Page 84 of Heart of Shadows

He gestured around. “The court.” He sighed, and his next words spoke into her mind. “I thought this would be a place of fair rule, a pinacle of our society, but instead, I found it to be the deepest cesspit of sin imaginable.”

Harper frowned at him. He seemed so at odds with the detestable, predatory, dark male she had first encountered. Were the hidden depths he was allowing her to see now a calculated choice? Some kind of deception? “You’re the king’s spymaster. Surely you are amongst the worst of them all?”

His face clouded and eyes darkened. “I’ve done what I needed to survive.”

“What have you done?” she dared to ask, her breath stalling, though based on her encounters with the king and the hospitality of his dungeon, she truly did not wish to know the depths of his depravities.

“Things you cannot even imagine. I will not speak of them, least of all to you. Do not think that because we dine together and I clothe you, that I am your ally, Harper of Caledan.” Dimitrius stood stiffly and scowled at her. “Good night.” He tossed his napkin onto his unfinished plate of food and strode from the table, down the corridor and out of hearing, until she heard a door slam in the distance.

Harper stared after him for a long moment before abandoning her own plate and slipping into her room. Just when she thought she had something figured out, away it slipped again, like smoke between her fingers.

Harper wore her new cloak to the next audience with Toroth, this time in the royal gardens that she had walked through the other night with Dimitrius. They were stunningly beautiful in the daylight. If Harper had been at leisure to view them, she might have admired the precisely shaped bushes and the delicate way flowers intertwined for a heady mix of scents and fierce colour. Perhaps she would have even noticed the artificial warmth, heated by the magic of the king to keep summer for just a while longer. Harper saw none of it. Toroth stood so close beside her, she could have reached out and touched him. Of course, she did not dare, and stood like one of the garden’s statues, buzzing with nerves, waiting to hear what he would ask of her. This meeting had not been anticipated, and it confirmed Harper’s worst fears—that for some reason, the king did not find her beneath his attention.

Dimitrius had not been invited, but he lurked not too far away, listening. For that, she was grateful. Despite his outburst the night before, he seemed determined to see them both out of this predicament, though Harper had the feeling she did not know the half of it.

“What do you know of Lord Ellarian, girl?”

Harper stiffened at Toroth’s words, her heart thundering into life. It was not what she had expected, nor what she and Dimitrius had practiced. “Not much, sire,” she said after taking a steadying breath she hoped he did not notice. As seemed to be his way, he glared at her until she continued. “He is a lord, and I am nobody,” she said, hoping he would find that acceptable. It was true, after all.

The king did not need to know how he snapped at her when she brushed a nerve, or how he had been kind to her when she was scared, or how he insisted that she eat well at every meal. The king did not need to know how it made her feel when Dimitrius offered her safe quarters, or when he slammed her against a wall filled with wrath, or rushed to steady her when she was so tired she could no longer stand. She supposed Dimitrius was much kinder than he had first appeared, but the nature of the court made her wonder whether it, too, was just an act, and whether the truth of his character lay in the darkest of his conduct with her. Everything there seemed to be a lie—and Dimitrius had said it himself, he was not her ally.

“That is all?” Toroth raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the torrent of thoughts and emotions washing through her.

“Yes, sire.”

He stared at her with an intent focus that made her squirm. “And would you say Lord Ellarian is trustworthy?”

“I have no grounds on which to speak of him, Your Majesty. He has never borne me ill, if that is what you mean, and everything he asks of me is for your employ.”

Toroth narrowed his eyes. Harper could see his interest was fading. Good. I’m useless. Dismiss me! Self-consciously, she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears, which promptly flopped loose again.

Toroth’s eyes followed her wrist as the loose sleeve fell back, and his attention locked upon the shine of metal there. “Where does a girl like you afford a bracelet like that?”

A rush of terror flooded Harper’s body. She tucked her arm under the cloak as subtly as she dared, though her heart hammered. “It’s an old trinket, sire. It’s nothing. Just a scrap of leather and a bead.”

“You did not steal it, girl? Lord Ellarian would certainly disapprove of a thief in his employ. Let me see it.”

“It is unworthy of your great attention,” she squeaked and shrank away, clutching at the folds of her cloak in panic.

“I command it.”

“Your Majesty.” Dimitrius seemed to appear from nowhere. Relief rushed through Harper. “I beg your forgiveness. May I have a word with the girl? I have some urgent business for her to attend.”

“Of course,” said Toroth, but as Harper turned away with a wordless glance of appreciation at Dimitrius, Toroth snatched her wrist. She squealed and wriggled in his iron grasp, but he tightened his grip until her arm screamed with the pain. Inexorably, he pulled her closer and lifted her by her arm to examine the worn leather strap and tarnished silver bead.

“Hmmph,” he said, pursing his lips. “This is nothing.”

“I am unworthy of your notice,” said Harper, biting down on her lip to stop herself crying out in pain as he held her arm up, straining her shoulder.

Toroth started to lower her arm when his eyes grazed over the metal, catching on the crudely stamped mark upon the bead. In an instant, he threw Harper away, as if burned by her touch. She landed in a jumbled heap upon the ground.

“Saradon-cursed traitor,” Toroth growled and prowled toward her, magic erupting at his fingers.

Dazed and winded, Harper could do naught but watch him approach. With a jagged jab of his splayed fingers toward her, pain assaulted her, until Dimitrius stepped between them.

“Sire,” he started.

“Did you know she possessed that—that filth?” Toroth rounded on Dimitrius, shaking with anger. Spittle flew from his mouth with every word.

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