Page 59 of Her Dark Reflection

‘You made me a widow,’ I said without inflection.

He cocked his head to the side. ‘You have made your own choices.’

‘You should have told me what that apple would do.’ I picked my way down the steps one at a time until I was standing just above him, and he was still tilting his head to look up at me.

‘Would you have done anything differently if I had?’

‘Maybe, maybe not. But it should have been my decision to make myself a murderer.’

He took a step, placing himself level with me, so that I was my usual head shorter. ‘His death was a foregone conclusion,’ he said. ‘It was his life or yours. Enchanted love is ravenous, Vixen. It seeks to consume without ever being sated. He would have wanted more and more of you until, eventually, there was nothing left.’

An icy quiver skated down my spine. ‘Yet another detail you should never have kept from me.’

‘I don’t remember you refusing my deal for lack of information. Don’t play the victim, Rhiandra. It doesn’t suit you. And you have more important things than self-pity to occupy your mind.’

With a sigh, I glanced around the hall, checking that we were still alone. It was a stark, brightly lit place to play host to a body, with white light streaming in from the tall, narrow windows lining the walls on either side, and I imagined how harsh I must look in contrast, all cloaked in black as I was. ‘I have a funeral to attend, so you’d better get to your point.’

Something flickered across his face, like darkness shredding at a candle flame, making it gutter and spit. His lips twitched, his jaw ticked, and his nostrils flared. ‘You weren’t so desperate to be rid of me last time I visited. Unless you miss your husband?’

I snorted and descended the dais to walk the floor, and I heard as Draven fell into step behind me. The memory of our last encounter stirred from its caged slumber, but I quickly smothered it, putting it back to rest, but not before it sent a smirk slithering over my mouth. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous,’ I shot over my shoulder.

‘You have become too used to being desired. Don’t conflate me with the other sops you have panting after you.’

I stopped and spun on my heel to face him, my pride smarting. ‘Draven,’ I said, my voice low, ‘what do you want?’

He stopped with me. A shaft of sunlight caught the top of his head, bringing out warm hues of bronze in his dark hair. ‘To ensure you understand your next move. You can keep the throne in your grasp now, but you’ll need to act fast and smart. Princess Gwinellyn can’t rule until she comes of age. As her stepmother, you’re an obvious regent, but there will be others jostling for the position.’

Chewing my lip, I considered this. ‘I’ll need someone to back my claim,’ I said slowly.

‘Several someones.’

The metallic clang of the bells in Taveum’s spire rang the hour, the sound dissolving into the quiet of the sanctum. I cast my eyes around the room, across the frescos decorating the walls, depicting the fall of Aether and his resurrection into the sky. The god’s flaming eyes blazed down at me from above the door, and while I’d never been devout, I felt as though he was watching me, taking my measure, issuing judgement from his holy perch. The doors themselves remained shut, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

‘Right,’ I said, my gaze flicking back to Draven. ‘I know what to do.’

His mouth twitched. ‘You always do.’

I studied him, looking for some hint in his expression of what had passed between us at the ball, a trace of possibility that he had come for more than to steer me onwards. It felt strange, to stand with him in sunlight, with no shadows to hide behind. Had he thought about it? Did the memory of his hands on me steal upon him in vulnerable moments, no matter how he tried to push it away? Was there something between us that I could leverage after all? I had always relied upon my ability to predict what those around me wanted, to scent weaknesses and massage them to my advantage. But for all the sunlight highlighting the sharp angles of his face, he was so inscrutable to me that we may as well have been standing in the dark.

Perhaps it had meant nothing to him after all.

‘Of course, you’ll just swan in with your third apple and ruin everything,’ I said, trying to disperse the tension of our silence.

‘Ruineverything?’ he repeated, narrowing his eyes. ‘I didn’t realise you were enjoying playing happy families so much. Particularly when you told me you were afraid of your husband.’

‘My point is that you ought to tell me who your third apple is for so I can plan for it.’ I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, letting a smile shimmer at the corners of my mouth. ‘We could be partners, you and I. You don’t have to keep all these secrets from me.’

He was silent for a long, long moment, as he held my gaze. He reached for me. My heart stuttered, but he only tapped his fingers beneath my chin. ‘Don’t wear black for too long. It’s doesn’t flatter your complexion.’

I scowled, spinning away from him and striding the rest of the way through the sanctum and out the door without a backwards glance. Arrogant, callous, manipulativeprick. I hoped someone found him in there and arrested him on suspicion of tampering with a corpse.

My attendants flocked to me, fluttering about offering water and fans and sweetmeats, and for once I welcomed their incessant chatter. I didn’t want silence when my thoughts were altogether too inflamed right now, throbbing away inside my head. If I was honest with myself, I had never expected this deal to lead me here. Murder was not what I had bargained for. And if I was given the silence I so wanted to avoid, I might speculate on whether what I’d gained was worth the price. I might speculate on whether I would do the same again, given what I knew now.

Such banal reflections were, of course, completely pointless. What was done was done. And as I was led into a powder room for a final fixing of my appearance and saw that exquisite face, the one that had seduced a king, I suspected that I knew the answer.

King Linus the Third was to be paraded through the streets of Lee Helse. People had been pouring into the city in the days prior and the winding lanes and carriageways were choked with folk hoping to catch a glimpse of the funeral procession. The people wore purple, or waved it from their windows, or clutched bouquets of the colour, to show their respect for the crown.

At least, some people did.

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