Chapter 10
‘Get out!’ Hark groaned, pulling a shirt from the floor beside the bed as Arla charged through the doors into his room.
She’d seen the prick following her last night. She’d forced herself to go back to her own rooms after Reuben had left her, rather than batter Hark’s door down to demand why he continued to spy on her.
But she’d been too vulnerable then, dragged out of sleep by images of her parents.
Too still. Too dead. She’d tried to go back to sleep, of course.
Had tried to distract herself with a book on the history of the kingdoms. How the kingdoms had been queendoms, once.
How there had been wars fought over the land Hadalyn and Kastonia occupied.
How in the Kingdom of Velor, on the continent, there were vast lakes rumoured to be home to mythical creatures – women with fishy tails who sang so beautifully they could lure men to their deaths.
It was all nonsense, of course, but she enjoyed the tales of lands beyond the continent, where there were groups of islands with strange names such as Osana and Trapaly, which were home to magic beings with pointed ears.
None of those stories had kept her from wandering the corridors last night. Nor had they kept her from spotting a silver-haired girl disappear into Hark’s rooms, or from becoming irrationally furious with him as a result.
She was leaving.
Today.
‘Get up!’ she snapped again, tossing Hark’s saddlebag towards him.
‘Hate to break it to you, sweetheart,’ he said, stretching his arms high above his head, his voice coarser and smokier than usual and the remnants of sleep lingering within it, which made her heart stutter slightly, ‘but the storm doesn’t look like it’s about to break anytime soon.
You might be eager to go but I’m sure your mare won’t thank you for it—’
‘Vetta would gallop into hell if I asked her—’
‘That may be so, but the road will still be blocked, and even if it weren’t, the ground is likely to slip away beneath the horses’ hooves. You wouldn’t want yours to pick up another injury, would you.’
It was true. Every word.
The shingle and mud that made up the path towards the north would be a death trap in this weather. She owed her beloved Vetta more than forcing her out into these conditions.
Arla sighed, collapsing into a cushioned chair so inelegantly she could hear Perry scolding her for it in her head.
‘Where’s the girl you lured back, Stappen? Got bored of your incessant arrogance or are you really that bad in bed she had to escape before you could take her clothes o—’
‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’ he snapped. ‘Or are you actually incapable of entertaining yourself without resorting to violence that you must sit in my rooms and spout falsities?’
She smothered a smirk. ‘When your boredom finally wins out, you let me know. We need to finish that duel.’
Hark barked a laugh. ‘I won that duel.’
‘No,’ she said, tossing her braid over her shoulder. ‘You cheated. There’s a difference.’
‘Your shoulder won’t be up to it,’ he said, striding to the windows. Arla didn’t miss the grimace he tried to hide at the state of the weather outside.
‘I’ve kept training through worse.’ Her ankle often reminded her of it.
There was a surprising softness in Hark’s gaze as he turned to face her. ‘I know you have.’
She didn’t know why her stomach swooped or why her palms became clammy, but she was out of the door before she could give it a second’s thought.
She wandered for a while, running her hands over expensive banners and doorknobs with jewels encrusted into them. Larkire Palace was a thing to be admired, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. It oozed luxury and treasures and secrets and she hated how much she liked it.
At the sight of a carved oak door protected by no fewer than four guards, Arla’s intrigue was piqued beyond thoughts of where Larkire bought the yarn they used to weave their carpets.
She strode past the door, noting the way the guards’ hands twitched where they rested on the pommels of their swords.
Interesting.
It had to be where Elrod kept the most priceless jewellery and diamonds in his collection.
Arla was almost to the front doors of the palace, when Orson appeared from nowhere.
‘Skulking about as usual, I see. Never knew when to keep your nose out of other people’s business even when you were a girl.’
Ah. The same argument again.
‘Not my fault Cyrus picked me, Orson,’ Arla said sweetly, flashing him one of her most vexing smiles. ‘Tell me, are you bitter because you didn’t get chosen to be the King’s Assassin or head of the King’s Guard, or is it because you were beaten by a girl?’
Violence flashed in his eyes, a promise of all the things he’d like to do to her. He raised his fist in an instant, aiming straight for the spot in between her eyes.
He halted mere millimetres from her face.
‘Tsk. You never did learn to control your temper,’ Arla cooed, sauntering past him. She hadn’t flinched and she knew it made him even angrier.
‘I’ll fucking kill you one day. Cyrus only sent me here as ambassador because he knew if I stayed in Hadalyn I’d slit your throat whilst you slept and he didn’t want his pet to bleed out on the carpet.’
He was seething, a thick vein bulging in his forehead as he sneered at her. Orson wasn’t much older than her – a couple of years, perhaps – but he had always treated her condescendingly, as if she were a child.
It made it all the sweeter that the role of King’s Assassin had been created just for her.
‘There’s the temper again,’ she called back over her shoulder. ‘One of these days it’ll be the death of you.’
* * *
‘Your spying really has improved if you can read at the same time.’
Gods, she hated Hark Stappen.
‘Why don’t you disappear back to whatever dark hole you’ve crawled out of,’ she said, not lifting her eyes from the page she turned between her fingers. The tavern she’d chosen to hide in for the afternoon was small and relatively quiet. It had been perfect. Until he’d arrived.
Hark huffed a laugh. ‘Because, sweetheart, it’s better I find you than the king, who is currently on his way through the town with an entourage. And you’re not supposed to be here.’
Her ears pricked at that. She’d known they wanted her to stay inside the palace, but to send the guards and the king into Larkire to look for her?
‘I’m surprised your king is so concerned with my whereabouts. It’s not as if I’m fomenting rebellion or about to torch the place.’
