Page 18 of Her Blind Deception (The Dark Reflection #2)

Chapter Eighteen

I n the cool light of early dawn, I slid out of the warm bed. Draven was still asleep, and I stood by and just watched him for a few moments, watched the slow rise and fall of his chest with a feeling of tenderness I didn’t want to peer too closely at, before I crept across the room. I turned the key in the lock of the liquor cabinet slowly and when the cupboard door creaked, I froze, held my breath. But he slept on.

The partition lifted with barely a rustle, and beyond it the mirror gleamed almost unnaturally bright, reflecting more light than there was in the dim room. And there I was, careworn and scarred, not a girl who could keep any man in her thrall, let alone the one sleeping in my bed. He could never see me like this. If he did, all the leverage I’d won over him would dissolve.

And what about the leverage he had over me? What was I trading for this intimacy? What was I hoping to buy with it? Did I think that one day I might be able to turn around and tell him that I’d lied, that Gwinellyn was actually alive, and could I please bring her home now, thank you?

The cold touch of magic numbed my skin, and a shudder raced down my spine. In a dark cell in this very palace, the ones who had given me these scars breathed the same air as me.

‘This is early for you, ma’am,’ Leela commented as I stepped into my sitting room, still barefoot and dressed in nothing but a robe. She was sitting by the fire, flicking through a pamphlet as she waited to be summoned. Her gaze skimmed the door. ‘Would you like me to bring your breakfast?’

‘I’ll eat in the dining room,’ I said. ‘And have them set the table for two.’

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but that was the only sign of surprise she communicated. ‘As you say.’

I wondered what she thought of me as she set off to order about the other servants and attendants. Perhaps that I was playing the same game I always played. She’d seen my rise to power, seen me seduce and marry a king and secure myself a crown. Why was this any different?

No. She was far too sharp to be fooled into thinking this was anything like that had been.

Creeping back through the bedchamber, I slipped into the bathing room and shut the door behind me. I ran a brush through my hair, rinsed out my mouth, turned my face this way and that in the mirror to check for impossible imperfections, and by the time I’d finished the bed was empty. Disappointment swooped through my stomach at the sight, and I titled my chin in the air with a sniff, as though I was trying to put on a show for someone watching and not just for myself.

When I entered the dining room, I was surprised to see Draven already sitting at the table with a newspaper spread before him. His dimple flashed as he looked up at me from beneath his dark hair, then he went back to dragging a thumb nail down a crease in the paper.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, coming to stand by his side.

‘Reading the paper.’ He tugged at the crease, and a series of folds and angles revealed themselves. He plucked the whole thing up and offered it to me. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

I studied it, following the lines and the carefully constructed shapes, the way they tucked together in a spiralling centre. ‘It’s a flower,’ I said, bemused as I accepted it.

‘A tulip.’

‘For me?’

‘Of course.’

I tucked it behind my ear and for a moment he looked at me, really looked at me, like he was drinking me in, mapping my features, until I laughed to relieve the tension. ‘Between cooking and paper folding, you’re starting to seem almost domestic.’

I found my seat all the way at the opposite end of the table and servants swooped in to begin filling our plates, probably glad to be given something to do so early in the morning, given that I usually didn’t allow them in until after I’d dressed and breakfasted.

Within a few minutes of beginning, a footman entered. ‘Lord Sherman, Your Majesty,’ he announced, bowing to Draven. Vaguely, I wondered at the ease with which he’d assumed sovereignty, wondered how much my authority was worth in the face of it. If he decided to stand against me on something, my power would collapse like a house of cards.

Draven raised an eyebrow. ‘So early? It had better be important.’

A few moments later, the man in question burst into the room. His cheeks were ruddy, his hair unruly and his clothes were dishevelled. It looked like he had dressed and departed his own quarters in a hurry to get here.

‘Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesties,’ he began, dropping a hasty bow towards each of us only after he was already several steps through the door. He was almost panting between words. ‘An urgent report… couldn’t wait.’

