CHAPTER 30

Tarron's chambers were modest in size, filled with the necessary requirements and nothing more. Not what I expected to find fitting for a royal prince. In its heart was a small table with two plush seats tucked beneath it beside a lounge chair which filled most of the space. His bedroom was in the north of the room, open doors giving way to a rather large four-poster bed, the sheets straight and untouched.

He smiled as I entered, looking up from the table which hosted silverware and food-covered plates. It was clear from his wide, azure eyes and subtle grin that he expected me.

Again, not that I had the choice to decline. We both knew that. It was clear from how prepared he was for my arrival.

"You came," he said, hands linked together before him as though he did not know what else to do with them.

"I was not under the impression I had a choice in the matter." My comment was said in jest, but even Tarron should not deny the sharpness that was hidden beneath my light tone.

"With me, you always have a choice." He looked to Gyah, bright eyes glowing as he dismissed her. "Thank you for your assistance in collecting Robin. I have got him from here."

She bowed and left swiftly, the door clicking shut to signal her departure. I was certain she mumbled something beneath her breath, but I didn't have a moment to grasp it.

"I feel as though I should ask you how you have been… Forgive me if you have been waiting for my company, but court has been abuzz, and the time has not been right."

He had an air of cockiness about him as if he couldn't imagine a scenario where I didn't, in fact, desire his presence. But deep down, I knew that he was right. I had longed to see him and question why he was here and not in his own court with my father.

"What makes tonight any different then?" I asked, taking tentative steps into the room.

Tarron simply shrugged, pouting his lips as though he chewed the inside of his cheek in contemplation. "I suppose I simply couldn't wait another moment."

I studied him at a distance, hoping my focus would stop the creeping of red from flushing my cheeks. Tarron's jacket was a deep maroon, with gold threading twisting across his chest and sleeves like thorned vines. Buttoned only at his waist, it gave view to the low-cut tunic that scooped to reveal his strong bone structure across his collarbone. He wasn't crafted from muscle like Erix, but his tall, narrow frame still gave the impression of power, just in a different way. Tarron had gathered his long, curling hair into a bun that rested atop his head, unmoving like a crown. A single, disobedient strand draped to the side of his sharp and handsome face, defining the line of his jaw where it rested.

"If the invite had outlined a dress code for this evening, I would've put in more effort." My comment only tugged at his lips, creasing lines beside his azure gaze.

"You look…" His eyes ran the length of me, from head to foot. A shiver responded across every inch of skin, exposed and hidden. "Perfectly fine."

"Is that it?" I asked, forcing the joke out unnaturally. "I suppose I've been referred to as worse."

"Haven't we all?" Tarron swept into action, standing from the small table and moving until he stood guard behind one of the chairs with both hands gripping its back for support. "I do hope you are hungry. I would have sent word to ask what foods you like but thought that someone of your history would not be fussy with what is on the plate."

I joined him at the table, pulling a face as his words settled over me. "Because I am a poor boy, from a poor human village with no taste or trained palate?"

"Perhaps. Am I wrong?"

"Well, not exactly. I've never cared about what food I ate, only that I had some to stuff in my cheeks. Although I must say, I cannot imagine how anyone could turn their noses up at this." The table was covered in plates of all sizes. Some had thin-sliced meats folded over one another, layered with a drizzling of what smelled like mint. Another plate spilt over with grapes on the vine, another with potatoes whose skin looked crispy to the touch.

"Please." Tarron was beside me in two steps, pulling out the chair closest to me and ushering me into the seat. "Carry on standing in awe, and the food will be cold before you eat it."

I slipped into the chair, back stiff as I allowed Tarron to tuck me in. There were so many questions I had to ask him, but as he hovered so closely behind me, I found it hard to grasp onto a single one.

"Not that I don't appreciate the effort, but the last time I sat down for such an elaborate feast, someone tried to poison me," I reminded him, the memory doing a swell task at spoiling the food before me.

Tarron moved around the table, pulling his own chair free and sitting upon it as though it was a throne. Even with the table between us, we were close. His long legs stretched out beneath it, and I felt the brush of a knee against my own.

"If it makes you feel more at ease, no one but Gyah and I know of your visit here tonight. And the food was already brought to my room before Gyah was asked to send word of my invitation. If the food was poisoned, it would be to kill me, not you."

"Or you could be the one trying to take my life," I reminded him of the possibility.

Tarron smiled, flashing teeth. "If I wanted to kill you, Robin. Trust me when I say you'd be dead by now."

"Wow, that makes me feel fantastic. Thanks."

His wink sent a shock to my core

"Do you not have your own Taster?" I asked.

Tarron scoffed, tugging out a napkin and unfolding it across his lap. "Of course, and he is still standing, unharmed. Believe me, it is safe to eat. You look like you need something… sufficient."

There was an insult somewhere in his words, but my stomach distracted me with a rumble that made him laugh.

Polished silverware rested upon the table in front of me, catching the golden glint of light from the many candles that filled the corners of the room. Each wink was an invitation for me to reach for them and begin piling food on the empty plate that waited patiently before me.

