Basten catches it easily and flicks his thumb to pop open the snap to unsheathe it.
Rian’s face pales another shade.
“Wait!” he cries, hands out defensively as he scrambles to slide away from Basten, but he can’t roll onto his side with his damaged arm. “Fuck, Wolf— Basten, I mean— Are you really going to kill a man with your dick out?”
“Sure.” Basten, unbothered, stalks toward him, but in that same instant, Rian’s helpless act vanishes. Of course, it was always an act. There’s never been anything helpless about Rian.
He manages to get his feet underneath him and shoves a knee in the air right into Basten’s exposed groin.
Basten lets an ungodly curse rip as he drops the knife and doubles over, clutching his balls.
Rian rolls onto his left side and pushes to his feet, cradling his right arm to his chest, eyes flashing with that Valvere cunning.
He kicks the knife across the floor, out of Basten’s reach.
While Basten is still doubled over, Rian and I both watch with held breaths to see where the knife stops—next to the map table.
We lock eyes.
I pull in a breath.
“Fuck,” he says.
We both dive for the knife, scrambling across the room, but just as my fingers graze it, he kicks it under the bed. He drops to his knees, cursing at the pain in his burned arm, as he scrambles under the bed.
I reach to grab the knife, too, but Basten is by my side in a second, shaking his head.
“I’ve got this—I owe him a world of hurt.” He grabs Rian’s ankles and jerks him out from under the bed, while Rian twists and kicks like a tantruming toddler. Basten is barefoot but manages to get a solid kick to Rian’s wounded side, and Rian yelps and curls inward.
“You gods-damned rat,” Basten seethes. “We hear that you’ve fought your way nearly to Duren, but you’ve actually been holed up here the whole time? Hiding in your own damn bedroom fireplace?”
“You’re king now…” Rian chokes out, eyes fluttering as he winces. “You’ll see. They give you books of secrets…so many places to hide in the castle…”
Basten snatches him by the back of the collar and drags him to his feet, then throws him against the bed like a knapsack. Rian collides with the edge of the mattress, gagging at the jolt of pain against his wound, but manages to catch himself and stagger to his feet.
I toss my hair back, holding my fists at my side.
“Coward,” I spit, the word flung like a blade.
Rian turns toward me—fluid, practiced, almost theatrical. His eyes drag down the length of me, slow and deliberate, and for a breath I think it’s just more of the same: that same insatiable look he always wore like a second skin. Cunning dressed up as lust.
But no.
This is different.
He isn’t just looking. He’s studying.
Why?” he demands. “Because I stayed? Instead of turning tail and running?”
“The city is burning because of you!” Fury seizes me, and I ball my fists, barely able to hold myself back from snatching up the nearest lantern and smashing it in his face.
Rian’s head tilts, curiosity flickering in his eyes. His gaze darts—quick, precise—to my ears, then my brow. So fast, most wouldn’t notice. But I do.
A spike of panic bolts through me. On impulse, I grab hold of the shell of my ear. Rounded. Human The glamour still holds.
And yet.
“Something’s different about you, songbird.” His voice is light, teasing—but his gaze pins me like an arrow. “Maybe being queen suits you.”
