Page 55 of Her Dark Reflection

‘Not if you cooperate.’

I glanced around uneasily, noting the way the eyes of those around us were conveniently turned in another direction as I caught the sharp, charcoal whiff of gunpowder in the air. Licking my lips, I allowed myself to be dragged along behind him.

The shadows of a dim hallway swallowed us up as soon as we left the light of the ballroom. Our footsteps against the stone engulfed the silence of the hall and I pulled my hand from his grip, my fingers thrumming where he’d touched me.

He stopped by a door and tried the handle, peering inside when it clicked open, then ushering me in and closing it behind us. I found myself standing in a parlour lined with dark wood panelling. The fireplace was unlit, the enormous mirror hanging above the mantel dark, and the far end of the room housing a spiral staircase that led to a small gallery overlooking the room.

The gloom only added to the sinister look on Draven’s face.

‘Are you thinking of breaking our bargain?’ he asked, his voice containing the quiet menace of a viper.

I thrust up my chin and donned my most regal expression. ‘I think you owe me an explanation before I deliver your next apple for you. I want to know what it will do.’

He gripped my defiant chin and held my head in that position as he glowered at me. ‘I owe you nothing. Don’t forget who gave you this life, this face.’ He took a hold of my upper arm and dragged me towards the fireplace, fixing me in front of the mirror. Our reflections blinked back at us; a beautiful woman dressed as a queen, a dark man clutching her shoulders from behind. And then suddenly, that beautiful woman was gone. Mottled skin, shiny scar tissue, missing hair. I cringed away from the sight. ‘I can withhold my end just as easily. And then what will happen to you, Vixen? How will you explain this to your new husband?’

‘You’ve made your point,’ I said, dropping my eyes away from my reflection and trying to shrug him off me.

‘Have I?’ he hissed, his breath chasing the loose hair at the nape of my neck, sending a thrill shivering down my spine. ‘I hope so. Don’t cross me, Rhiandra.’ He released me and I jerked away from him, smoothing at my hair and clothes as my reflection shifted back, hiding the scars again. I saw him watching me in the mirror, his expression strange.

‘For what it’s worth,’ he said after a moment of tense silence, ‘being queen suits you.’ He took a lock of hair that had fallen from my coiffure and carefully pinned it back in place, his hands lingering.

My heartbeat felt too light, too fast as I turned away from the mirror to look up at him. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘Not that you could do it. But perhaps by how well you wear it.’

I wanted to say something sharp, something clever, but there was too little space between us to leave room for wit, and for once he wasn’t smirking.

‘The king is starting to frighten me.’ The admission fell out of my mouth, barely a whisper.

Something flickered in his expression. ‘Not for much longer.’

The murmur of voices sounded at the door, and panic jolted through me.

‘We can’t be caught in here together,’ I whispered, my gaze darting around the room for an escape. I fixed on the gallery and pushed Draven towards the spiral staircase. ‘Get moving!’

His mouth quirked, but he gave in to my urging and we climbed the staircase just as the latch clicked and the door swung open. The gallery was furnished with little in the way of places to hide. There was a row of hard benches for viewing the room below and little else, but it was full of deep shadow so I pressed myself against the wall, praying whoever was down there wouldn’t look up. Draven followed, though I had the distinct impression he was humouring me.

‘…for dragging me in here. The king is relying on me tonight.’ I recognised the voice of Prince Tallius; he sounded irritated.

‘Forgive us, Your Royal Highness, we wouldn’t accost you such if it were not of vital importance.’ Those slow, wheezy words sounded like they came from Lord Sherman, one of the members of the council, and my ears immediately pricked. He was the one who paid household accounts, which was why I knew him at all. He’d muttered curses at Leela upon receiving the bills for my remodelling. What could that old codger want with the prince of Oceatold in an empty saloon?

I might have been able to guess if Draven had not distracted me by whispering ‘oh my, vital importance’ into my ear while he grazed his fingertips up my arm, rendering my brain completely incapable of rational thought.

‘Come out with it then. It’s bad enough that Linus is making a mockery of his court by parading his whore around the ballroom. The last thing this kingdom needs is for their future king to be absent.’

Draven stilled beside me. ‘Maybe I should curse him,’ he growled.

‘Quiet,’ I urged, ‘I want to hear this.’ It was interesting Tallius was already referring to himself as the future king when no engagement to the princess had been formalised.

‘The whore is precisely why we have asked you here.’ The cold, clipped tone of the third voice made me grit my teeth. Dovegni. ‘Her influence over his majesty is troubling. His decision to marry her was out of character.’

The prince barked a laugh. ‘I’ve had reports that she is meddlesome. But come, Dovegni, don’t tell me some gutter snipe is resisting your influence. You’ve had Linus in your pocket for as long as I can remember.’

There was a beat of silence. ‘She is shrewder than one would expect of a woman of her… character.’

‘He called you shrewd, my dear. Where would he get that idea?’ Draven took my hand and brought it to his lips, his voice barely louder than a breath. In the gloom, I could make out little more than his silhouette, his broad shoulders, the glint of his eyes. ‘Look at you, confounding the kingdom’s most powerful men. You were wasted in the streets.’ He turned my hand over and kissed my palm, then my wrist.

‘So, what do you want of me?’ The prince’s words were prickly, and I could imagine the expression of disdain on that handsome face.

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