Page 9 of Her Blind Deception (The Dark Reflection #2)

Chapter Nine

D raven donned the role of king as though no one would dare dream of challenging him. He picked a suite of rooms for his own, which I snuck into and snooped through, finding nothing that suggested he had a personality that differed to the existing decoration. He took an interest in all the minute details of governing the kingdom, troubling himself with offices and people who were doubtless very nervous to suddenly have a monarch poking around when they were used to being left to their own devices. From finance to trade to military, he made himself busy that first week. He appointed staff, made himself infuriatingly present in far too many aspects of my day, and then issued an invitation to the entire bloody aristocracy to come and celebrate our secret wedding and ogle us.

He had ignored every one of my rational objections to this plan, as well as my more irrational ones. We don’t need swathes of nobles poking around us while our position is still uncertain had received a patronising smile. What sort of honeymoon period will it be if the palace is swarming with people? had provoked a slightly better response, a cocky murmur about locked doors and cupboards and the privileges of royalty. Your arrogance is going to get us both killed had only earned me a laugh.

I didn’t want more courtiers here. More aristocrats meant more schemes, more noses poking in where they weren’t wanted, more favour to curry. I had enough to worry about with the council, Dovegni, and the phony search for Gwinellyn. The council members had been unusually quiet since that fateful meeting when they’d been enchanted into obedience, but it felt like the pause before a blade falls. I had the sense that they were all watching warily on, recalculating, learning what they could of this new political landscape. It wouldn’t be long before they were ready to make new moves.

I was one threat down, however. The night after I'd announced my marriage, the entire Oceatold delegation, including Prince Tallius, packed up and left the palace. They told not a soul, and the departure was only discovered in the late morning by servants who expected to serve breakfast and found empty rooms strewn with the debris of a hasty exit. I was tempted to consider it a win. He had clearly given up the hope that Gwinellyn was coming back, and so his path to the throne was blocked. I did wonder briefly about the encounter between the haughty prince and Draven at the Aetherdi dinner. Perhaps he had simply been angry at the sight of the man who had the position he had wanted for himself. Or perhaps Draven had said something offensive to him earlier in the evening. Aether knew, Draven was good at that. Whatever it had been, I was just glad the prince was gone .

Later on that day, though, I'd been thinking back on my conversation with Senafae at the play and had sent for her. But she'd been gone too. It made sense, of course, for her to have left with them. I wasn't so stupid as to not have considered that Tallius was the cause of the pregnancy she'd ended, given that they'd been at the play together. Maybe for the living child she'd mentioned, too. I hoped that he wasn't the rat I suspected him to be and would treat her well.

I sucked in a breath as I watched another lavish carriage roll in and spit its occupants out onto the palace steps. I was just close enough that I could make out a little body language and facial features, but not close enough that they could pick me out from the rows and rows of windows looking down. But I didn’t need to be able to see them closely to know what they were all thinking. They were all desperate to know where favour would fall, whether the new king could be charmed or angered or influenced. It made little difference to most of them who was sitting on the throne, really. They would be looking out for their own necks.

‘You look well rested.’

The voice made me jolt, gasping a breath of surprise as I realised Draven was leaning against the doorframe.

‘How long have you been standing there?’ I demanded. ‘I’m going to assign someone to follow you around with a trumpet.’

‘Rhiandra, if you wind yourself any tighter you won’t be able to breathe.’

‘If I’m tense, it’s because of you.’ I wrapped my robe tighter around my waist and secured it. ‘This is a terrible idea.’

‘So you’ve said. More than once.’ He pushed off the doorframe and crossed to my bed, dropping onto it like he owned it. He was dressed far more grandly than I’d ever seen him, in a coat of finely woven silk over a deep burgundy waistcoat embroidered with vines of thorny roses. ‘I think you should live in my suite. This bed is too small.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Kings and queens keep their own rooms. And I spent weeks redecorating in here.’

A smile pulled at his mouth as he leaned back, and the expression was far too wicked for someone I wanted to share living quarters with. ‘So, I’d have to make it worth the wasted time?’

