Chapter 10
HARK
The soldier in the sitting room had not stopped talking for twelve minutes.
He spoke of bloody footprints, a demon girl that had slid off the back of a dragon and stormed through the hall last night, silk dress tangling at her ankles with blood dripping off her hands.
He didn’t have it in him to tell the soldier that Arla Dragonhart wasn’t, in fact, possessed.
It was just the way she always had been: violent and uncompromising when her mind was set.
And who was he to tell her she couldn’t be that person anymore?
She had struggled to adapt to life in Flambriar; it was to be expected that she would lash out eventually.
If the rest of them didn’t understand her, well …
he didn’t give a fuck, really. She was his, and he was hers, and no matter how many times she came back here covered in blood, he’d defend her.
He only hoped no one had seen her kill whoever her victim had been, and that it wouldn’t reflect badly on his court.
‘I’ll have a healer see to her, Stan. You’re excused.’
Stan left immediately, and Hark couldn’t stop himself from heading in the direction of Arla’s rooms, but his fingers wouldn’t close around the doorknob no matter how much he willed himself.
They’d fought, and he had been cruel to her.
It was no wonder she’d expressed her anger the only way she knew how and gutted someone whilst everyone else was asleep.
He could hear the fire roaring in the grate even from behind the door, and he didn’t think he was imagining the soft tinkling of china or the faint laughter that reached his ears.
Perhaps he should go… If she were speaking with Thara, then all he would achieve would be upsetting the pair of them with his presence.
No.
He’d come here to make amends, to lay an olive branch between them. He had told her he loved her weeks ago, and he’d meant it. Meant it with every ounce of his soul.
The doorknob was cool beneath his fingers.
He found her curled up in an armchair by the fireplace, a blanket across her lap and her hair in loose waves around her shoulders.
A book rested between her fingers, and the tinkling sound had been the tea set Kase had procured for her at the market in the city.
She wore only a slip of pale pink silk, and he longed to feel it slide over her skin.
‘Hello,’ she said softly, lifting her gaze to meet his where he hovered just behind the chair.
‘Hello.’
‘You haven’t been here in weeks,’ she said, closing the book and pulling her knees up to cross her legs beneath her.
Hark took the seat opposite her, almost groaning as the heat from the fire seeped into him. ‘I … Arla, I…’
‘I know.’ Her eyes held none of the fire or violence he had come to know, only a gentleness that was foreign and yet so … right.
‘Would you like to come scouting with me tonight? You can bring Thara.’
The way her eyes lit up nearly shattered his fucking soul.
She was beautiful.
And yet he wanted her eyes to light up like that for him.
He hadn’t given room to the jealousy that had begun to fester whenever he caught her away in her own mind, conversing with a creature that knew Arla in a way he never could.
He couldn’t compete with that sort of bond – he shouldn’t try, either.
It was a connection that had been forged by the very gods and it was entirely different to what he shared with Arla.
And yet, the things he felt for her… The way his heart could barely keep up whenever she glanced at him…
That had to be forged by the gods too, didn’t it?
Arla leaned forwards, already braiding her hair. ‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On if you can keep your eyes off me long enough to make it up the mountain without breaking your neck.’
He couldn’t stop himself reaching for her. She fell into his arms, the jasmine scent of her wrapping around him as he pulled her closer. She was so soft, so perfect, so lovely in his arms that he didn’t think he would make it out of this bedroom, let alone up the mountain.
‘You know the soldiers and the maids think you’re a demon, don’t you?’ he mumbled into her hair, relishing the way she curled closer into him.
‘Good. What did you tell them?’
He chuckled, inhaling the scent of her. ‘That you can do no wrong. That you are not, in fact, a demon, and never have been.’
Arla snorted. ‘There was a time when you wouldn’t have defended me killing people, you know.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, twisting his fingers in her hair. ‘But that was before. Whatever you do, I’ll defend you.’
She stiffened slightly, a flash of something flickering in her eyes before she sank into something lovely and soft again. ‘I’m corrupting you,’ she mused, playing with the collar of his shirt.
He placed a palm on each side of her face and tilted her head upward. Those coffee-coloured eyes were flecked with the gold of the fire, and a teasing smirk tipped up her lips.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he groaned.
She only shuffled closer to him, sitting in his lap so she was eye level. Gods, she was a picture of a goddess. The strap of that godsforsaken nightgown had slipped down her shoulder, and her hair curled loosely around her face. She’d ruin him. And he’d fucking let her.
‘I’ll come scouting with you, Hark,’ she purred. ‘But I’m not getting dressed.’
Fucking gods.
He wished she’d got dressed.
Her cloak kept parting in the wind, teasing him with glimpses of her skin and that pink nightgown. He didn’t know how she wasn’t freezing, though he supposed the fact that her dragon lurked so close was enough to warm her.
