Chapter 53
I have loved you.
She didn’t think she was breathing.
He was looking at her in ways she had never allowed herself to dissect before. And she didn’t know if any of it was real because she felt like she was dreaming, but she couldn’t deny the longing ache in her heart as their eyes locked.
‘Please say this is real,’ she whispered, her hand closing over his where it cupped her cheek.
‘It’s the most real I’ve ever been.’
Arla blinked, and as easily as breathing their lips came together in a soft, delicate brush.
Her heart soared as she clung to him, two souls combining in a bridge between bodies as they came together, the stars their only witness as Arla felt her carefully constructed walls tumble around her, making way for another.
A partner. Someone from whom she didn’t have to hide.
Someone who had seen her at her worst and had still, against all odds, come to love her.
She breathed him in as his lips moved across hers, whisky and leather and something that felt like home.
She smiled against his lips, and she felt him pull her closer, taking care to be gentle with her injured body.
She fit against him as though they’d been made from the same mould, the two of them separated and destined to find each other.
How had her belief in the fates and the gods changed so drastically in such a short amount of time?
He pulled away slowly, and gods-damn her if she didn’t miss the feeling of his lips against hers already.
But she didn’t think she would ever get used to the way he was looking at her or to the way she knew she was looking at him.
As if they were seeing each other for the first time and it didn’t matter what colour their blood ran.
It didn’t matter that his father had ordered her kingdom to be slaughtered, because she had come to learn that he was more than his father’s faults and failings.
She wished she could take back everything she’d ever said about the people of Kastonia.
They didn’t all deserve to burn, not if they were like Hark Stappen.
A roar that shook the glass windows in their frames echoed across the valley. Arla’s blood rushed in her ears, her heart thundering as a great winged beast flew up from beneath the balcony and soared above them, fire streaming from her open jaws to light the star-studded sky.
A squeak slipped through Arla’s lips. ‘Thara…’
‘I told you I was close by, Dragonhart. Did you think I had abandoned you?’
Laughter spilled from her, the movement tugging the stitches at her side and it had her leaning against Hark to stay upright.
‘You know,’ he murmured in her ear, ‘I get the impression your dragon doesn’t like me very much.’
‘The boy has sense, at least.’
‘I think you’ll have to charm her,’ Arla replied, smiling as he tucked a loose curl away from her face.
‘Like I did you?’ Hark purred.
‘You didn’t charm me, Hark,’ she said softly. ‘You made me want to kill you. That’s even better.’
He laughed then, unbridled and free, something Arla wished he’d do more. Would vow to make it so, actually.
Thara flew closer, landing heavily on the stone balustrades of the balcony. Arla was sure the whole building rattled.
A soft rumble sounded through the bond, tugging on something in Arla’s core that drew her towards her dragon, hand outstretched to rest on Thara’s scaled snout.
Her dragon breathed softly, hot air wafting across Arla. Hark hovered behind her, his hand reaching for her spare one.
‘Can he?’ she asked Thara, wary of what her dragon would answer.
‘If he must,’ she said with a sigh.
Arla turned to Hark, her fingers tightening in his as she pulled him closer. She could see the wariness in his eyes, in the way they widened and his feet were slow to move.
‘It’s okay. She won’t hurt you,’ Arla said as she lifted Hark’s hand, inching closer to the dragon perched on the balcony.
‘That is not a promise, Dragonhart.’
‘It’d better be.’
Hark tensed as his palm settled on Thara’s snout, the low rumble escaping her throat sending him pulling backwards.
Arla didn’t allow it.
Whether it was Arla’s own confidence or the fact she would never let him live it down, she gradually felt Hark relax beside her, their breaths settling into sync with Thara’s. It was … healing, she thought. For just a moment it was the three of them, connected in ways she could have never foreseen.
She felt Thara’s impatience through the bond before the dragon could make it known and do something unforgivable, like tear Hark’s hand from his arm.
Arla pulled her hand away quickly, taking Hark’s with her as Thara launched herself off the balcony, disappearing into the night sky and leaving the two of them alone, watching the stars.
‘What happens now?’ she asked, unsure of what any of it meant for her future – their future.
‘We build a better world. We begin with Flambriar, and all we can do is hope the rest of the world follows.’
It was a lovely dream, and her heart pined for it.