‘Come out with it then,’ I said, a sense of premonition prickling at the back of my neck. What could be so urgent that this wilting old man would be pressed to run?

He took a few hasty breaths, clutching a hand to his chest. ‘A contact on the border… Oceatold king preparing for war…’

‘War?’ I repeated. ‘With Oceatold? Don’t be ridiculous, Sherman. Your contact must be misinformed.’

‘Not misinformed,’ he gasped, shaking his head. ‘Slaughtered soldiers! Our own men!’

Shock stole the breath from my lungs. ‘They attacked our soldiers?’

‘No!’ He waved an urgent hand through the air. ‘We attacked them! A garrison near the border. Unprovoked. Our soldiers caught them by surprise. No survivors!’ His expression was one of wide-eyed horror, and each phrase was spoken in a shrill strangle.

‘I don’t understand,’ I said, my mind racing. ‘Why would our soldiers attack them?’

Then I caught sight of Draven.

He wasn’t even looking at Sherman. He was watching me.

‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice even. Calm. ‘I think that could have waited, but if you rustle the council together, we’ll meet on it.’ And then he turned back to his plate, plucked a grape from a bunch and popped it into his mouth.

If Sherman thought the king’s reaction unusually flat, he didn’t show it. With another hasty bow, he withdrew. The click of the door closing ushered in a cavernous silence.

I stared at Draven for a long moment. ‘Did you do this?’ I asked quietly.

‘What reason would I have for attacking an Oceatold garrison?’ The question sounded like a challenge, like he was daring me to take a guess.

My gaze roamed the sharp lines of his jaw, his deep-set eyes, that mouth that could spin honey-sweet lies and truths that cut to the bone. ‘I have no idea,’ I said. ‘But that doesn’t mean you don’t have one.’

We glared at each other down the length of the table.

‘Everyone out.’ His order cracked through the air like a whip, followed by the quick footsteps of the servants withdrawing from the room.

I took a final sip of my coffee, then rose to my feet. The paper flower slipped out of my hair and fluttered to the floor. Slowly, I strolled down the table, trailing fingers over the polished surface. ‘Why did you send them out? They might enjoy hearing the lies you’re about to spin for me.’

He leaned his chin on one hand and drummed the fingers of the other on the table. ‘I’ve never lied to you.’

‘Lies of omission are still lies.’

‘There are some truths I can’t trust you with. ’

I laughed at that as I reached him and perched myself on the tabletop, folding my legs and clasping my hands over my exposed knee. ‘And otherwise you’re the paragon of honesty. So come on, sell me your story. What will it be that’ll twist me just right? Oh I know. Is it a whole garrison of binders? And as part of their training, they scoop up poor hapless street girls and hold parties where they set them on fire?’

A muscle in his jaw flickered, but he said nothing.

‘You know, every time I start to envision a life where I could possibly trust you, you go and remind me that I never should.’ I leaned forwards, my robe slipping lower. Because perhaps I was that scarred girl when I was standing before my mother’s mirror, but the rest of the time I had a face that could fell kings. I would see him humbled before me. ‘Tell me what happened at the Oceatold garrison, Draven.’

‘As Sherman said. Our soldiers attacked theirs.’

‘ Why ?’

Again, he said nothing. But I was whizzing down lines of consequence, trying to untangle the web. A network of outcasts lying in wait. The Oceatold delegation leaving in the night without so much as a goodbye. Draven accusing Boccius of working with Creatia. And then I was thinking back to the riot at the Burnings, to that moment when I’d caught sight of him in the crowd, to the way the people of the city had been stirred into rage without warning, without prior arrangement, with nothing but rocks and fists to defend themselves against the king’s druthi and soldiers. Almost like they’d been encouraged. Almost like they’d been enchanted.

Did he want a war?

But why ?

I straightened, looking down at him. ‘I’ve known from the beginning that you’re trouble, but I didn’t realise you were a monster.’

Anger sparked in his eyes. ‘You’re not the first person to call me that, and I doubt you’ll be the last.’ His hands slid up my legs, fingers gripping my calves. ‘But if you think you want some kind of noble hero for yourself, you don’t. There’s more violence in you than you’d like to admit.’

