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“He didn’t need much evidence. He already believed me weak.” I grabbed some of the dried, spiced bread and ate absently, thoughts swirling around what came next for us.
“And War discard their weak,” Lark said.
“What did you say?” Draven turned to Lark, his tone dead-flat.
“I said, they—your court—discard their weak. They give them to the sands.” There was no humor in Lark’s eyes now. Only sincerity, and perhaps a hint of sadness.
“Who told you that?” Draven demanded.
“My vicious nurse. The boys here…” Lark nodded toward a few gathered near the end of another table. “They’re the Court of War’s rejects, thrown out like trash. Surely, you know this, Draven.”
“I know.” He glanced at me, then away, fearful of meeting my gaze. “It’s never discussed, that’s all.”
“I had no idea,” I whispered. “How awful.”
“Excuse me.” Draven stood and strode toward the food table, then veered around it, disappearing behind a tent.
“It appears I struck a nerve,” Lark said.
As Draven’s husband, I should have gone after him, and I would, after I’d given him some time. “You don’t thinkhischild was given to the sands, do you?” I whispered. I’d known he’d had a son, but little else. Nobody had been willing to discuss Draven’s past, and this would explain why.
Lark slowed his chewing and winced. “I hadn’t considered that. It’s possible.”
“And his wife? I mean, he must have had one, to have a child.”
“Something happened, in childbirth maybe?” He glanced down at his assaulted hand. “I didn’t think. I won’t mention it again.”
I sighed. If that had happened to Draven, and his family had been cast out, then our exile into the desert must have been painful for him, more so than I’d realized. I’d planned to tell him how I had strong feelings for Lark, different feelings than those I had for Draven, but that might have to wait. Although, Lark was doing his damndest for menotto love him.
Regardless of our personal issues, I wasn’t giving up on stopping Razak. If anything, I was more determined than ever to stop that vicious prick. We couldn’t get to Justice, and even if we did, we’d be on Razak’s tail, following in his footsteps. Always one step behind. “There has to be another way.”
“Not leaving children in the desert would be a start.”
“What? No, I mean, yes, true, but ever since Razak entered my court all those years ago and killed my previous fool, I’ve been behind his every step, trying to keep up.”
“Trying to dance with Razak is impossible; none of us know his moves.” Lark reached for a nearby pitcher of water and poured himself a cup.
“Exactly. He clearly has a plan, and so far, he’s won. Because we’ve been behind him at every step. What if we somehow maneuvered in front of him?”
Lark considered it. “We know he has his sights set on Justice’s crown.”
“We can’t go near Justice and if we did, we’d be behind him again. He’ll expect us to go there. So we don’t. We do the opposite…” Yes, the more I considered this, the more it felt right.
“Then… where do we go? Justice is the final crown.” Lark sipped his water.
I had an idea. An insane idea. It would mean we’d step out in front of Razak and surprise him. But as Razak had my court’s crown, would soon likely have Justice’s, and with War’s crown’s location still unknown, such a plan might be the only way. He’d never see our move coming. “Pain.”
“What?” Lark hovered the cup at his lips.
“We go to the Court of Pain.” Razak wouldneverexpect it.
Lark’s dark eyebrows pinched. “What for?”
“The crown, of course. Do you know where it is?”
He slowly lowered the cup and licked his lips, careful to school his expression. “The sun must have roasted your mind. We aren’t going to Pain. Ever.”
“Razak isn’t there. We know that for certain. Pain is unguarded and unsuspecting. And you know the court, Lark. It’s your home, you must know it.”
