It almost works. Sometimes Kazia thinks a brief, rude reply wouldn’t be too bad. Just to tell Vana to fuck off and stop bothering him.
Except then Vana might stop writing. Like clawing at a scab, Kazia can’t help checking the letter box every few days.
Kazia rereads the letter, committing it to memory, then tosses it in the fire. As it curls into the flames, Kazia turns to close the rat cage—where Cloud and Shoe peer from the open door. They’ve knocked some shavings onto the carpet below. Kazia extends his hand.
Their whiskers feather across his skin before Shoe clambers up his arm. Her claws tug at his sleeve. Kazia jumps, ticklish, when she settles up next to his neck, but holds still so Cloud can follow her up. They jostle for position as Kazia closes the cage.
Careful of his tiny passengers, Kazia detours to the outer door.
“Fetch Vaire for me,” Kazia orders the drasgard on duty. She doesn’t blink at the rats, just bows and signals to another guard down the hallway.
Kazia’s aerie board sits out on the low coffee table. He commissioned it from the same sculptor who carved the dragon statues by his fireplace, including an excessive number of sides. The board is set with traditional wyrms and wraiths today, in red garnet and purple quartz.
Settling cross-legged on the sofa, Kazia disengages the rats and deposits them next to the board. Cloud slides with clicking claws onto the game, investigating each piece. Shoe wanders across the rest of the table, probably hoping for missed crumbs.
Kazia moves pieces to the center of the board. Not in a standard pattern—this isn’t a game. He’s just trying to think, and maybe the visualization will help. Because for once, Kazia needs a proper plan.
The garnet wyrm monarch and consort represent his parents. Around them, Kazia arrays their allies. The armies, the navy, the dragon corps, most of the noble houses. He uses the garnet wraiths to represent neutral parties. The quartz wraiths to represent Imrik’s enemies, friends waiting to stab him in the back—the rest of the high houses. The western clans. The rogue mages. Kaiskara. Silaise. Fellrin. But they’re only that, Imrik’s enemies. Not Kazia’s allies.
Kazia’s allies are the quartz wyrms, and they’re few in number. There’s Kazia’s own loyal household, twenty-three altogether and not all of them soldiers. General Gabra is retired, but has her own fiefdom—and she’s grateful. House Bernek, maybe. House Tem appears reluctant, and they’re weak, anyway.
Shoe returns to the board, winding through the pieces without budging them.
Kazia sets down the quartz wyrm elemental. Lucien may be his best asset—an ally who doesn’t need to be persuaded. An ally who can’t betray him, unless Kazia miscalculates. Kazia doesn’t need to court Lucien with embezzled gifts. He can simply tell Lucien what to do, and Lucien will do it.
He just has to figure outwhathe wants Lucien to do, before the obedience enchantment wears off in three months.
And as Cloud attempts to chew on an aerie piece, the only possible paths become clear. Kazia doesn’t have the resources for a coup. Simple regicide will have to suffice.
Or a cowardly escape.
A knock jolts Kazia from his thoughts. Yudra calls through the door, “The prisoner, as you requested, Your Highness.”
“Bring him in,” Kazia replies, fiddling with an unplaced pawn.
Lucien enters, his eyes wary but his presence as confident as ever. That self-assurance hasn’t faltered since Kazia met him. He takes in the parlor, the aerie board, the rats, the statues. “Afternoon, Your Highness.”
“Leave us,” Kazia tells Yudra, then snaps, “Youstay put,Commander.”
Yudra leaves, and Lucien tilts his head. “I knew what you meant, Your Highness. Should you be dismissing your guards like that?”
Kazia wrinkles his nose. Everyone always says that. As if any drasgard could protect him from true danger. “Thanks for your concern. I often take security advice from collared pets.” Kazia points at the armchair across the table. “Now, sit.”
Lucien grins, undeterred. “I was thinking of the scandal, not the security.”
The ridiculous, offensive notion barely registers, because Lucien flinches as he sits.
“Stand up,” Kazia orders.
Lucien looks more amused than anything else. He stands back up, flinching again. “I can do a little dance if you want, Your Highness, but I’m warning you now, it’ll be terrible.”
Kazia rises too, circling the table. “Take your shirt off.”
Thatsurprises Lucien, but his cocky grin only widens. “Sure you don’t want me to take a bath first?” Lucien pulls his shirt up. The neckline gets caught on the metal collar. “I’ll bend either way if you have a preference, but by all accounts, my dick is fantastic.”
All the air leaves Kazia’s lungs. Bruises spread across Lucien’s side and stomach, the deep blue stark against his red-gold freckles.
Kazia’s first impossible thought is that Imrik did this. The blazing-clear memory of Imrik’s lash shocks Kazia’s lungs into motion again. But Imrik couldn’t have done this. Somebody else did.