‘Stop talking like you know me better than I know myself. It’s conceited and infuriating.’ Pushing his hands off me, I slid off the table. I kept my gaze fixed on him as I drew back, putting the table between us. ‘You said you didn’t want me for an enemy.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Are the men in Sentinel’s Tower just part of some ploy? A plot to keep me occupied so I won’t notice that you’ve sanctioned an unprovoked attack on our closest allies?’

‘No.’

‘Because that’s a pretty difficult thing to overlook, even if you did drag the most horrific thing that’s ever happened to me back onto my doorstep to distract me.’

‘That isn’t why I brought them here.’

I walked to the window to stare through the tracks of rain on the glass into the garden below. ‘I never thought I’d find myself longing for Linus,’ I said.

I didn’t realise he was behind me until his hand closed around my wrist. ‘I don’t want to hear you say that name,’ he hissed.

I turned on him, yanking my arm out of his grip. ‘Why not? You are the reason I was married to him.’ I found something I wanted in his expression, and I offered him a frosty smile. Leaning back on the window ledge, I glared up at him from beneath my lashes, hitching a foot up against the wall. ‘What’s wrong, husband? Don’t you like the idea of me in someone else’s bed?’

‘No. I don’t.’ And there it was, that slither of anger I was clawing at, spilling into his eyes and the rigid lines of his neck and shoulders. I could poke, I could prod, and perhaps he would rupture. And what would I find when he did? Would I find the answers I wanted? Or would I find only darkness and rage?

‘How does it feel knowing you sent me there in the first place?’ I pushed.

‘How do you think it feels?’ His voice was low and dangerous.

‘I hope it torments you.’ I leaned into the space between us, daring him to touch me. ‘I hope you wish you’d made your wretched deal with someone else the way I wish I’d never met you.’

His hand whipped out and snatched my chin, keeping me from turning away, forcing me to hold the distance I had so brazenly taken. ‘You’ve still not learned to mind your wishes, my dear.’

‘Lucky for you, or I would have wished you away by now.’

He smirked. ‘ Liar.’

He crushed me against him, his mouth on mine a demand I couldn’t help but answer. I smacked my palms against his chest, but his hands caught mine and our fingers curled together, disarming me long enough to send lust shuddering through me, smudging into my anger until I was just a mess of rushing blood and shallow breaths. He released me, slipped his hands around my waist, up my spine, winding into my hair and pulling it tight until my neck was arched and he was kissing his way down my throat.

‘You want to know how it feels?’ he snarled against my skin. ‘It feels like swallowing knives. It feels like wearing broken glass.’ I whimpered quietly as he bit my shoulder, the gentle pain making my legs weak. His hands slipped down over my hips, digging into my thighs. ‘It feels like wanting to kill a man who’s already dead.’

I caught the front of his shirt in my fist, pulled him back up to eye level. ‘Good. It should feel like that. And you can’t just fuck me into submission,’ We were both breathing heavily as I held him there, my skin flushed hot and his hands still on me. ‘I’m not going to let you do as you please just because I like the taste of you.’ He pushed a knee between my legs, parting them, the pressure against my centre sending a shock wave along my nerves.

‘Would you like to make a bet on that?’

‘Asshole,’ I spat, even as I pulled him in and kissed him again, my teeth catching on his lip, biting down hard enough to make him pull back and touch his fingertips to his mouth. His eyes darkened, and without warning he spun me around, pulling my hips hard up against him as he pressed his mouth to the back of my neck, making my skin thrill all down my spine. He drew the robe down my shoulders, his fingers heavy, finding my breasts and taking hold of them, massaging them. I reached out and slapped my palms against the window, steadying myself as my eyelids fluttered close. I was all tension, a series of coiled springs, every touch eliciting a tremble, as though he was winding me tighter and tighter.

‘You’re nothing I haven’t had before,’ I gasped out, and I was no longer sure if I wanted him angrier, or if I wanted to hurt him, or if I just wanted him to grip me tighter. ‘You’re just another man.’

