The opportunities seem obvious. They burn bright, finally lighting a path to his goal. “I could kill the king.”
“Sure,” Whisper says, unimpressed.
“What’s wrong?” Lucien expected rather more enthusiasm. At least some consideration. Not this frankly insulting disbelief. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m pretty fucking powerful. If Imrik thinks I’m still controlled, I can get close to him.”
“Sorry, it’s just I’ve seen this before.” Whisper looks up at the ceiling like he’s steeling himself for something. Then he fixes Lucien with a dark violet glare. “Who are you fucking?”
Lucien’s jaw drops. “What the fuck?”
Whisper braces his hands on his hips. “I know how this goes! I risk my life infiltrating Draskora to rescue someone. Then they refuse to be rescued, because they’re having too much fun fucking Draskorans!”
“I’m not Bellamy,” Lucien protests, barely keeping his voice down.
“At least Bellamy was in disguise!” Whisper takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Who is it?”
Kazia’s wine-sweet expression comes to mind unbidden. His beautiful indignation fixing his hair after they left the closet. His scent mingling with that of the clean linens.
“It’s not like that,” Lucien says, hoping the truth will lend his voice conviction. Even if itwerelike that—which it isn’t—Lucien has other reasons to stay. The storm that drove him to flame and sky. “Do you think I lack motivation to kill Imrik Dire?”
Whisper’s eyes soften. “I know you don’t. And honestly…that’s not a bad plan.” He returns to his satchel, searching. “Audric and Julien discussed something similar before I left.”
“Is there something I don’t know?” Lucien asks.
“Margot wants to win this war definitively. She’s not going to settle for defending Silaisan territory.”
Lucien hisses through his teeth. Fuck. This war won’t be over in seven months like the last one. Unless something drastic changes. “If I get a shot at Imrik Dire, that would be pretty definitive, wouldn’t it?”
“That it would.” Whisper straightens, a leather pouch in his hand. “Julien and Audric wouldn’t ask this of you.”
“Good thing Julien doesn’t command me.” Lucien grins. “And Audric would let me do it anyway.”
Whisper pulls out a small black object. He hands it to Lucien.
The earring is glossy black, front and back fixed with flattened studs. It’s identical to the one in Lucien’s ear right now, suppressing his magic.
“This is a fake,” Whisper explains, fishing a few metal tools from the pouch too. “I meant for you to wear it as we escaped, in case someone saw us. Sit down. Rakos explained the trick to getting these off.”
Lucien sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
Whisper braces a foot on the mattress and inspects Lucien’s ear. His touch is cool, impersonal. “Thank Julien for that. I could never love a nation as much as I love him.”
The words are matter of fact. Unashamed. Lucien can’t relate—no romance could turn him from Silaise. Then again, Whisper didn’t have much to be loyal to at home.
Whisper picks up a narrow, key-like tool. “You’re not going to burn the room down when I take this off, right?”
Lucien’s always had good control, but he’s never had his magic suppressed for so long. Just a few brief trials during military training, seeing what null-rope felt like. “One way to find out.”
Whisper seems unconcerned. The tool clicks the metal, echoing loud in Lucien’s ear. “See that you don’t. I can always shove the null-ring down your throat if I need to.”
“Reallyglad you’re on our side,” Lucien says.
Then the null-ring slides from his earlobe, and magic billows within his soul. Lucien’s vision brightens white and gold, as if hehaslit the room aflame. But the fire remains within him, twisting and jumping like an eager cat.
He lifts his hand and calls a wisp of magic to his palm. A spark flickers to a flame, then vanishes at his command.
Fuck. That feels good. Closing his eyes, Lucien basks in his entirety.
***
