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Draven’s face softened and he lowered his hands. “Through the door behind me, there’s a private washroom. Use it. I’ll be back with some clothes that won’t get you arrested.”
“It’s infuriating when he’s right,” Lark said after Draven had left. He ventured into the washroom—a small room, fully tiled, with pipes that fed heated water into a perforated metal head that let the water fall like rain.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched Lark study the faucets and pipes. “War like their contraptions. Try it, it’s good.” I leaned past him, twisted the faucets, and scooted out of the way of the rainlike water falling from above.
Lark’s gaze turned sly, and without waiting for me to leave, he removed the shirt he’d moments ago tugged on.
Of course he’d strip with me in the room, hoping to spark a reaction.
I left the washroom but stayed nearby, holding the door open a crack. He would be weak from his ordeal; I needed to stay close.
“How is it?” I called.
“Hm, good…”
I’d used it, it was good. We didn’t have shower rooms at my court, just bathing houses, but if I ever returned home and built something from its rubble, I’d make sure to have them installed.
Water splashed, drawing my gaze through the gap in the door. Steam rolled, but I saw Lark through the mist, one arm braced against the wall, his head bowed. Water cascaded through his hair, painting it against his pale shoulders and down his naked back. I looked to check he wasn’t in any way wounded or about to collapse. No other reason.
His body was a marvel, somehow lithe but strong with it. He’d definitely lost weight, and his leanness defined his muscles. He was made for dancing. I knew, because I’d had my hands on that body, stroking up his back. I’d felt him quiver under my touch, and I’d moaned for more.
It was wrong to watch him while he thought he was alone, especially as he was recovering.
But even knowing it was wrong, I couldn’t turn my gaze away for long. Water spilled over the curves of his ass and ran in rivulets down his legs. The steam obscured much, but I caught glimpses, and my memory filled in enough to want to join him. I’d sweep his wet hair back from his neck and kiss him there. Softly, so he knew he was safe. I’d make the hurt go away and erase everything done to him. I’d erase all those scars, if I could.
Sighing hard, I shoved from the wall and crossed the room to the balcony. Watching him was self-inflicted torture. Nothing could come of it. I still didn’t know if he cared at all for me, or if it had been one of his performances. And now was not the time to have my heart get in the way.
We had a crown to find and Justice to stop from taking Razak away. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still playing Razak’s game, even now. And if he was removed from War, the crown’s whereabouts might never be discovered.
CHAPTER36
Lark
I wasout of my depth, with no cards left up my sleeves to play.
And now Justice was trying to move Razak. That couldn’t happen, not until we knew where he’d hidden War’s crown.
But despite Draven’s most charming smile, and Arin’s sickening politeness, the representative of Justice, a woman named Justice Sonya, refused to change their plans.
Razak was due to be wagoned out by sundown.
“We need to talk with Razak,” Arin said.
We’d gathered in a shadowy corner of the palace, where the heat didn’t reach. Palms swayed in a nearby garden. Small waterfalls trickled into larger pools. I ground my teeth, tasting sand.
None of this felt right.
I’d woken in a dream… Because in the real world, Razak didn’t ever get caught, and Arin wasn’t nice, and Draven… well, Draven was typically Draven, so there was that. But none of itfeltright. I was missing something, something obvious.
The crown…
We had to find the crown.
“He hasn’t left with it. It’s here somewhere,” I thought aloud.
“Not in his room,” Draven said. “I had it searched.”
I snorted. “As though he’s just going to toss a crown in his traveling case where anyone can find it.”