My arms buckled. The cold of the glass was against my breasts, peaking my nipples. The courtyard plunging down below was littered with small figures hurrying through the rain. I should have cared. I should have worried that any of them might look up and see me bared for them, but none of my attention reached the courtyard, tuned as it was to the heat of Draven pressed behind me. His mouth was in my hair, against the nape of my neck, pressed to the curve of my shoulder, and his hands were everywhere. My skin prickled and flushed as he dragged my robe up my thighs, bunching it around my waist, finding his way between my legs with his fingers. I dropped my forehead against the window, my breath fogging the glass as he proved again that he knew exactly how to touch me to elicit a response, to make me slippery and hot, and that he wasn’t just like every other man who’d come before him. I tried to keep from making a sound, but I couldn’t stop my body from responding.

‘If you’re so indifferent to me, prove it. Tell me to stop.’

‘Fucking. Asshole.’ The words came out in broken gasps.

He trailed a hand up my back. ‘Is that a request?’

‘Just try me.’

‘I have. That’s the fucking problem.’ He pressed himself against my core and pulled my hips to him, pushing into me slowly, savouring me, that first tight inch a decadent yielding that completely untethered my mind from my body before he filled me completely. The response I’d meant to speak fractured, became a moan.

I arched my back as he began to move, to thrust into me forcefully, his heavy breaths dragging hot fingers against my skin.

‘But now there are no others,’ he growled, finding my hands splayed against the glass and winding his fingers through them. ‘Not before. Not after. There’s only me.’

The only reply I managed was a whimper as he pressed me tighter against the glass and I gave myself over to the clash of cold and heat, the friction of him moving inside me thrilling along my nerves. My body disintegrated around me, my mind unravelled, and all I could do was grip tightly to his hands against the window, my body beginning to shake. He slid a hand free, skated it over my stomach, down between my legs.

‘Now be a good girl and come.’

‘Fuck you,’ I cursed as I did exactly as I was told, my climax rolling through me like a quivering wave, cresting where his body met mine, tightening around him. He dug his fingers into my hips and peaked a few moments after, dropping his face against the back of my neck, his body quivering, breathing hard.

I wasn’t sure when we slid to the ground, but we did, sitting side-by-side with our backs against the wall, both trying to catch our breath. He sat with his arms slung over his knees and I folded my robe back around me as I gathered my scattered thoughts. I wanted to touch him. I didn’t.

‘Get out,’ I said finally.

‘Rhiandra--’

I rose to my feet. ‘By the time I get back out here, you should be gone.’

He laughed, shaking his head at the ground, before he pushed himself up. ‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ he said, his eyes hard as flint. ‘Run from me. Run like you ran yesterday.’

‘I’m not running anywhere. This is my suite. You’re leaving.’ I turned on my heel and stormed back towards my bedchamber. ‘Go and sort out the war you’ve started,’ I threw over my shoulder as I slammed the door.

I leaned against the wood and ran my hands over my face, my chest tight and my eyes stinging. I was furious and heavy-hearted. My stomach churned with the turbulence of my emotions and I felt like I might be sick.

I was in trouble. I was losing control of this situation.

If I’d ever had it in the first place.

I felt like I was still sitting across that chess set, and with one hand he was dangling his attention like a shiny jewel before my eyes while with the other he slipped his pieces around the board.

Perhaps Leela had been right. Perhaps I should have been more careful.

Because what was I thinking, really? That I could make him love me? As though we weren’t both playing the same game. The closer I drew him, the more I exposed myself.

And he was getting to me.

With my thighs still wet with him, I could admit that he was getting to me.

A temptation was beckoning, a craving to relive the moments on the other side of the door, against the window, to run my fingers through the memories and feel their texture, but I forced my mind into the present. I had to stop this. I had to draw back, establish some distance, somehow claw myself out of this downward spiral that was going to end somewhere I didn’t want to admit to.

And if Draven wouldn’t tell me what he was doing, I would figure it out myself.