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But he’d made an error. He’d made the same error everyone always made when it came to me. He’d assumed the Prince of Love would do the right thing. He was wrong.
“He lost a finger,” he grunted. “How does that in any way make up for it?”
“He’s lost more than that.”
I was supposed to be the one who never gave up on hope, the Prince of Love! All I’d been lately was the Prince of Failure.
Lark sat across the bench, arms folded, his perpetual smile on his lips. That smile was the most shallow, empty mask he wore. He was hurting—we all were—but when Lark was in pain, he built walls, keeping everyone out. His smile was that wall’s locked door.
“Everyone assumes my brother is the worst of us.” I poked the knife against my finger, then pointed its tip at him. His skin had turned blue, and he shivered, despite the heat. It wouldn’t be long now. “Razak kept me leashed for a reason. What he fears, so should you.”
I snorted without humor. “You’d know.”
“Hm, yes, because you assume I’ve ridden every cock in your Court of Flowers.”
“Haven’t you?”
He bowed his head and laughed at the tabletop. When he looked up, the smile was so like Razak’s that the heat from whatever this was turned to ice in my veins.
“Even the virgin cock belonging to the prince who cuts throats,” he said, delighting in every word.
I’d narrowed my view, not wanting to see the messy, morally challenging parts of us, and that was my fault, not his.
He hated me for using him as bait and revenge against Razak. And I loved him. I was a fucking idiot.
I loved him, my prince behind the door. I’d always known, but only now did I allow myself to experience how deep that love went.
“Because I’m not a good person, and you’re not a bad one, and together? Together, we’re better for each other. I don’t know. I don’t understand it, I wish I did. But I know I trust you.”
He was my magic in a world sorely lacking wonderment, and I was his beautiful lie.

“I’ve been Pain’s prisoner my whole life. I don’t even know where to begin healing.”
“I do.” He smiled and nudged my mouth with his. “I know exactly where to begin. Will you trust me to help you?” I let his hand go and clasped his whiskered face instead.
“I trust you with my heart and soul. But more than even that, I trust you with my love. There’s no other in the shatterlands I trust more.”


I wish I could slow time. I want nothing to happen, so that everything slows, but at the same time, I want to share the world with you.
But he’d made an error. He’d made the same error everyone always made when it came to me. He’d assumed the Prince of Love would do the right thing. He was wrong..
I'd always save Lark before I saved the world, because this world wasn't worth saving without him in it.
Arin might have been the only person in the four courts to truly know me. It was strangely freeing, having him to see me, the real me.
"Does this fantasy tale of yours have a happy ending?"
"Of course it does. it wouldn't be much of a story otherwise."
I tipped his chin up and peered into his fathomless eyes. "Does ours?"
"I have no doubt," he said. And lied.