Chapter 51
Arla knew she would regret the suddenness of her movement as she launched herself off the couch and crossed the room to where Hark Stappen stood. She didn’t think at all as she hurled herself at him, not caring if his arms opened to catch her or not, because he was here.
She couldn’t hide the noise that squeaked out of her as he pulled her tightly against him, burying his head in her hair.
‘You’re okay,’ she sobbed into his chest, gripping the front of his shirt in her fists.
‘I’m here,’ he murmured softly so that only she could hear it, and just the sound of his voice made her weep harder.
He held her through it all, unyielding as she poured years’ worth of hurt into him. Never again would she let herself deny what she felt for him. Never again would she allow them to be apart.
‘I’ve got you. It’s okay.’ So softly, so unlike them. How had she survived without him before?
He pushed lightly on her shoulders, creating a gap between them so she could see his face: the strong curve of his jaw; the dimple he only ever blessed others with, never her, but there it was, peaking from the corner of his cheek; the soft sweep of his hair, tousled and bouncy on his forehead; and his eyes, a different blue today.
Not the icy coolness of his father’s, but lighter, warmer than they usually were. And he was looking at her.
‘Hark—’
‘Don’t you ever do that again,’ he interrupted, his voice desperate and pained as he held her by the shoulders, fixing their gazes and sending bolts of electricity through her.
‘What?’ she whispered. Words were not coming easily, which was rare for Arla – talking was a trademark of her personality. She shifted her weight, wincing at the pull of the stitches in her side and their protest at her insistence on moving.
Concern marred Hark’s face, and he turned her gently by the shoulders, his hands burning hot embers through the wool of the cardigan.
‘Sit. You’re still weak,’ he said softly, throwing a glance at Kase who swiftly moved to the tea cabinet and began pouring fresh cups for each of them.
‘Weak indeed. Tell the boy to get his hands off you—’
‘Jealous?’
Thara growled. ‘You were far more tolerable when you were asleep.’
Hark was fussing again, moving cushions for her as though she were a second away from breaking.
‘I’m fine,’ Arla protested, unused to being so cared for.
‘I know. But you— Arla, you nearly died.’ There it was again. Her name. On his lips. The second time in her life he had ever used it. Did it take a sword to the side to earn your own name?
‘Well, if I was going to die, at least it was riding a dragon.’ She chuckled through her tears and Hark looked at her like she was insane – she probably was, because it really wasn’t the right time to find humour in something that could have so easily gone the other way.
Thara’s own amusement flowed down the bond.
His hands found her cheeks and she had to resist the urge to reach for a non-existent blade at her waist at the sudden, unexpected contact. She was glad, at least, that her reflexes hadn’t fled her along with her energy and her ability to stand without gasping for breath.
‘Do you know how fucked up that was? Damn, Arla.’ He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar and heart-wrenching that Arla had to swallow the tears climbing in her throat.
‘You were dying. You were dying and you jumped off the castle onto a bloody dragon with your fucking eyes closed! Do you know how that felt?’ He was …
borderline hysterical, actually, and she knew she was looking at him with wide eyes.
‘Yes,’ she said softly, watching as he opened his lips to question her.
‘I know how it feels to lose someone. And I know how it feels to believe that you’ll never see someone again.
I went into Larkire knowing I probably wouldn’t walk out alive.
But as long as you got out and I knew you were safe, I was okay with dying. I told Thara to save you, not me.’
‘A fool’s request,’ Thara huffed. ‘And yet for you, Dragonhart, I would have saved the boy.’
Her heart ached at the dragon’s words and the promise that went against the oath she had sworn to Arla.
‘Never do that again,’ Hark demanded.
Was he angry that she had saved him if the price was her life?
She didn’t know. But she knew that had it been the other way around, she would have sooner died than go back to a life without him at her side.
There had been too many nights during which she’d wished it had been her that had been killed rather than her parents.
Nights during which she knew it would have been easier for her to die because it would mean she wouldn’t have to live with the pain of being without them.
Was that what Hark had experienced in that moment?
Had he wondered how he was going to continue without her?
She wasn’t brave enough to ask.
