Page 54 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Epilogue

T he doors swung open as I stormed through them, smacking against the walls in the opulent gold-trimmed chamber beyond. The man within looked up, grey eyes meeting and holding my glare. I planted my hands on my hips.

‘What did you do with him?’

Draven arched an eyebrow, continuing to run his thumb down the edge of the paper he was folding into a new facet of the construction on the table before him, a collection of soaring turrets and towers that formed a brightly-coloured palace. He’d taken to building things, lately. When we’d first crossed the Shifting Plains and found ourselves in Myrshda some months ago, we were so busy trying to establish ourselves here that we barely had time to sleep. But now, he built things. Out of paper. And he cooked, too.

‘What did I do with who?’ he asked. Though I was damn well sure he knew who.

‘The vizaar. Last night, he called me a scorch-faced harlot. This morning, he is gone.’ I folded my arms. ‘And you came to bed late.’ The royal vizaar had been happy enough tolerate me when I was only dealing with trade, but he had taken a distinct disliking to me since I had begun meddling in politics.

‘I didn’t kill him,’ Draven replied, placing the paper down and rising from his seat. ’He’s just decided to take a holiday.’ I remained tense and cross-armed as he approached. He was dressed in slack black trousers and a silk shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. Always so casual, despite the fact that we could afford to bask in as much luxury as we wanted since I’d cracked the trade route between Myrshda and Brimordia. But he only ever seemed amused by my penchant for finery.

‘And where is he going?’

He slid his hands onto my waist when I was within reach, though I didn’t soften at the contact. ‘The centre of the Shifting Plains.’

Of course he was. ‘How is he getting there?’

‘Very safely. He’s in a secure, tightly locked chest.’

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, exhaling a sigh. ‘And what condition is he in?’

He cocked his head, his mouth twitching. ‘He has a little less blood than he had yesterday, but all of his limbs and facial features, so he should count himself lucky.’

‘I don’t need you drawing attention by making people disappear,’ I said, tone heated. ‘I can’t gather information if everyone is too scared to talk to me.’ My magic use was casting enough suspicion already. As Draven’s lessons had bolstered my ability to control it, I had begun wielding it occasionally when I needed to inspire a little more fear in my opponents. Not too much, mind. It made me sick far quicker now than it once had. Magic wielders weren’t nearly so unusual in Myrshda, with the nomadic tribes of the Shifting Plains having long possessed strains of it and with no druthi trying to control its use, but wielding lightning was certainly a novelty that drew notice. That being said, trickles of druthi had begun making their way to Myrshda since Brimordia’s young queen had outlawed binding and weaving magic through blood harvest. My new trade route hadn’t helped that.

‘If you want them to stay alive, pick cleverer opponents,’ Draven replied, trailing his fingers up and down my arms. ‘The kind that do their research, so they know that not only are you driving all the trade across the Shifting Plains, but that people who cross you wind up dead.’

He was, as always, impossible to reason with on this particular point. ‘I thought we agreed you were going to work on your anger issues.’

‘I never said I would work fast.’

I couldn’t help softening now, losing my hold on the irritation I’d been so determined to pin him with. I couldn’t pretend that his viciously protective streak didn’t thrill me. Not that I’d ever say as much to him, since it caused so many problems. The last thing I needed to do was sanction it.

‘The sultan has finally agreed to support my investigation, though,’ I said, buzzing with satisfaction now. ‘I’ll have him signing on an official injunction against the blood market before the week is out.’ And when he did, Queen Gwinellyn, with her council full of Yoxvese and Morwarians, would be more willing to engage with him and the trade tariffs would ease. Well, that was what Leela had told me in her last letter.

Draven narrowed his eyes. 'That's because he likes you,' he drawled, and if a little something vicious had crept into his voice, I pretended not to notice. 'Don’t be too charming, my dear. You can’t marry this one to get him to do as you want.’

I lifted my chin, looked him in the eye. ‘Why not? It’s not like I’m married to you.’

There was just time to see that darker shade of wicked steal across his face before he was pulling me against him, his hand slipping up my neck, curling around it. ‘Every time you say that it makes me think you want me to tie you to our bed and do things to you that will make you forget no is even a word. Then when I ask you again, you’ll answer with that enthusiastic yes you know you want to give me.’

‘You’ve already tried that,’ I said, my reply breathy, anticipation racing through me. I loved it when he curled that possessive hand around my neck. Loved even more what he would do with me if I continued to provoke his need to grasp and hold and own. ‘It didn’t work.’

‘Well, if at first you don’t succeed.’ He leaned in, kissed me hard, and all thoughts of the vizaar jostling his way across the dessert faded. Because even if we were chased from Myrshda by a mob of angry politicians holding flaming torches, I knew we would survive it. We had survived worse, after all. We had survived each other.