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“I’m taking the next supply train back to War,” he said.
Arin shifted on the chair. “When does it leave?”
“Tonight.”
“So soon?”
“There seems little point in delaying when there’s nothing here for me.”
Arin shrank some, his heart taking a beating. I flicked my hacked-at hair and flashed Draven a smile, drawing the warlord’s ire away from Arin. Draven was bitter; he’d had his heart broken. I’d give him some time to hurt, but if he came at Arin with any more guilty blows, I’d put a stop to it. “Dinner then, the three of us,” I offered, forcing some brightness into the room. “As a farewell.”
Arin brightened, and Draven huffed a soft laugh and smiled. “Fine then, Lark. But you’re paying.”
I shrugged. I had no idea how I could pay, when I had no coin and nothing to call my own. Even my clothes were borrowed. But I’d figure it out.
“All right then,” Draven drawled. “Dinner, before I leave.” He closed the door again, and Arin and I listened to his clunking footsteps descend the stairs, then the front door creak and slam.
“Do you think he knows?” Arin asked.
Draven was sometimes slow to catch on, but notthatslow. “Are you truly asking or jesting?”
He slumped in the chair. “I hadn’t meant to be so cruel.”
“Hm, but you’re so good at it.”
He flung me a droll look, then narrowed his eyes. “Stop.”
“What?”
“With the look.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I blinked and fluttered innocent lashes.
“Get dressed. There’s lots to be done.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Is breakfast on your list?”
He sighed, then scribbled on the paper. “Breakfast with Lark,”he announced, then showed me, by which time I’d left the bed and padded bare-assed across the room. I perched on the edge of his desk, legs crossed at the knee. He made a valiant effort not to look at my crotch, but I’d left him little choice.
He dragged his gaze from my stiffening dick, up my chest, to my eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”
I plucked his list from his fingers, tossed it aside, and leaned in. “I think you know.”
* * *
Later in the day,we visited the tailor’s, had my measurements taken, and placed our order with promise of payment to come on delivery, then wandered the sweltering jungle-oasis town. The atmosphere was much like that of the trading caravan, the people open and friendly; even more so than in Arin’s court—they’d all had barbed smiles. But the people here were honest with their expressions and their welcome.
With the town being tucked into a ravine, it remained sheltered from the sun’s powerful rays, and it meant the evenings came early. We wandered into the performers’ area as the day began to cool and the shadows drew long, and the bars, restaurants, and nightlife began to stir awake. Draven had brought Arin here the previous night. He’d thought then how I might enjoy it.
I did.
Players took to the streets and danced and sung; some juggled. One man swallowed fire on the end of a sword—something I might have to try; I was comfortable deep-throating most things. Arin left my side to go looking for Draven. I remained, tapping my foot to the jubilant music, eager to dance. It had been a while since I’d danced for my own pleasure and not because of someone’s demands.
A great many things had ended with Arin’s court’s demise, not least my four years of freedom. His plan to infiltrate the Court of Pain had merit, but it meant walking back into a prison, when I could walk away.
