CHAPTER 30

Assassination Is a Slow Dance

Eduoar was alive.

And he was disappointed.

Every time he began to stir, he shut his eyes and resubmerged himself in sleep. But like a glass buoy, his consciousness kept floating up, bobbing to the surface of his dreams. In those brief moments of awareness, he discovered his wrists thick with bandages, his aching body, and Arcadimon.

A glimpse of brown curls streaked with gold, a stubbled cheek, blue eyes with long lashes that caught the sunlight.

Time passed. Eduoar didn’t know how long.

But when sleep finally washed him ashore, he woke to the smell of Arcadimon, the smell of wind and snow. In the window, the curtains swayed like slow dancers.

His hand spread over the coverlet, studying the weave.

“So . . .” Arcadimon’s voice interrupted him. “How long have you known?”

Painfully, Eduoar turned. Arc was seated at the bedside, his clothes rumpled, his hair standing up where he’d run his fingers through it too many times.

“Years.” A weak grin crossed Eduoar’s face. “What, did you think it was that easy to kill a king?”

Arcadimon fidgeted with a stray thread on one of his cuffs. “If you knew, why’d you let me . . . ?”

Eduoar looked away. “It was for the good of the kingdom, wasn’t it? I thought you’d . . .” His voice trailed off as he studied the room. It was immaculate. No clothes littered the floor. No wardrobe doors were ajar. Arcadimon’s doing, though his friend obviously hadn’t taken the same care with his own appearance. “That’s why I let you take over my duties. So you’d know how to run things when I was—”

“You wanted me to take your kingdom from you?”

Eduoar shrugged. “I decided a long time ago that Corabelli rule in Deliene was going to end with me. I just thought this way, I’d know it’d be in good hands.”

His friend sat back, scouring his face with his palms. “The hands of someone who tried to kill you?”

“Well, I mean, a part of me thought you knew I wanted . . . You had to have known, right?” Grimacing, Ed plucked at the sheets. “All those rumors? That I was like my father?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Arcadimon stood abruptly, pacing the bedchamber.

Eduoar frowned. “That’s what I don’t get, Arc. This was what you wanted. Why’d you stop me?”

His friend stalked to the window, staring down at something in the courtyard below. As if on their own, his fingers tugged at his cuff again, unraveling the thread further. “If you knew about the poison, why’d you try to kill yourself at all?” He turned. “Why didn’t you just wait?”

“Because of what happened on the White Plains,” Eduoar answered softly.

“Oh.” A touch of pink rose in Arcadimon’s cheeks.

“The curse claims anyone I love,” Ed interrupted. “Anyone.”

“But I—”

“Don’t say it. If you say it, I won’t be able to stop myself. And then you’ll die.” A sad smile crossed his lips. “Don’t tell me you weren’t going to say it either. That’s a heartbreak I’d rather avoid.”

Arcadimon ran his hands through his hair, tousling it so perfectly Ed wanted to mess it up just to see him do it again. “So if you weren’t cursed—” he began.

If I could have family, friends, and someone to share my life with? Ed’s heart whispered. If I could have you?

He might still have his sadness. But if he wasn’t so afraid of loving someone, of letting them in, of hurting them the way he’d been hurt, having to watch so many of his family suffer and die . . . perhaps he might want to live. Perhaps he could live, in a way he’d never allowed himself to before.

“I’m a direct descendant of Ortega Corabelli,” Eduoar said grimly. “I am cursed.”

Arc didn’t answer. Instead he crossed the room and slumped into his chair, arms dangling over the sides. Ed almost laughed. Arcadimon Detano didn’t slouch. “So what do we do now?” Arc asked. “Just continue on like nothing’s changed?”

Eduoar pressed his cheek against the pillow. “That depends on why you didn’t let me die.”

Arcadimon stared at him for a long moment, long enough for Eduoar to study the veins of gold in his blue eyes and watch doubt and longing pass over his features like the shadows of creatures in the deep.

“Because I’m not ready,” Arcadimon said at last. “I don’t have Abiye’s support, and if you go, she could make a good case for the crown.”

If there was more to it, Eduoar didn’t want to ask. Instead he nodded. Lady Abiye was his great-aunt on his mother’s side. Ruler of Gorman Province, she was a capable leader and a formidable enemy. If she wanted to rule after the end of the Corabelli line, she and Arcadimon could split the kingdom in civil war.

“I’ll take care of it,” Eduoar said.

“You’ll what?” Arcadimon straightened. He looked almost like his old self, except for the wrinkles in his clothes and the surprise in his expression.

Ed almost chuckled. It wasn’t every day he got to surprise his friend. But their days together were coming to an end. “I’ll make sure she’ll support a regency government, with you to lead it,” he said, sobering. “And then . . .”

“Ed . . .”

“And then you’ll help me?” he asked. Begged. “As my friend?”

Pain flickered across Arcadimon’s handsome features.

“Come on, Arc.”

Arcadimon shook his head and pasted on a grin. “All right, all right.” He tugged at his shirt, all bravado. “Just don’t fall in love with me or anything first, okay?”

Eduoar grinned. “Stop looking so good and I’ll try.”