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“Two days.”
“Two days and War is no more? What else did I miss? What of Justice?”
“All the courts are disbanded. There was nothing left of Justice and Love, regardless. And all the courtly origins were problematic, now we know we were destined to fight, forever keeping the people and its crowns apart. You have woken in a new shatterlands, Lark. One with no courts, and no borders. One you helped bring about.” There was a great deal more to it than that, but he didn’t yet need to know how War’s warriors had demanded Ogden step down or they’d revolt. At least the days of giving children to the sand were gone.
“All I did was play my part, and the violin.”
He struggled upright, and this time I let him. Stopping him from doing anything he had his heart and mind set on was a pointless task. He’d always find a way. And playing the violin while lying wasn’t all he’d done. To get close again to Razak, he’d have done far more. I didn’t want to think on the parts of him he must have surrendered to Razak, but none of them would have been good. Perhaps, one day, he’d tell me. But not today.
“You did so much more, and you know it.”
He rubbed the base of his missing fingers, as he often did when thinking of Razak. “Just so I know if I have to run, am I likely to be arrested?”
“No. Draven and I explained your behavior had been part of a great plan.”
“And Razak’s death?” he asked carefully.
“Ogden and Noemi enquired. I told them he’d been dealt with. Nobody has asked for details.”
His dark eyes widened. “Did you cut him down?” He swallowed.
“No.”
Razak still hung in that tree, and he would until his flesh had rotted from its bones. As he deserved.
“The power’s gone.” He bowed his head, then lifted his gaze, his eyes full of hope. “I don’t feel it. And you shattered the crowns. It’s truly over?”
“I think so, yes. There are logistical issues with the collapse of the courts—”
“Such as?”
“They’re not your concern right now.” I pinched his chin and made him look into my eyes. His lashes fluttered, but those eyes of his were as brilliant as always. When I thought of him writhing moments before we’d destroyed the crowns, it hurt as though that pain were my own. And all the terrible things he’d done— He’d blame himself for it all. If only he’d listen if I told him he was brilliant and that he was my hero and the hero of the shatterlands. If I said the words, he’d laugh and tell me no fool could be a hero.
He lunged and planted a quick kiss on my lips, then hissed and pulled back. “Ouch.”
“Rest.” I laughed.
“I’ve been stuck with enough knives over the years to know this was a mere scratch.”
Razak had tried to gut him, to ensure they’d die together. “It’s rather more than a scratch, my beautiful lie.” Standing, I sighed and watched him try to hide how much he hurt. “If you get out of this bed, I’ll send your favorite nurse in—dour woman, terribly bossy. She remembers you.”
“Gods, not her. She’s worse than Razak.”
“Then stay. I’ll be back later. If I discover you’ve left this bed, I will make you pay.”
“Really?” He fluttered his lashes. “In what way, exactly? So I can look forward to it.”
I laughed and left the room, clicking the door closed behind me. He was going to be all right. He’d survived; he was damn good at it. Hopefully now, he’d focus on living.
“How is he?” Draven leaned against a nearby wall and straightened as I approached. War’s tropical gardens spread below the terrace, where huge palms swayed, and the people of War—Bozra—bustled about, preparing for a new life without a court. Some said it was without a purpose, but they’d find one. We all would.
“He’s awake.” I leaned against the low rail and gazed over the gardens, not seeing a damn thing. I saw in my mind how Lark had collapsed after his brother’s hanging, how his blood had turned the puddles red. And my heart raced now, like it had then.
Draven puffed out a sigh. “That’s good.”
“I almost lost him,” I whispered.
“He’s tougher than he looks.”
