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I arched an eyebrow. “I make a great many things appear easy, but many of them are exactly the opposite.”
“Yes, I imagine they are.”
His tone had changed, quietened, becoming thoughtful. Close enough to be scandalous in court, but here, on his beach, nobody saw. Just the stars and the moon, our permanent voyeur. We were not prince and fool, but two men, two almost-strangers.
My heart was a drum in my ears, hot blood in my veins, everywhere, all at once. “Why am I here, Arin?”
“I said no questions, didn’t I?” he teased, eyebrow arched.
I dipped my chin. “Very well.”
“If I cannot juggle, then I’ll tell a tale of two kingdoms. You like stories, Lark, do you not?”
Hm, a story? “I do.”
“Then you may judge mine.” He stepped back and rolled his shoulders, as though freeing himself of another skin. “On the surface, all is well between these two kingdoms, but beneath, an old rift grows wider. We’ll call them the Court of Flowers and the Court of Storms. How does that sound?”
My heart fluttered, but the thoughts in my head? They were dagger-sharp and focused all on Arin. “Delightful.”
“The Court of Storms churns with chaos, and the Court of Flowers, well… They are the flicker of hope in the darkness.” He paced, and his boots crunched in the shingle. “How am I doing, so far?”
“Suitably dramatic, but lacking a figure your audience might sympathize with.”
“Ah yes, the protagonist. If we can call him such.” He turned his face toward the sea. “A prince, although few would know it. He is afraid, you see? Afraid for so long, it’s a part of him, in his veins, his bones. He hides it, hides all of himself, so the world won’t know, so the Court of Storms don’t sense weakness. But it’s already too late. The storms have spread far beyond their borders, raining poison down on all they touch. It happened so slowly nobody noticed.”
My heart thumped louder and louder, his story so keen, and so true, he might as well have been calling me out right there. “Alas, I fear the story is too bleak, it needs a happy ending or your audience will not return for more.”
“Well, it’s not over. There is hope…” Arin threw me his radiant smile. “Our prince is not alone in his fear. There is one other. The most unlikely of heroes. Always observed but too easily overlooked. Seen in one breath, dismissed in the next. The perfect distraction.”
“A beautiful lie?” It was out before I’d thought to keep it from my lips. Arin’s glare cut to me.
His eyes widened, then narrowed as he regained his storytelling composure. “Yes… The beautiful lie.”
My heart thrashed behind my ribs. “I fear fools can never be heroes, only pawns in a prince’s game.”
“Not this one, for you see, he is a fool in one court, but quite something else in another.”
He knew.
He knew everything.
He knew my life among his court was a lie, but worse, he knew where I came from. The so-called Court of Storms from his tale—the Court of Pain. All my efforts to fool everyone, my endless games, dances to distract and delight, kisses placed on the backs of fingers while I picked their pockets for secrets. The Court of Pain was the approaching storm, and I, its silent lightning.
He should kill me here and let the ocean take my remains. If I were him, I wouldn’t have waited this long. How was I still breathing?
The knowledge shone in his silver eyes, playing along the edge of his soft, honest smile.
I turned on my heel. It was over. I couldn’t stay a moment longer. The net I’d feared had been tightening, had snapped closed. Arin had me.
“Lark,” he called, raising his voice over the sound of the crashing waves.
I could have ignored him, pretended I hadn’t heard, but while my head told me to run, my heart ached to stay. No matter the consequences. Or perhaps because of them. He’d brought me here to tell me he knew.
I was a fool.
“Run, and I can do nothing for you,” he said, now just a few steps behind me.
But I was running, and he gave chase. If I turned I’d see his face, and I’d want to believe whatever he said next, take whatever way out he offered. But nobody escaped the Court of Pain, least of all me.