‘I like my own space,’ I said firmly, before smothering a yawn. ‘It’s far too early for you to be in here.’ I raised my hands above my head, stretching, pretending I didn’t see his gaze flicker down my body as I did. I dropped my arms and walked away, sitting before the dressing table as I began brushing out my hair. ‘I don’t know how you think summoning all these aristocrats is going to help us.’

‘That’s because you’re a brilliant survivor, but you lack vision.’

I scoffed at the suggestion. ‘Why, just because I’m not as reckless as you are?’

He appeared behind me in the mirror as he took a hold of the brush and gently pried it from my fingers, before beginning to brush my hair himself, his movements slow. My scalp prickled.

‘You never should have invited them here,’ I added, my tone softening.

I felt his fingers against the back of my neck as he lifted locks of my hair, holding them carefully as he pulled the bristles through. My skin thrummed as his hand slipped down my neck and lightly brushed my robe to the side, exposing the curve of my shoulder. He bent down and pressed a lingering kiss against it.

‘Irrelevant now,’ he murmured, and a shiver swept over me like a breeze, breathing life into the embers in my abdomen.

My eyelids fluttered closed and I allowed myself a single, slow breath, before I snatched a hair pin from the table and thrust it at him. ‘You can start pinning it up if you’re going to be in here.’

He straightened up and accepted the hairpin, his mouth cocked in a half-smile that said I hadn’t fooled him. ‘You like giving orders.’

‘My life would be far more peaceful if you’d only follow them every once in a while.’

‘You know what I find interesting about those who spend a lot of time giving orders?’

‘Something that will make me want to smack you, no doubt.’

Without warning, he yanked at my chair, and I shrieked as he dragged it out. Planting his hands on either arm, he leaned over me, and the embers flared brighter.

‘I find,’ he said, ‘that deep down, what they really want is to take them.’

‘I told you I’m not going to be the sort of wife who lays down and obeys,’ I said, my gaze flicking to his mouth. ‘And I meant it. So if that’s what you want, you’re going to be disappointed.’

‘I don’t want you to obey. But you’re obsessed with control.’ He drifted one hand up my arm and over that bare shoulder to slide up my neck, curling fingers in my hair. His gaze fixed on my lips. ‘What I want is to see you lose it.’ He leaned in, kissed me softly, like he was testing the waters. My resistance dissolved, my irritation discarded, at the feeling of his mouth on mine, and before long I melted into him, deepening the kiss, until he was pulling me from the chair and we tangled around each other.

He slipped a hand inside my robe and found my breast, caressing it through the thin fabric of my nightgown, before dragging down my neckline. He broke the kiss then, to watch as he massaged the newly exposed skin, his eyes dark.

‘We’re going to be late,’ I protested weakly as he tightened his hand, rolling his thumb over the bud of my nipple and sending a spike of pleasure thrumming along my nerves.

‘I don’t care,’ he said, before dropping his hands to my thighs and lifting me. I flung my arms around his neck as he spun me around. Several objects thudded to the floor as he deposited me on the hard surface of a side cabinet and our lips met again. I slid my hand down between us.

There was a sound, a scuffling of footsteps and the creaking of a door, followed by a gasp. I broke the kiss, coming back to myself with a lurch. So much for avoiding being seduced. Swallowing down the lust, I took a slow, shuddering breath and pulled away from Draven, adjusting my nightgown to cover myself as Leela muttered a string of apologies.

‘No, it’s alright. Come in, Leela.’ My voice was wobbly. I tried to extricate myself from him, and for a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t let me go. His expression was a little wild, dark-eyed and unsmiling, as I tried to shove him off. But finally, he relented and I slipped off the table, straightening myself up and willing away the hot flush in my cheeks. I crossed the room and perched back on the chair at the dressing table as I combed at my hair with my fingers.

Leela glanced uncertainly over at Draven, who was now leaning against the table with his arms folded as he stared at me.

‘I’ll come back later,’ she said.

‘Not at all. The day is already getting on and he was just leaving.’ I pretended I couldn’t see his reflection in the mirror, the way his eyes narrowed. I heard Leela take a breath, and then she was all business, entering the room like nothing had happened as she fussed about selecting what she would dress me in.

A hand took my chin gently and twisted my head until I was looking up at Draven, and he leaned in and placed a long, lingering kiss on my mouth.

‘Be ready to scare them,’ he murmured, before finally leaving. What was that supposed to mean?