‘Debatable,’ Hark mused. ‘They’re not, of course, out here in the middle of a storm advertising the fact that they’re searching for you.
Elrod does ride through the town sometimes – though admittedly not in these weather conditions – so it won’t be entirely out of the ordinary for the townsfolk.
But Orson’s been in his ear all day, whispering that you’re trying to discover secrets to use against them. ’
Not exactly untrue…
But Orson was a traitorous bastard. His loyalty should be to Hadalyn and that included her.
‘So they’ve sent a search party after me? Gods, don’t they have anything better to do?’
‘I would if I were them.’
‘Why are you here?’ She sighed, fastening her cloak at her throat. She didn’t want to return to the palace. Not before everyone had gone to bed at least, and she wouldn’t run the risk of seeing Hark with that silver-haired girl again.
The thought of him with her was enough to bring bile to her throat.
‘Because you need to come back before Elrod can accuse you of espionage and have you executed.’
Please.
The thought was laughable.
But Arla gathered her things and left the tavern with Hark. They’d almost made it back to the palace gates when they were stopped by the King himself.
He rode a hulking grey beast with red and gold decorative banners stitched to its bridle. Water from the golden crown on the king’s head ran in rivulets down his face. Arla could barely hear what he was saying over the wind.
‘I do hope you’ve enjoyed your time in the town, Miss Reinhart. Perhaps some tea? Something stronger, maybe?’
She felt Hark stiffen beside her and resisted the urge to balk beneath the king’s gaze.
‘That sounds lovely,’ she managed to say through gritted teeth.
* * *
The king hosted her in his private rooms, sending Hark away to discuss trade deals with Orson. Arla smirked at the expression on the ambassador’s face.
Reuben sat beside his father, his easy grin settling her nerves at being so close to the man responsible for ruining her life.
The King poured the tea himself, a gesture so unexpected and strange for such a man that Arla couldn’t work out what game he was playing with her.
‘Tell me, Miss Reinhart, why you would venture out into my city when the weather is so atrocious. Is our palace not sufficient for your needs?’
Ah. So Hark was right. Elrod didn’t want her loose in his city.
‘The palace is a monument to luxury and grandeur, Your Majesty. Only, I am not used to being confined by the weather – a nervous disposition, if you will.’
Reuben raised a brow as he lifted the cup of tea to his lips. Arla didn’t think she’d ever be able to get a lie past the prince. He seemed to have a knack for seeing straight through her.
Elrod raised a brow, leaning back in his chair and eyeing her in a way that was almost repulsive.
‘I find it hard to believe Cyrus would employ someone with any sort of disposition besides one suited perfectly to disposing of his enemies. So tell me, assassin, what secrets were you hoping to learn in my town?’
Heat prickled at her skin, and for half a moment Arla could almost feel the wrongness of which the man at the market had spoken. There certainly was an oddness to the king, and she’d be a fool to lie so obviously in front of him.
‘Secrets of Kastonia’s history, mainly. Your kingdom is one I don’t know well – even the ones on the continent have hosted me from time to time over the last couple of years.’
‘Ah,’ the King said. ‘It is only natural for you to wish to know more about the closest neighbouring kingdom to your own, especially given our … strained relationship. But there are no secrets here, Miss Reinhart. Everything you wish to know is in the history books.’
Bullshit.
‘So tell me about the magic, then, Your Majesty. Your people speak of it as if it is still real. Tell me why that is.’
If he was playing a game, then she could, too, even if it meant biting her tongue while she heard more superstitious fairy tales about the eccentric beliefs that had this kingdom in a chokehold.
Something flashed in Elrod’s eyes. Something that had her questioning if he might actually be about to plunge a dagger through her heart. But then his face cleared, and he spoke as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
‘Magic was … unlike anything we’ve ever seen, I believe.
Long ago, magic was wielded freely in this kingdom, and in yours, too.
The dragons were still seen around then, relaying messages from the gods and protecting those with magic in their blood.
Those who didn’t have magic became jealous, as is the way of things.
Those who had magic threatened a greater power, one that reached beyond the mortal will of kings and queens.
But over time, magical blood was diluted and eventually … ran out – or so I’ve heard.’
His eyes had taken on a faraway look, and…
Oh gods, he fucking believes it, doesn’t he?
Every single word. But there was an edge to his tone, one she hadn’t heard others exercise when it came to the rumours of the magic-wielders long before.
‘Tell me, Miss Reinhart, do you despise my kingdom for what we did to yours?’ he asked suddenly.
For a moment, Arla thought her heart had stopped beating.
She blinked slowly, exhaling somehow through a jaw clenched so tightly she was sure it would crack.
‘I … I believe wholeheartedly in the cooperation of our two kingdoms. Whatever happened before is … in the past.’
It broke her heart to say it.
There was silence. A stillness. She could feel every muscle in her body stretch tight. Tighter. Tighter. Until she was sure something would snap.
She jumped at the barking laugh released from Elrod’s throat. ‘A political answer, if ever I heard one. Cyrus has trained you well, Miss Reinhart.’
The king slurped the dregs of his tea, banging the cup down onto the saucer resting on the glass table between them.
Arla thought he must be able to hear her heart thundering in her chest.
‘Excuse me, I have business to attend to,’ Elrod said, rising from his chair and threatening to send everything on the table clattering to the floor. ‘I do hope the inside of the palace will be sufficient for the rest of your stay.’
She took it as her cue to leave, rising gingerly from the cushioned seat. She didn’t dare meet the gaze of the king, but the prince offered her a small smile as she slipped from the room.