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Arin sprawled on the bed beside me, and we both lay back, staring at the cracks in the bamboo ceiling. The general clatter and hubbub from the street sailed in through the ill-fitting window, chatter and laughter. I’d become accustomed to the sound. Soon, there would be only the sound of rain on windowpanes.
He sighed. “We should leave in a few days, or we’ll miss meeting with Draven at the Overlook Inn.”
“I know.”
His fingers twined with mine. “I wish I could slow time. I want nothing to happen, so that everything slows, but at the same time, I want to share the world with you.”
His words formed a lump in my throat. Nobody had ever spoken to me in this way. All the showered praises had been fake, and when applause had rained, it had always been shallow, almost meaningless, compared to the fireworks Arin sparked alive within me now.
“Afterward, we’ll have all the time in the world,” I said, sounding like him. If we succeeded in stopping Razak, we’d be free to do as we pleased, go where we liked—to run in his meadows, dance in the rain, make love under the moon on his secret beach. Hope. What a wonderful thing it was to have it.
“Yes.” He smiled, squeezing my hand. “We will.”
If we survived.
* * *
The last ofArin’s coin paid for passage on a huge metal mechanized wagon-train to Pain’s borders. We left the next day, boarding our own private booth inside a large, cylindrical carriage made of what appeared to be hammered steel. A metal beast of an engine spewed hissing steam. It pulled the snake of carriages and thundered along metal tracks. At the front, at its nose, a huge triangular shovel swept waves of sand away. Sand washed by our carriage window, as though we tunneled beneath red water. I’d never moved so fast or inside such a machine. It took a little while to acclimatize to the rocking and rattling.
Arin clung to the opposite bench seat. Our knees touched.
He’d purchased a suit of white with gold-threaded embellishments for himself. Not as grand as his princely attire, but still a sight to see, and a reminder of his lineage. In comparison, in purple and black, I was the thunder to his sunshine.
There were a hundred things I wanted to say to him, a hundred more I wanted to do with him, but the clock was ticking again, my time running out with every desert mile the metal beast consumed. In the end, I said none of it, fearing it may sound like goodbye.
This wouldn’t be goodbye. Nothing would change between us. Just a few days home, in Pain. A few days playing Razak.
But… it would change. Because Arin didn’t know my life, he didn’t know the Court of Pain. I couldn’t shake the feeling we were about to make a terrible mistake.
“Arin.”
He stared at the window, his jaw grinding.
“Arin?”
“Sorry. Yes? I…” His smile collapsed. He smoothed his trousers instead, or dried the sweat from his palms. “I’m a little anxious, is all. And this machine on tracks isn’t helping.”
“There will be things that I say and do when we’re in the Court of Pain. Promise me you won’t believe them.”
“I know you’ll have to lie. It’s fine.” He scooted onto the bench next to me, tucking himself close. The booth was only large enough for four people, seated two by two. “I’ve weathered your lies before. For many years, in fact. It’s just a few days.”
But this would be different. I’d be different, and not just because of who I had to pretend to be, but because of how much Pain changed me. He knew me as Lark, his courtly jester, and even though he believed he’d seen me as Zayan, that act had also been a lie.
He hadn’t seen me as Razak’s pet, paraded on the end of a leash, or left cuffed to a bed. I’d return as Razak, but I’d have to pretend Arin was my prisoner, my pet. He would take my place at the end ofmyleash.
We’d prepared, he knew, but… gods, this felt wrong. “I’ll try and protect you from the worst of it.”
“Lark, I can withstand a great deal. Don’t assume I’m weak, like everyone else does. You know me better than that.”
“I do. But there’s believing you know what you’re about to walk in to and then there’s experiencing it. Nothing prepares you for Pain.”
“I can take whatever you give as Razak.” He twisted on the seat, pressing his knee to mine, and scooped up my mutilated right hand, cradling it carefully in his gasp. “You’ve endured a lifetime of torture. If I can’t survive a few days, then I’m surely not worthy of you.” He tried to smile again, and this time it stayed, softening his eyes.
“Worthy?” I laughed, dismissing his silly notions about my worthiness being anything special, and took my hand back. “I am the least worthy person of your affection, trust me.” I turned my gaze toward the window of swirling red sand so I didn’t have to see his disappointment. One day he’d realize what he felt for me could be explained away as infatuation, obsession, desire, but not love. His heart was meant for a better man than I. He’d learn that soon, once he saw my home, saw the real me.
“Have you had any thoughts about where Pain’s crown is?”
“It’s in the city vault,” I said. We’d passed through the worst of the desert dunes and as the sand settled, the view to the horizon cleared, revealing heavy, black clouds choking the sky. Silent lightning cracked the clouds. That was my home. “The royal vault houses the court’s riches. The crown will be inside it. Few can enter. Just selected council members, and Razak.”