Leela approached me and took over arranging my hair, and for a few minutes she worked silently. I dabbed rouge on my cheeks, more for something to do than because I needed it. My reflection was, as always, flawless.

‘You’ll want to be careful with that one,’ she said as she twisted and pinned.

I frowned at her. ‘He’s just a man. I can handle men.’

‘If I may, ma’am, it seems like he might be handling you.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

She stuck a few pins in my tresses, securing locks of thick, dark hair into her sculpture. ‘For someone so sharp, you can be a tad stubborn in refusing to see uncomfortable truths.’

I frowned at her in the mirror. ‘That’s a brazen thing to say to your queen.’

‘You once asked me for honesty,’ she replied simply, her focus still on her work as she ignored my glare. ‘And told me not to spare your feelings. So I’m only keeping my word.’

My instinct was towards indignation, but she was right. I had asked for honesty. And I had come to rely on her astute observations of everyone else at court. If she had an opinion, it was worth hearing. ‘I know I can’t trust him.’

She twisted a lock of hair around her finger and carefully coiled it to my head. ‘You are skilled at seeing threats where you expect them.’

‘If I can admit that I can’t trust him, then he’s hardly a blind spot.’

Taking a deep breath, she dropped her hands to my shoulders and met my eyes in the glass. ‘I once fell in love with a man I shouldn’t have,’ she said.

I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘He must have been something special. I would have thought you much too sensible for that sort of thing.’

She snorted. ‘I can get carried away as much as anyone.’

‘Go on then, tell me what it was about him that turned your very sensible head. Was he handsome or rich?’

She seemed to chew on her cheek for a moment, considering her answer before she spoke. ‘He had a clever tongue.’

‘That I can fully support.’ I grinned impishly and laughed as her eyes widened. She tugged playfully at a lock of my hair.

‘Not like that. He could make me laugh, or make me furious, or make me feel I might cry with love for him with just a few words.’ There was the gleam of a smile in her eyes. I tried to imagine her crying with love, tried to imagine the kind of man her paramour must have been, and I drew a blank. I couldn’t fathom letting a man have that much influence over my emotions. And anyway, I felt I already knew how this story would end. It was the way all such stories ended .

She seemed to shake herself from her reveries and set her fingers once again at my hair. ‘But he had a love of drink and gambling and all things that cause trouble. All his pretty promises of a life together fell to nothing when he fled the city to escape a debt. We were engaged, so you can guess who they came to call on when they wanted to collect.’

The words were at odds with her mild manner of speaking them, and I didn’t miss the hard set of her jaw and the tension around her eyes. ‘Which is why you decided to make your own way in the world,’ I finished for her, remembering the day she’d come to me and offered her services. ‘Since being married means being bound to someone else’s poor decisions.’

Surveying the array of ornaments on the table, she selected a flower of fiery red beads attached to a long, sharp prong and slipped it into my hair. She regarded the style for a few moments, tilting her head this way and that before she gave a little nod of satisfaction. She caught me watching her in the mirror and smiled. ‘There’s much to be said for forging your own path. It’s why I admire you so.’

She left me to poke around in the armoire, and I felt unexpectedly choked with emotion, my chest warm and full of something ready to spill into my eyes. I swallowed it down, cleared my throat. ‘I appreciate the tale, Leela, but I don’t think Draven is a gambler,’ I said when I was sure my voice would be even.

She returned and held up a row of earrings for my inspection. I chose a pair of rich, gleaming emeralds set in gold, and she gently plucked them from their box, sending a shower of rainbow droplets spilling across her face as they caught the light .

‘Maybe, maybe not,’ she said, placing the earrings in my outstretched palm. ‘But the point of this tale is not a warning against gambling. The point is that wolves look much like dogs when they’re curled up before a hearth.’ Briefly, she grasped my hand between both of her own. ‘You’ve a hunger for a challenge, but don’t let it be your undoing. Just be wary. I have a bad feeling about him.’ She dropped my hand and the subject all at once, instead picking up a piece of gossip about Lord Terame being seen with a new mistress.

