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“What is there to say, Arin?” He faced me again, his smile as sharp as ever. “You make a fine pair.”
Whenever I thought I understood him, he pirouetted and flung my facts back in my face. I’d thought everything that had happened this past week—the sandworm, the kiss in the cave, last night—and all we’d previously endured, though those events had been terrible in many ways, had brought us closer. Or so I’d believed. I knew we had something, a connection, something that was heart-deep, but then he’d look at me as though nothing mattered. Certainly not me, orus.
If I told him I loved him now, would he throw that back in my face and laugh? But it didn’t feel like the right time. And last night, when he’d pushed my hand away after torturing me in the most wonderful way? He’d been hard in his trousers, I’d seen that much, and I knew he preferred men, but not me. Not since that night in my bed, when he’d clutched both our cocks in his hands. Had I done something wrong? If he didn’t want to be touched, I’d understand. Or was I tooinexperienced?
“You should smile,” Lark said. “This is as close to freedom as we’re going to get.”
I glared. “I smile when I mean it.”
His right eyebrow twitched. “You’re spicy this morning.”
“I wouldn’t be if you’d stayed last night.”
He shrugged. “Three’s a crowd.”
“There wouldn’t have been three.”
“You were leaving, were you? Because Draven stayed all night.”
My glare hardened. How did he know? “He… did stay, yes,” I admitted.
“In your bed?”
“What if he did?” He hadn’t, but Lark’s attitude was grating.
“Then that might account for your hideous mood. He’s well-endowed, but rather unimaginative between the sheets.”
I snorted without humor. “You’d know.”
“Hm, yes, because you assume I’ve ridden every cock in your Court of Flowers.”
“Haven’t you?”
He bowed his head and laughed at the tabletop. When he looked up, the smile was so like Razak’s that the heat from whatever this was turned to ice in my veins.
“Even the virgin cock belonging to the prince who cuts throats,” he said, delighting in every word.
He hadn’t actuallyriddenme. Still, this didn’t seem the right time to split hairs on the matter. He hated me for using him as bait and revenge against Razak. And I loved him. I was a fucking idiot.
“Breakfast,” Draven announced, sliding several plates between us and scooting onto the bench beside me.
“Thank you.” Lark took a piece of peach-like fruit and set it down in a bowl in front of him. “Last night, while you two lovebirds slept, I wandered the camp, trying to think of a means by which we can stop Razak, and frankly, we cannot.”
“Oh, well, that’s settled then. We’ll just give up,” I snapped, then heard the whine in my voice and winced. Draven frowned, more confused than anything else. “My apologies, I’m tired. But still… This can’t be the end. There’s more we can do. We’ve been knocked down, but we’re here, we survived, and that means we’re strong.”
“It means we got lucky,” Draven said. He plucked a piece of dried bread from the plate along with some fruit and began to eat. “I’ve been thinking about what Lark said last night too—”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Just that we’ve lost. And if we keep trying, eventually Razak will kill you, Arin.”
“Lark said that?”
“Not in those words.” Draven set his food back down and straightened. “But he’s right.”
“So you’re both giving up?” I asked. “Because of me?”
“We can’t get into Justice,” Lark said. “They’ll arrest us. There’s a slim chance Draven could talk his way back into Ogden’s court, at least gain an audience with him. But not with you at his side, Arin. After you argued for me, Ogden believes you’re a traitor.”