‘Is it done now? Are all of the magic-wielders safe? Are there any that we couldn’t rescue?’ Arla asked, letting her eyes drift around the room and up to the stars witnessing the reunion.
Hark smiled softly. ‘Elrod can’t touch them anymore. Anybody known to have magic is safe and out of Kastonia. It’s done.’
‘Where are we – exactly, I mean?’ she asked, not knowing if they would trust her enough to answer.
And for a moment she didn’t think they would.
Hark eyed Kase, her mouth a thin line against her pale face.
But then her chin dipped slightly in a movement Arla might not have clocked had she not been used to studying people and anticipating their movements.
Hark inhaled deeply, as though preparing himself for something difficult, something he knew he couldn’t take back once he’d voiced it into the world.
‘Welcome to Claret Hall, Dragonhart.’
‘I think you ought to begin explaining, Hark.’ Her voice was stronger than she’d expected, some of the fire within her trying breaking through.
‘I think it might be easier if I show you,’ he replied, smiling as he offered her his hand.
She took it, again surprised at his warmth as he helped her stand. Her breath immediately became strained, and the ache and exhaustion of her body had her steadying herself against the couch.
‘On second thoughts, I’m taking you back to bed,’ he said.
Not a chance in hell!
Her hand was free of his grip and around his throat in a second, daring him to continue with what she knew he was about to do.
‘So violent, Dragonhart,’ Thara purred in her head.
‘If you even think of manhandling me, Stappen, you will very quickly find out how thoroughly uninjured I can make myself,’ she said in a lethally soft voice, channelling the pain and exhaustion as she dug her nails into the soft flesh of his throat.
She ignored the wave of encouragement Thara sent her way through the bond and watched his eyes flicker with something … before amusement danced back at her.
‘Understood,’ he said, eyes twinkling.
‘Gods spare me,’ Kase muttered, tossing her braid over her shoulder, and swallowing the remainder of her tea.
‘You can hardly stand, Arla,’ Hark said. ‘Walking the distance to what I want to show you is likely to take you all night.’
‘Good job I’m not in a rush, then,’ she replied sweetly, sticking her tongue out at him before pulling the cardigan tightly around her shoulders.
* * *
She’d be damned if she ever admitted that Hark was right and that, yes, it would have been quicker for her to be carried. Or that, yes, now she was walking she wished instead to be in that comfortable bed in that beautiful room and explanations could wait.
But she’d said she was going to walk and not even the gods could stop her from shuffling alongside him.
She knew he knew she was regretting it, but surprisingly, he kept his undoubtedly irritating comments to himself, instead opting to hover too closely by her side, his arm never far away should she stumble.
She didn’t.
Kase trailed behind them with silent feet that Arla appreciated with an expert ear. Perhaps one day she could go head-to-head with the girl and Arla might finally have someone skilled to practise against.
‘Go, Kase. You’ve been here long enough,’ Hark said lightly, not looking back at his friend as he dismissed her.
Arla had been expecting it, and she didn’t know how she felt at being left alone with him – glad, yes, because she was fed up with feeling smothered and was too tired to keep up a pretence of feeling better than she did.
But there was a part of her that was flapping wildly in her stomach at the idea of them being alone.
It was … different now. All of it. They’d gone from outright dislike to this understanding that they couldn’t bear to be apart. Where did it leave them?
‘Where are you?’ she asked her dragon, a pathetic excuse to try and avoid what was coming next. She’d been so eager to know everything, and now, well, now she felt a foreign nervousness she couldn’t unpick.
Thara’s reply was instant. ‘Close by.’
‘Kase,’ Hark reiterated at the girl’s silence. Arla could almost feel Kase’s reluctance at leaving them together, as if she didn’t trust Arla – or perhaps Hark.
‘I won’t be far if you need me,’ Kase said eventually, her sparkling voice so timid and gentle in the silence of these perfect, cinnamon-scented hallways.
Arla listened as the girl’s feet sounded in the opposite direction, and she took a deep breath as the world settled around the King’s Assassin and the Ambassador-Prince of Kastonia.
‘She feels responsible, I think. She hasn’t left the hall in days. Jack’s been out of his mind pining for her,’ Hark chuckled, though Arla could hear the guilt in his voice.
