin flicked the blade away from my neck, shoved me forward onto my hands, and raced for Razak.
“Don’t!” I cried, too late.
Arin slammed into Razak. They spilled against the table, grappling for the dagger and each other. Razak’s scattered candles rolled. Their flames licked at the tablecloth. Arin had him pinned, the dagger pointed down, toward Razak’s chest. But Razak had his own blade.
“No!”
Razak stabbed Arin’s side once, twice.
Arin stuttered, gasping in shock.
No, not Arin…
Razak kicked Arin back. He stumbled, touched his side, saw blood on his hand, and his legs buckled.