I thought about Leela and her former lover as she chattered, wondering at the blank spaces around what little she’d told me. Who had she been, before he came along and taught her heartbreak? I didn’t remember a time when I hadn’t expected every dog to be a wolf, and innocence was hard enough to come by in the Trough. But if I squinted and stretched, I could almost imagine a younger, softer version of her. One who had believed in love. Then the image in my head began to blur with a memory of Gwinellyn cringing away from Lord Boccius as he berated her, and I dropped the thought.

I didn’t disagree with the heart of Leela’s warning. She was right to be wary of love and all the fool things it led people to do. She was right to be wary of Draven. But I wasn’t stupid enough to fall in love with him, or anyone else for that matter. But being loved, on the other hand, was a different story. That had made me a queen.

What would Draven do for someone he loved?

I dreamed of bending him to my will as Leela helped me dress, of brandishing him as a weapon against my enemies, of probing the potential and the limits of the strange magic he wielded and depending on it as though it was my own. It was true that he was mercurial and had so far proven more likely to manipulate than to be manipulated, but I could feel that I might gain some ground on him, might locate little footholds that would help me scale the wall of his defences. After all, his reaction to me might be just as heady and potent as mine was to him. None of that indicated that I was in the sort of danger Leela had warned against.

I knew what I was doing.

The guests rose as I approached, hundreds of eyes following me as I paraded down to the lawn where long tables had been positioned. They whispered as I passed, hissing like snakes, but every face was a smile when my gaze fell on it. I would try to ignore the hostility, even though it made me feel tense, like I might need to run at any moment.

Draven could have all the noble families in the kingdom swear their allegiance until the next god fell from the sky, it wouldn’t mean a whit unless they were given a powerful incentive to support him. What was more, bringing them all here only gave them an opportunity to conspire together, as far as I was concerned.

Then of course there was the matter of Dovegni. I knew better than to believe he’d let what he said in the sanctum go. Was there a trap even now waiting to spring shut around me? It was foolhardy to invite any more complications into our midst when he still hadn’t been dealt with.

But even with my resolution to watch them all carefully, the only one I watched as I made my way to the head table was Draven .

The way he lounged there, alert and casually languid at once, ushered in a sense of foreboding that nibbled at my insides. His dark hair curled around his face and he slowly tapped his long fingers against the tabletop as he watched my approach, his presence demanding attention. Admittedly, he looked every bit the king he was presenting himself to be, and I was overcome by the premonition that there was more to this little party than he’d told me. There was an eager brightness in his eyes and a tension around his shoulders that seemed anticipatory, like a cat stalking a mouse. Either he shared more of my apprehension about bringing all these nobles together than he let on, or he was hiding something.

I sat beside him in the centre of the long table, and the rest of the gathering reclaimed their seats. I couldn’t believe we were going to feed them all. It must be costing a fortune.

‘Are you ever on time?’ Draven drawled as I settled myself.

‘Imagine how much later I might have been.’ I offered him a coquettish smile. And since I could never resist riling him, I touched my coiffure. ‘Didn’t Leela do a wonderful job with my hair? Completely worth the time it took. I couldn’t do without her. It’s such a godsend to have her help every morning.’

The weight of a hand slid up my knee. ‘You have too much faith in my adherence to social niceties, my dear,’ he murmured, leaning a little closer. His fingers roamed higher, seeking out boundaries, the moment that would make me clamp my legs tightly shut and suck in a gasp. ‘I would fuck you in front of this entire court. Don’t rely on the presence of your maid as a deterrent next time.’

Yanking my leg away from him, I shot him a dark scowl, but he only looked amused. The cad. After all the anxiety he’d caused me by arranging this event, the least he could do was take it seriously .

I rearranged my expression, shook off the heat those words had summoned, and surveyed the assemblage with suspicion. ‘Is this the part where they all swear their loyalty, then?’

‘Something like that.’

‘I hope you know what oaths of loyalty from these people are worth,’ I muttered. ‘Hardly the air needed to speak them, let alone an elaborate celebration.’

‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as resolutely cynical as you.’ He was watching me in a way that was far too intimate for a public place.

‘Cynics aren’t born, they’re made. And you’re in the middle of a political pantomime, so can you please stop reading me and focus on everyone else?’

‘But I don’t find any of them half as interesting.’

