The Reckless Reign (Book 3, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 36

Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
Four days after the attack.

Darragh frowned when he caught sight of the vase, empty of its flowers with just a bit of black soot smudged on the rim. I wondered if he could smell the tang of the cigarettes past the brine of the ocean beyond the open windows. It always sort of clung to Isla, faint and disguised behind perfumes and creams.

She'd argued that Darragh didn't pay attention to anything beyond his own scheming, but his gaze wasn't unkind as he caught sight of his younger sister.

I waited, my breath held, for him to say something about her smoking, but he didn't—he only offered us a small smile before he told Isla that she was needed elsewhere in the palace. An emissary from the visiting nation had arrived ahead of his sovereign and wanted to discuss some things with her. Isla's nose crinkled slightly at the tone in Darragh's voice, at the implication that she was to play hostess to strangers.

When she objected, citing me as a reason for her to delay her meeting, he only took up a place on my side. "I will escort Monroe." His hand on my elbow was a bit too tight for comfort as he said, "You should be off. You have other things to attend to. You can visit with your friend later."

Her friend.

As Isla looked at me, those jade eyes wide, I knew that was exactly what we were. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Your secret is safe with me. Annalise is safe with me. I willed those words into my eyes, into the curl of my lips as I said to Darragh, "We were just going to check on Cohen."

The king of Pellarmus nodded a farewell to his sister and then turned us, guiding me away from Isla and towards a staircase at the far end of the hall. We walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound my quiet whimpers of pain as we made our way down the stairs. Darragh kept in step with me, pausing to let me catch my breath when the pull of my stiches grew to be too much.

I was leaning against a wall, my palms pressed to the cool surface of it, when he said, "So, you're wearing it then."

I followed his gaze to the ring on my finger. I stiffened a little at the accusation in his voice. I didn't know Darragh, not beyond what Cohen had told me. I guess I owed him some gratitude, since he'd been the one to free us from Caine—but there was something about him, a cunning sort of air, that made me hesitate to call him anything more than a fragile ally. My distrust was only worsened by Isla's own feelings about him.

When I didn't respond, only balled my hand into a fist, Darragh said, "It's strange—because my spies told me your new king was clever. They called him a soldier. All of the reports hailed him as being someone I would need to watch out for. Someone who had been trained and taught to fight like I do. A great strategist, they said. He's a bastard that schemed his way onto a throne, after all. But then..." Darragh frowned, his eyes scanning me from head to foot. "That can't be true, can it?"

"What can't be true?" I pushed away from the wall, trying to ignore the bark of pain from my side as I turned back in the direction we'd been heading and continued towards the small medical ward.

His brows rose in response. As if he'd already forgotten what he'd said. Baiting me. He was baiting me. But, goddess, I was too damn tired to care.

I shook my head, careful to keep my eyes on the walkway ahead as I asked, "Why do you think Kai isn't a good strategist?"

"Because if he was, he wouldn't have handed you over so easily. A fatal mistake."

"You plan to use me against him?"

Darragh shrugged, his hand cold as it found my arm. Stabilizing, steadying—too close. All my life I'd been caged. I'd gone from cell to cell. And walking next to the king of Pellarmus, his callused hands gripping my forearm, was like standing at the mouth of yet another prison. That power in my blood thrummed—an answer to a question I was too afraid to ask myself.