‘Why?’
‘Because it wasn’t her that came to Kastonia—’
‘Hark, it’s not her f—’
‘I know,’ he interrupted, raising a hand to silence her. ‘I never wished for Kase – or any of my friends – to come after me. To be honest, I couldn’t quite believe it when you did. But Kase regrets that it was you who almost died for me. She’d rather it had been her.’
‘What, so she could brag that she took a sword in the side for you? That she’s perfect, and loyal, and—’
‘Kase doesn’t think that about herself,’ Hark said suddenly, his voice too serious for Arla’s liking and she immediately felt ashamed at her words.
‘She sees you, Arla, and she respects you. You are the last dragonhart, you are the King’s Assassin, and you have become …
you have become a part of us. She wishes it wasn’t you for more respectable reasons than you give her credit for. ’
‘Tell the boy he speaks to one chosen by the gods and his disrespect will not be tolerated—’
‘I’ve got it, Thara.’
Arla chewed on her lip, resisting the urge to argue with him.
To fire back with something wholly unnecessary just to make herself feel better about what she’d said.
But she didn’t. She walked gingerly at his side, each step on a floor carpeted in the same creams and whites she’d seen elsewhere …
until she was hit with another wave of exhaustion and dizziness.
But before she could become too weary and reluctant to walk even one more step, Hark led her to a set of glass doors at the end of a hallway.
Beyond it, through the glass framed by wood and stone, were stars, stars, and stars.
A vast expanse of midnight and beauty. The freedom of it took her breath from her.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, pausing as Hark rested his hands on the curved silver handles of the doors.
‘Oh, it’s about to get spectacular, sweetheart,’ he murmured, smiling softly at her. Her heart fluttered at the sweep of his mouth, the tease of a dimple flirting with her. Their eyes locked, a thousand thoughts passing between them.
She was swallowed in an embrace of cold air, the shock of it drawing a gasp from her as the doors swung open and Hark stepped outside.
He was smiling at her, his hand outstretched and encouraging. She blinked, adjusting to the sudden chill, and placed one foot outside Claret Hall.
There was an utter stillness to the world beyond the doors. Everything had become cold, perfect, and quiet. She took Hark’s hand in hers – still an unfamiliar sensation but one she was beginning to enjoy.
‘I won’t bite,’ he said softly, beckoning her closer.
One step. And then another. And then another until she was in front of him.
A balcony stood proudly behind him, a tall, stone-columned structure that she desperately wanted to see beyond. But his gaze had captured her, and she didn’t care what was beyond it at this moment.
‘You asked me where we were. I hope this provides an explanation I cannot do justice by putting it into words,’ he whispered.
And then he was leading her to the balcony and the world beyond it.
Her knees became weak, and a tiny sound squeaked from her at the sight of what had been forged in this tiny corner of the world.
For the stars appeared to have fallen from the sky, and hundreds upon hundreds of twinkling, perfect lights shone in the valley beyond Claret Hall.
A whole kingdom of light, colours even in the dark cover of night blinked up at her, an entire kingdom of faraway music and ringing laughter that reached her even at this height.
A whole kingdom lay in a valley peppered with pine trees and bordered by snowcapped mountains – a steadfast protector against any intruder. Hundreds and hundreds of stone buildings and houses decorated the valley, smoke curling from the tops of them and lights shining proudly in the windows.
‘Welcome to Flambriar.’
A great, winding river ran through it all, a snaking blot of midnight water to give life to a vibrant, magnificent kingdom. Half a dozen stone bridges arched over the water at regular intervals, twining the two sides of the valley together in a crescendo of life.
And then there were fireworks.
Huge, brilliant explosions of colour and sound, and she could hear the laughter of children even from so far above the valley.
She looked up at Claret Hall, a striking, magnificent edifice of glass, wood, and stone that clung to the side of a mountain overlooking the kingdom. Balconies jutted out above and below them, an acknowledgment of the sheer size of the building they stood in – a palace, rather than a hall.
‘Why are you crying?’ Hark asked gently. She hadn’t been aware the tears had spilled but, sure enough, they were carving silent tracks down her cheeks, cool in the chill of winter air surrounding her.
‘Because it’s perfect.’