I picked up a knife from my cutlery set and twirled it in my fingers. ‘That, dear husband, is beside the point. Since you invited all the vipers here, you can be damn well sure that you’ll be responsible for supervising them.’

He laughed like I was joking, before reaching out and tapping a finger on my forehead. I flinched away, practically hissing. ‘It must hurt your head, to have it scrunched up like that all the time,’ he said, then he rose to his feet and offered me his hand.

I eyed it. ‘What are you doing? Lunch is about to be served.’

‘I think lunch can wait.’

I looked back over the tables, at those who were glancing at us to those who were blatantly staring with open curiosity. ‘We can’t leave them.’

‘Don’t worry, they’re coming too.’

I didn’t like the gleam in his eyes or the smile skulking around his mouth, but I took the offered hand.

He beckoned to the announcer. ‘Tell them their lunch will wait. They’re to follow us to the menagerie now.’

The announcer’s brow furrowed.

‘Say it just like that,’ Draven said.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ I said, before addressing the boy myself. ‘Apologise for the delay but tell them the king has a marvellous surprise for them.’ The announcer nodded and moved to the edge of the dais to relay the message. ‘I don’t want to just be towed along behind you while you do whatever you want,’ I said. ‘I want to be consulted. Whatever you have planned, it had better be worth a court full of cranky aristocrats who are late for their next meal.’

He brought my hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss against my skin. ‘Don’t fret, my dear. It will be.’

I slipped my hand out of his and gestured towards the menagerie as the rest of our guests began to rise to their feet. ‘Then let’s get it over with.’

‘Do you ever hesitate?’ he asked suddenly, and his gaze grew more serious. ‘Or are you always running full pelt into the line of fire?’

The question stalled me, and I blinked at him for a few moments, bewildered. Did I do that? ‘I’m not some idiot who goes plunging into danger,’ I said finally. ‘I’d rather be alive than fearless. But there’s no use hesitating when you can’t avoid something. Better to get a head start and learn what you’re up against fast.’

He stared at me for a pause, seeming to consider my answer. It made me want to fidget and I played with the hem of my sleeve. Then he swept his arm out, gesturing me onwards.

‘After you.’

The crush of the entire court, of members of every noble household in the kingdom, poured down the gardens towards the enormous glass house that contained the palace’s collection of exotic animals. I’d never been in there. I’d never liked the sight of things in cages.

The menagerie was stuffy, the air overladen, and it was only going to get more so as people poured into it, though it was easily as big as the grand ballroom. It was also full of dark, glossy plants with engorged leaves and vines that wound all over the walls and ceiling, dappling the light. There were cages everywhere: dangling from the ceiling, perched on clawed feet, running the length of the room and half-obscured by plants.

A small cage by the entrance, the size of a teapot, seemed only to hold a pile of sand. But when I peered closer, a pair of wicked pincers shot up at me. I jumped back, a shudder running over me.

Nagwis.

‘A cage suits you,’ I told it, remembering all too well the burn of pain tearing through my leg and deciding to move deeper into the building.

One of the larger cages held a creature that resembled a hairless wolf with a long, sinuous tale that ended in a spikey club. It let out a low grow, puffs of smoke billowing from its nostrils, as the crowd approached.

Draven led us through the jungle, through the jumble of cages and plants and the trilling calls of dozens of different animals. Few courtiers paid overly much attention to the cages—they’d clearly seen what the menagerie had to offer before. Though I did notice one young man leave his wife’s arm and stare into a pond where a colossal fish was swimming round and round in endless circles. The expression on his face was one of pity, of sadness, and it drew my attention for a moment because it was so unexpected.

But as we approached an enormous cage on the far wall of the menagerie, it was impossible to focus on anything else. This one was almost as high as the roof of the glass house, wide and deep enough to hold a hundred people comfortably. There was a mountain of rocks stacked around a dark cave-like space, deep enough that I couldn’t see what was inside it.

Draven stood before the cage, facing the room and waiting for everyone to gather. I stood beside him and tried to look like I knew what was going on.

‘Care to explain the surprise?’ I whispered. But he didn’t answer me, and as the last of the courtiers drew near, he began to speak.

