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A carriage pulled up. Danyal nodded to the driver, then opened the door. “Razak?”
I didn’t have a weapon, only my hands. Danyal was a proven killer. He’d be armed. But I had the advantage. He wouldn’t kill me, not even if he knew the truth. Zayan belonged to Razak.
The ride back wouldn’t take long, but it also didn’t take long to choke a man.
We climbed into the carriage. Danyal closed the door and settled opposite me.
He stared, unblinking. He didn’t need to say the words; his appraising gaze did it for him. He stripped my lies bare. Few men or women had such power. I’d likely never know how he’d been able to read me so easily.
He slow-blinked and leaned forward. “What are you doing, Zayan?”
“You are mistaken—”
He grabbed my hand and spread my finger stumps, as though I needed reminding. “Your lies cannot hide what’s been done to you, boy.”
I snatched my hand back, lunged, and smacked his head against the carriage bulkhead, rattling his consciousness. But it didn’t last. He swung, landing a punch in my side, then twisted, hauling me down to the floor, under him. I kicked out, caught his leg, dropped him to a knee, and broughtmyknee up, impacting his middle. As he grunted, slumping over, I cracked a fist into his nose. Blood spurted. He reeled, clutching his face. I grabbed him by the shoulders and flipped him under me and pinned him to the carriage floor, reversing our positions. He became wedged in the narrow space between the seats, and while he struggled, my hands slotted neatly around his neck.
Blood from his mashed nose ran down his face, under my fingers. He whipped his head to one side, dislodging my grip, and he landed another punch in my bruised side. Pain snapped. I gasped, and I clung to the carriage seat, then bared my teeth. “You willing to die for this?”
He struggled back to his knees, coughing and wheezing.
The old bastard had a whole lot of fight in him, I’d give him that.
He raised a hand, panting. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled.
The carriage had stopped. Were we already back at the tower? Any moment the driver or an aide would open the door. They couldn’t see Razak brawling with a commoner.
I sat up, straightened my clothes and hair, winced around the crackling heat in my side, and flashed him a long, withering look. If he talked, it would not end well for him.
The carriage door jerked open.
“My Prince, we have arrived.” Danyal gestured toward the door, then used the same hand to wipe blood from his nose. He hadn’t used my name, hadn’t yelled for guards, and the aide wasn’t at all interested in Danyal, just me.
I dropped down and hurried up the stairs, reapplying my act with every step.
All I had to do was get through the night, steal Pain’s crown, and leave with Arin.
And if anyone else got in my way, I’d remind them exactly how Prince Razak ruled the Court of Pain by swinging their wretched bodies from a tree.
CHAPTER16
Arin
Even if Icould escape the cuff, there was no escape from the room. Lark had locked the door. I yanked on the damn thing anyway, pulled and tugged until my thumb had rubbed raw, but it was no use. He’d left me here.
I slumped on the bed, defeated.
This room was his. I’d seen it on his face as soon as I’d woken to find him sitting at the end of the bed.
The bed itself was plain, the walls grey, and there were bars on the window. A prison, not a room. I’d spent a few hours here and already despised it. He’d spent years, with a single door between him and Razak. How had he not lost his mind?
Lark needed me. He didn’t know it, he thought locking me away would keep me safe, keep me away from his court and his life. But he couldn’t do this alone. It was too much, even for him. He was coming apart. He’d become his enemy, his tormentor, his nightmare, and he was so afraid of it and what it did to him. I saw it all, because I knew him, loved him, but I couldn’t damn well help him if he ran.
If he’d just have stayed after he’d brutally fucked me, I’d have told him how I’d liked it, needed it even. Yes, it had hurt—still damn well hurt—but I could take whatever he gave, if it meant he’d realize I was here for him. I’d always be here for him.
A key clattered in the lock. I twisted on the sheets, angled toward the door, wearing nothing but my wrinkled shirt and fine silk jacket. At least it appeared as though I’d been thrown here and discarded, which was the point. If whoever was about to come through that door was anyone but Lark, I’d fight them with all I had. Kill them if I had to.
The door swung open and Lark strode in. He glanced at me, then away.
