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He rose to his feet. “I have to go. I slept later than I should have. We will discuss this again soon. In the meantime, there is someone coming to fetch you to bring you to training. As you requested.”
“Training?” My heart leaped, even though I knew it was such a minor thing to be pleased over in the grand scheme of things. Still, I needed my body to be strong and capable when I confronted Arthur and his army. Who knew what I would need to do? I had recovered from the wounds Vesper had given me, but my endurance had not.
And I’d admit, part of me was curious about what sort of things the Siabra warriors here might be able to teach me.
Draven was dressing swiftly. I glanced back at the bed. Strange. My pillow was nearly next to his, in the space in the center of the bed that was normally empty.
I felt a moment’s unease. Had I been sleeping closer to my enemy than I had realized? And how often did that happen without my even noticing?
Draven was buckling his belt. “Don’t overdo it today. I need you tonight.”
I gulped. “You what?”
“We’ll be attending a ceremony to officially open the competition. There will be rites, of a sort. All of the contestants will be present.” He looked over at me and cleared his throat. “Breena will be coming to help you dress. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing a gown. I hope you’ll find it acceptable.”
“This is the start of our truce then?” Freedom for compliance. I shrugged. “As long as the gown covers my...”
“It will cover those blasted marks,” Draven said shortly. “If you’ll permit, I’d like someone to take another look at them. Perhaps Javer could...”
“He’s a healer, too? No. Absolutely not. That man is not touching me. Over my dead body. You saw how he treated Beks!”
“Not a healer, no. But a court mage of not inconsiderable skill. His specialties lie with shielding and levitation, as you got a glimpse of. But...” He paused as if he knew I was going to reject whatever he said. “He’s a member of my court. A loyal one. I trust him.”
Did that mean Javer was no longer part of the Queen Regent’s court? Or loyal to her?
“I’d rather Crescent do it than Javer,” I said stubbornly. “Or better yet, why don’t you forget about them altogether?”
“Forget?”
“Yes! It’s my body, isn’t it? If anyone should be bothered to see Florian’s fucking name carved into my skin it should be me.”
Draven looked thoughtful. “And? Does it? Bother you?”
“Look at me, Draven. I chose none of this.” I held up my marked arms, then tugged at the neck of my tunic to give him a good glimpse of the letters written above my breasts. Written with a dagger I would never forget the sight of. “But it is all part of who I am now.”
“Scars of battle.” Draven shook his head, his expression wry. “You’re right. I didn’t understand. You fought that fucker and you won. In a sense, his name is a sign of your victory. You’re still standing. While he...” He trailed off.
“Is lying in an unmarked grave? Or at the bottom of a lake?” I guessed.
Draven grinned. “He’s exactly where he deserves to be. It was a pleasure to take care of him for you. An honor. What you did with that earring...” He whistled then brought a finger to his lips in a sign of admiration.
“It wasn’t as if I planned it.” I vividly remembered the spurt of blood as I’d shoved the rose stem into Florian’s exposed neck.
Draven’s grin fell away. “No. Of course, not. But I find it heartening that such violence is in you.”
I stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Why the hell would you find it heartening? Shouldn’t you be more worried I’ll stab you with an earring?”
His lips twitched. “And yet strangely, I’m not. As for why? Because you’ll need it, Morgan. In this place? Maybe more than ever.”
He strode to the door, then hesitated. “Well, good-bye then. Have a nice day.”
This was awkward.
“Just go,” I snapped. “We don’t have to pretend with each other in here at least.”
Something between a scowl and a smirk crossed his face. And then he was gone.
Had I been too harsh?