‘You don’t know much about me,’ he began, projecting his voice across his audience. Every whisper died away as all attention fixed on him. Because he was right, they didn’t know much about him. They wanted to know who this new king was. What life would be under his rule. How he could be influenced. Many wouldn’t have even heard his voice until that moment. How he carried himself now could decide how much they would fight him. Would fight me.

‘So I thought I’d begin by presenting a gift. An explanation for the missing princess.’

I stiffened, but kept my gaze on the audience, listening just as intently as they were. What was he doing?

A group of palace soldiers walked through the centre of the crowd, flanking a bound and gagged figure. He was grimy and dishevelled, and without one of the flamboyant waistcoats he usually favoured, it took me a beat to recognise who he was.

‘What is this?’ I hissed at Draven through a mechanical smile.

His face was a mask. ‘Retribution.’

There was still a haughtiness about Lord Boccius as he was led through the crowd, even dressed in the grey of prison garb with his hands manacled behind him. When his gaze travelled to Draven, his expression contorted into one of such fierce hatred that he was almost unrecognisable. I could never have imagined Lord Boccius as the sort of man inclined to physical violence, but in that moment, if his hands had been free, I was sure he would have attacked someone. He stopped before the cage, and one of the soldiers put a hand on his shoulder, forcing the big man to his knees. With a jolt, I realised the soldier was Lester. The mysterious half-brother. He stayed by the kneeling lord’s side, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

‘What treason,’ Draven said lazily as he paced towards Boccius and looked down into his glower. ‘To strike against the palace from within its very walls.’ When he turned his attention to the gathered courtiers, they were completely still and silent, staring at him with rapt attention, open-mouthed and wide eyed. ‘Evidence has surfaced that this man, Lord Boccius, High Lord of Taveron, president of your High Council and cousin to the princess herself, is a traitor.’ The crowd began muttering to each other as Boccius curled his lip around the gag to show just how much weight he gave to the accusation. Draven gestured at Lester, and in a movement so smooth it might have been practiced, the soldier drew his sword and handed it to him. I inhaled sharply as Draven angled the blade at the kneeling lord, and Boccius blinked rapidly as he processed the sword tip hovering before his nose, as though he’d never seen one before.

‘I charge you with collaborating with Creatia, and with assisting a team of Creatish spies to kidnap the princess.’

Immediately, Boccius started to grunt and growl, trying to speak around his gag as he struggled with his shackles. Lester pushed him down to the floor again as he attempted to rise.

‘I have a signed confession from one of the spies,’ Draven continued as the noise of the crowd died down again. He pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out as though daring someone to take it and verify the claim. ‘The intention was to take her to Novaros and hold her there until King Theron could marry her and stake a claim on her throne. He promised our Lord Boccius the position of governor in exchange.'

Boccius was rapidly shaking his head, his jaw moving like he was hoping to bite through the gag.

‘Too bad the princess never made it to Creatia, since she perished on the journey,’ Draven continued casually, and several of the crowd cried out at the shock of the words. The man I’d seen staring in the pond clapped a hand over his mouth.

What a farce. What was he playing at? I could understand the need for offering some sort of explanation for Gwinellyn’s disappearance, but why frame Creatia? The gathered crowd were murmuring. I could see expressions ranging from shock, to outrage, to suspicion. Creatia was an ally. We had been allied with them since the treaty of Wenderstad. We endorsed that treaty every ten years to ensure peace would reign between the three kingdoms. Would they risk such peace so boldly? And in a plan so ill-thought out that the princess had apparently died during its execution?

It was an outrageous lie. But in the absence of another explanation, would the court swallow it? What a stupid, dangerous gamble. What a stupid, dangerous gamble to make without consulting me .

But the energy in the room began to rise, turning so fast it was almost unnatural. The shock was boiling, becoming hissing, then jeering, and I watched on in fascinated horror as with so little prompting, the nobles turned on one of their own. I scanned the crowd looking for those who would support the kneeling lord. Where were the other members of the council? Where was his wife? The creatures in the surrounding cages began screeching and huffing, the hairless wolf pacing the cage restlessly, and it suddenly felt difficult to breathe. It was too hot, the air too heavy with the smell of animal and sweat and something vaguely smoky.

Draven nodded his head at Lester, who yanked Boccius to his feet.