She didn’t stop herself from reaching to kiss him, and her stomach fluttered as his lips met hers again, his touch so gentle and warm where his hands brushed her skin. She could stay there forever, suspended in this starlit dream, nothing able to break—
‘Fucking finally.’
Arla’s head snapped up, jerking to the side to see Sebastian leaning against the wall of Claret Hall. A grin greeted her, his eyes amused and hair gleaming like his own personal halo where the torchlight illuminated him.
Arla took half a step back, her tongue leaden and her words failing her for the first time in her life.
‘Don’t look so embarrassed, Dragonhart. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t dreamed about kissing Hark Stappen, too.
’ Seb winked, and Arla felt her cheeks warm as she stood blinking, as though she’d been caught in something far more sinister than admitting to herself – and to Hark – that she cared. Desperately. Deeply.
‘I sincerely hope you have a good reason for interrupting us, you prick,’ Hark snapped, though Arla could tell the annoyance didn’t reach his eyes.
There was nothing but love and trust between Hark and his friend, and Arla didn’t doubt Seb had been a steadying hand whilst she had lain unconscious and wounded.
‘Fine, starve then,’ Seb retorted, spinning on his heel and trying unsuccessfully to smother the smirk gracing his lips.
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ Hark sighed, linking his arm through hers and holding her close.
* * *
They followed Sebastian into a surprisingly cosy dining room.
A large but unremarkable wooden table occupied the centre of a room while a fire burned in the corner of the room, a splash of colour against the neutral palette making up the carpets and curtains.
Though high-backed wooden chairs were arranged around the table, there were armchairs and settees positioned around the fire, and there was nothing to suggest this was a formal or courtly palace.
The décor was simple and personal – blankets, tumblers of whisky, and half-read books with their spines cracked lay scattered throughout a room that was thoroughly lived-in.
It was so unlike the rooms in Castle Grey and the few she’d seen at Larkire, all of them pristine and grand, and ready to entertain whichever guest would arrive through the doors next.
She loved Claret Hall, and she loved this room most of all.
Her nose carried her to the spread of food on the table and the people gathered around it.
A roasted pheasant rested on a silver platter, and there were trays of potatoes and vegetables and all of it so hearty and so simple.
Wine bottles littered the table, and the scent of everything combined had Arla’s stomach clenching uncomfortably.
She didn’t know whether the others had noticed her arrival or whether Kase and Jaz were so invested in arguing over who would carve the bird that they didn’t care to greet her.
She didn’t mind. She had felt awkward under the gaze of so many, when the people had offered her the silent gesture of respect, and she was glad to be just Arla for a while.
‘Evening, Arla,’ Jack said from his seat beside Kase, raising a frail hand in welcome. She needed to thank Jack for taking such good care of Vetta. She smiled in return, beginning to pull a chair out for herself before Hark took over and removed her hands from the smooth wood.
‘I’m not dead,’ she snapped, ramming an elbow into Hark’s side and shoving him out of the way. He raised his hands in defence, arching a brow at her as the rest of the room finally turned their attention to the pair of them.
‘You might be, though, if you keep coddling her, Stappen,’ Jaz chirped, sliding a bottle of wine across the table towards him.
Arla resisted the instinct to grab it before it could reach Hark but kept her hands where they were.
Hark uncorked it and poured a hearty glass each for himself and Arla.
‘What took so long?’ Jack asked, spooning golden potatoes onto his plate. Arla didn’t miss the way his other hand rested on Kase’s knee beneath the table. Would she ever stop noticing these things? Or was she doomed to have the keen mind of an assassin forever?
‘I was showing Arla around and telling her a bit about how Flambriar came to be.’ Movement at the table halted. Arla thought she could feel the room hold its breath.
‘She’s staying, then,’ Jaz stated. Not a question, and Arla didn’t miss the challenge in his voice.
‘Of course she’s bloody staying.’ Kase’s hand slammed down on the table, her eyes dark beneath her fringe. Arla tensed; she hadn’t expected hostility at her arrival here.
Before she could open her mouth to – what?
Defend herself? Or spit venom like she had done on countless occasions – Kase continued.
‘She’s a dragonhart. She’s the dragonhart.
She went into Larkire alone and got Hark out.
You want to discuss it, Jaz, I’m sure I can schedule a portion of my evening outside—’