They’d marched up this mountain quicker than he ever had with the soldiers and the scouting group. He was prone to forgetting just how fit and lethal she was. It was hard to remember when she was dressed like that.
Their boots crunched in the ice and days-old snow, and Hark tried not to let the sound grate on his nerves. He wished they were silent. An enemy soldier would hear them coming a mile off and scatter before he had a chance to notice.
‘Do you not get bored being up here every night?’ Arla asked.
Hark swallowed the wariness at feeling Thara’s breath brush the back of his neck before he answered Arla. ‘Do you not get bored of running laps of the grounds every morning and pushing your body until you’re sick?’
‘Point taken.’
They kept walking, as silently as they could manage, scanning the open space around them.
‘I’ll do anything to keep them safe. I won’t lead a kingdom like my father did. I don’t want them to fear me.’
It was the whole point of it. The basis for his fight with her. He wouldn’t rule as a tyrant, with absolute power.
‘They aren’t scared of you, Hark,’ she said softly, weaving her hand into his. ‘They’re scared of not having a leader. They’re scared that they’ve been abandoned.’
He squeezed her hand lightly, glad that it was there, glad that she was mature enough to forget their fight and walk with him tonight. He loved her so much it hurt him. He’d do anything for her. Anything.
Which was why he pushed thoughts of his father to the back of his mind and made himself say, ‘I know they need a leader, but I don’t know how.
You know what you’re doing. You’re far better at this than me.
I know I told you I wouldn’t force you to be a queen, and I won’t.
But I need your help if this is going to work.
I need you to help me build this kingdom. ’
Arla was silent for long seconds, her eyes so piercing in the starlight as she mulled over what he’d said. It was true, every word of it. He knew they needed help, but he didn’t know how to give it.
‘I’m here,’ she said softly, stepping closer to him and placing her right hand on his cheek. Her fingers were startlingly cold. ‘I’m always going to be here. I promised you I would stand at your side whilst we helped the mages. I’m not going to run away, Hark. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.’
He didn’t think he could love her any more if he tried.
Arla inched closer to him, until her lips were pressed against his and her hands slid to the back of his neck. ‘I love you,’ she whispered against him, all jasmine and honey and Arla.
He kissed her back as if his life depended on it. As if she were the very thing his blood craved. His hands roamed the slight curves of her body, sliding beneath the cloak and tangling in the delicate material of her nightdress.
‘You are magic,’ he mumbled against her, and he felt the smile spill over her lips as he kissed her harder.
‘It’s been said before,’ she whispered back.
He pulled her even closer as the kiss deepened. He wanted more, more, more—
His blood ran cold as she stiffened against him.
Oh gods, he’d gone too far. She had been with men under the direction of her king and Hark didn’t know what they’d done to her. Perhaps she couldn’t stand the touch of someone else…
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
Her eyes were far away, her head tilted slightly as though she could hear something he couldn’t.
‘Arla, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—’
‘Something’s wrong.’
His heart stopped beating.
‘What do you mean something’s wrong?’ he growled, already unsheathing the sword at his side and spinning in the direction she faced.
There was nothing but open mountains and snow and ice and stars.
‘Arla—’
‘There’s no one here, but something feels off.’
She still hadn’t looked at him, her eyes unblinking as her chest heaved and Thara inched closer to her. He’d almost forgotten about the dragon.
Only when Thara’s snout nudged the hand hanging slack at Arla’s side did she come out of whatever reverie she had disappeared into and she looked up at him, her face grim with the clouds of worry in her eyes.
‘Thara can feel it,’ she said quietly, rubbing her palm over the dragon’s face. Hark tried not to shudder as the dragon breathed out a cloud of hot, sulphur-scented smoke. ‘Something doesn’t feel right. It’s like … the magic is … off.’
Hark spun around. If Kastonia was moving against them—
‘There’s no one here, no one for miles and miles,’ she said, reaching for his arm.
‘But something isn’t right. Thara thinks the gods are unhappy still.
’ She quietened then. It had been a long time since Hark had seen her look so fragile, so young.
Eighteen years had moulded her into something far more mature than she should be, so much so that he often forgot she was still barely an adult, living this life for the first time, just like him. He wanted to keep her safe from it all.
‘It’s my fault. I was supposed to unite the kingdoms but … I don’t know how.’
He pulled her close to him, ignoring the low rumble in Thara’s throat. ‘It’s not your fault. We’ll find a way. Jaz has been searching through the library every day to find something on the dragonharts. It’s not your fault, Arla, and whatever storms are coming, we’ll weather them together.’
A soft, gentle smile soaked into her lips. She was so lovely like this. So perfect.
‘Together, then?’
He pressed a kiss atop her head.
‘Together. Come on, we should go to bed.’
He needed to spend time alone with her, with no dragons or kingdoms to distract them. He needed to see that pink nightdress in all its glory.