‘Let this serve as a warning,’ he said, his voice cutting through the din like a knife as Boccius was shoved forwards, towards the cage behind us. ‘The crown offers no mercy to traitors.’

That jolted me out of my freeze. The sense of premonition I’d had walking down the lawn matured into full-blown doom as I grasped a sudden, horrible notion of what he was about to do. I snatched at Draven’s arm. ‘He needs to be tried and sentenced.’

He turned to me, and there was something in his face that I didn’t like. Something grim, something vicious . ‘Why?’ he said, but it didn’t sound like a question.

‘Because there are laws that govern the way things are done. You can’t just do whatever you want! ’

The door to the cage was wrenched open, and a struggling Boccius was shoved hard between the shoulders until he was sent stumbling through. I flinched as the door was slammed behind him.

‘I’m going to tell you something, and if you still want him released when you hear it, I’ll release him,’ Draven said, his voice low. ‘He’s the High Lord of Taveron. Do you know it?’

‘Of course! What does this have to do with anything?’

‘It’s an estate that borders the Yawn, so the blights make it pretty unproductive. Yet it’s thriving, its lord is rich, and it’s kept in the hands of the royal line. Why do you think that might be?’

Boccius was making a bunch of unintelligible noises as he tried to drag the gag out of his mouth by rubbing his chin on his shoulder, but I wasn’t focused on him anymore. I’d caught sight of movement in the mouth of the cave.

‘Get to your point before whatever lives in there tears him apart!’ My voice was louder than I meant it to be, but it was drowned out as a low, rumbling growl filled the air.

‘He sells access ,’ Draven pressed, like whatever he was talking about was more terrible than the head of the creature that was peering out of the dark of the cave. There was something feline in the curves of its skull, but it had a nose flat like a lizard, and enormous yellow eyes that were fixed on the intruder in its cage. ‘He provides support for entering the Yawn and runs an industry built on whatever comes out of it.’

‘Draven, this is ludicrous, he’s—’

‘ Binders , Rhiandra,’ he hissed as the creature slunk out of the dark, revealing a ruff of long, wicked thorns running down the back of its neck and a pair of wings folded into its sides. ‘ Taveron trains Binders. That snivelling excuse for a lord grows fat and rich off grooming the sort of men who burned you.’

Boccius had turned his back to the door and was pressing himself against the cage like he could somehow squeeze his way through the bars. Behind us, the nobles were strangely quiet, but I didn’t know if it was because they weren’t making noise, or if my heart was pounding so loudly that I couldn’t hear them. The sort of men who burned you. A feeling of remembered helplessness hissed through my veins as phantom heat scorched my skin. The taste of dirt in my mouth, of blood, the spectre of cruel laughter in my ears, hands with dirty fingernails gripping me too tight. A shard of fury pierced the memory, fury that I could feel so helpless again, even for a moment, with just a reminder of the attack.

The creature was sloping across the cage, those unnerving eyes fixed on what had clearly become prey as it took a wide track towards him, like it wanted to catch him from behind. Boccius had a hold of the bars in his manacled hands and was shaking them madly, letting out a low, keening whine.

‘We need to show them we don’t play by the rules they took for granted,’ Draven continued. ‘They’ll think carefully about challenging us after this.’

There was no way all the assembled nobles would let this happen to one of their own. Someone would want to protest, to step forward and demand a public trial and a more humane punishment. Then it occurred to me that perhaps the compliance of the crowd was more than shock. If I focused, I could perhaps pick out the smell of magic mixed in with the heavy scents of animal. Perhaps I was the only person who could step forward and make those demands .

But I didn’t. Something inside me, something that sat right beneath the memories of the attack, of the burning, sealed my lips.

I turned.

There was a heavy thud behind me, a muffled scream.

And I was walking away.

Even as I felt the horror of it slithering around in my stomach, making me nauseated and dizzy, I pushed passed the dazed courtiers as they clustered around, their expressions strangely mild as they bore witness to the gruesome execution. None of them reacted to me passing by, not even to glance my way, as if I was a phantom instead of their queen.

I sucked in a deep, slow breath as I emerged from the menagerie and stood still while I waited for my head to stop spinning, trying to settle the tide of emotion that had risen and choked my airway. A man was being eaten back there, I reminded myself, trying to find some pity in me.

But all I felt was rage.