Kazia drops to the floor, putting the table between himself and Lucien. “You’re not going to scold me? Marek scolded me the last time I almost poisoned someone.”
“Sometimes there are good reasons to poison people,” Lucien says, without even thinking. Fuck, he needs to stop this attraction nonsense. But surely poisoning can be justified sometimes.
“It’s all right, you can scold me.” Kazia flips through a book, too quickly to be reading any of the words. “I poisoned her because she condescended to me at a party. ‘Of course, the little prince wouldn’t understand the reality of combat.’ Which isn’t wrong, but it’s the way she said it, you know? So I poisoned her the next week. But what’s really interesting is what happened next.”
Lucien is riveted. Kazia is gorgeous, sharp, thoughtful.
“Gabra was wing-marshal, but she couldn’t fly with the vertigo. She decided to retire.” Kazia moves to another book. His hair shifts, as luminous as the scalestone chandelier above. “There were two obvious choices to replace her. Marek, of course. He’s an idiot, but he’s good at the dragon thing.” The compliment sounds grudging. “But the other choice was even more obvious.”
Lucien exhales. “Rakos.”
“He was perfect. A popular war hero, with such dangerous magic. There was just one little problem.” Kazia lifts a finger.“Rakos Tem was turning into a fucking pacifist. Father didn’t like that, so he arranged for another rider to frame Rakos for scalestone smuggling.”
“Wait—Imrik was behind that?” Lucien asks, trying to piece this together from what he’s heard from Rakos. “How do you know?”
“I’m a good, obedient child who stays quiet and listens during family dinner.” Kazia waves his hand. “Of course it was Imrik—who else would dare? But Rakos was so popular, and the dragon corps is just independent enough, that Father couldn’t execute him randomly. He likes keeping his hands clean, in public at least.” Kazia’s smile turns hollow. “You know what happened next. Vana tried to rescue Rakos. Rakos understandably misunderstood the kidnapping. He met Bellamy Sandry, and they fucked off to Silaise.”
“Discovering Silaisan scalestone along the way,” Lucien says. “And now we have dragons.”
“Now you have dragons.” Kazia meets Lucien’s eyes. “Because I couldn’t take a mild insult.”
The library falls silent. Lucien leans back in his chair, still riveted by this tiny grail prince everyone underestimates.
Fuck. This isn’t just attraction.
Kazia scoops Butterfly up. “That’s what taught me the power of chaos. Any little action can have such disruptive consequences. I don’t have Vana’s resources or connections. I don’t have Marek’s power. But I’m very good at being a problem and ruining other people’s plans.”
“To what end?” Lucien asks. “Just for the sake of chaos?”
Kazia’s shoulders soften. His voice is soft too when he replies, “I was trying to buy time. It didn’t work very well, but afterSilaise found scalestone, it took Father four full years to declare war.”
Lucien spent ten years figuring out how to win a war. Kazia spent that same time fighting to prevent it. “You were trying to avert the war.”
“Not because I care about anyone else,” Kazia hastens to add. “I had selfish reasons.”
Invisible scars. A lifetime of secrets and terror. There’s nothing selfish about wanting to escape abuse. Lucien’s not sure putting Kazia on a throne is the right move, but he would be better than the current king.
Lucien should definitely care about making the right move. Not his unbearable urge to fulfill Kazia’s every desire, large and small.
“People start wars for selfish reasons all the time,” Lucien says. “I like your approach better.”
Kazia looks away, like Lucien’s gaze is too much for him. “Anyway. I have my drasgard and heralds, Sabora, Bernek, Gabra, and part of Komar. That’s not enough to secure the capital, much less the country. So my next plan was to hide with General Gabra, and then… make a new plan from there.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Lucien says. “Why haven’t you left yet?”
“I need to find the item Mother is hiding.” Kazia appears very interested in scritching Butterfly’s shoulders. “Do you know what a phylactery is?”
Lucien’s blood heats. He needs far more concentration than usual to guard the flame in his soul. “I do. What does Aliza use it for?”
Most blood mages need to touch or see a victim to control them. Lucien only knows what he’s learned from Whisper,which is bad enough. A phylactery of blood makes the control permanent, and allows a weaker blood mage to perform greater, more horrible spells.
Kazia shrugs, still ducking his head. “She only uses it to summon me. She could use it for other things, though. If she needed to. If she wanted to. I have to break it before we leave.”
“Say the word, and I’ll break it now.” Lucien struggles for his strategic mindset. “No, you’re right. We can only break it when we’re ready to leave.”
Aliza can’t find the phylactery broken if Kazia hasn’t left yet. Lucien races through other possibilities—replacing the phylactery with a fake sounds promising—but restrains himself.
Kazia has already lived through this nightmare. He needs help with the wider strategy, but he clearly knows the instruments of his abuse.