I picked up the fork, stabbing it down into a hunk of sliced white meat, which I hoped was chicken. "It would solve the problem my presence means to you."

"Care to remind me which problem you refer to?" Tarron said over the rim of a glass. The warm glow of candlelight revealed the mark his lip had already left on the drink. He had clearly started that before I had arrived.

My cheeks flushed, so I popped the piece of chicken into my mouth and chewed on it to keep myself from saying something I would regret. Swallowing, I spoke. "Me putting an end to your plans of war and domination."

A flash of what could only be disappointment passed behind his eyes, darkening them for a moment. It was brief but I noticed.

"So you have made your choice?" Tarron asked whilst plucking a pale green grape from the vine before him.

"Are you dissatisfied? Want to tell the cooks that I'm eating with you tonight, just so they can quickly pop a dribble of poison in it?"

"Well." Tarron shook his head, popping the grape into his mouth and chewing politely with his lips closed. Only when the lump in his throat bobbed from swallowing did he continue. "There is still time to convince you otherwise, nor would I like this meal to be ruined by more death. It would truly spoil the evening."

"Is that why you invited me for dinner? To try and convince me that sending the army beyond these walls to level Durmain is the right thing to do? Or does it have anything to do with Erix and the response he'd have had knowing you called upon me?"

"Am I missing something?" Tarron ignored my initial question, which set me at unease. "Erix is your personal guard, not someone who should feel any type of way for you accepting a harmless invitation to dinner."

"Except he told me about you and him. Your past," I said quickly, enjoying the look of surprise that pinched his handsome face. "Interesting stories he had to share."

"He did?" Tarron's dark brow peaked, his stare unwavering from mine as he popped yet another grape into his mouth. "And what stories did he tell of me? Please… I would love to hear this."

I narrowed my stare on him, stabbing the fork in yet another piece of meat. Tarron did not flinch as the table shuddered beneath the impact. "Erix doesn't trust you. What I know of your history is disjointed and unclear, but the way he feels about you screams volumes."

"If he distrusts me so greatly, then what made him allow you to join me this evening?"

"I make my own decisions. He might not like you, but he does respect me–" Tarron's knee brushed against mine again, this time the connection silencing me.

"Have you told him about the secret we share since you are both such open books for one another?"

Father .

"No."

Tarron placed a finger over his lips, eyes wide. Then he pointed to the door behind me, then to his ears. I knew instantly what he warned. Gyah, and the many of Tarron's own guards who we'd passed on the way here, lining the hallways beyond. They'd likely be listening in, and that set me at unease. It also ruined my chance of asking the important questions, at least in the way I originally planned to. I supposed I'd just have to alter them.

"Of course, he doesn't know," I hissed.

"Then surely that suggests you do not trust him as you say you do?"

My grip on the fork tightened until my knuckles went white. "I'm getting the sense that you are using this against me. Is this all a joke to you? To get me in here just to make me feel like an idiot?"

Tarron's expression tensed, the blue of his eyes darkening to rough oceans. He reached across the table, jacket sleeve brushing over the food. His hand found mine and held it. His touch wasn't warm, not like Erix's. But it was still grounding and certain. The metal of his rings left a cold kiss across my own skin.

"Robin, I assure you I take what I know extremely seriously. I apologise if I have come across as disrespectful. Please know that is not my intention. I just… I have not had the chance to be in a setting like this for a long while. My years have been so taken up with planning and war council that it seems I have forgotten ways of conversation when in such… close proximity."

I looked at his hand and the pale tips of his fingers as he held me. It was this hand that had led the current of war and encouraged it. Tarron and his revenge were what likely sparked the creation of the overwhelming camp that waited beyond the layering of brick separating the castle from the outside world.

"You should practice more then," I said quietly, unsure if I should pull my hand away or let him carry on holding it.

"Oh, I do hope I get the chance to."

A flush of warmth crept into my cheeks the second Tarron let go of my hand. He sat back in his seat, lips parted as though he thought of what to say next, but I spoke first.

"I was under the impression you would be returning to Oakstorm with my father. Does he not need your magic to help him heal?"

"He is in safe hands. There are others in my home who can help him. The antidote has done the necessary, all he needs now is time. And anyway, with the Passing sneaking up on us, I didn't feel comfortable leaving you."

"But the inking–"

" Has been removed. I personally saw to the deterioration of the ink. His body took to it well, absorbing it into the blood stream. There is nothing amiss for anyone to discover."

My cheeks burned with his intense stare. "Thank you."

"Of course." Not ‘ you're welcome' which suggested he didn't do it for me, but actually for himself.

"Aren't you going to ask me what he said about the mark," I said.

"His excuse? No. I trust you will tell me if I needed to know. And anyway, spoiling dinner over a discussion of Hunters and their hate for our kind would really not be ideal. Instead, tell me what you think of the legion of soldiers outside that window. Are you impressed?"

"Should I be?"

Tarron shrugged. "Part of being a king is caring about the movements of your people."

King. Your people . I hadn't claimed the fey, or my heritage yet. And I got the impression Tarron knew exactly what he was saying, and how his words had an effect.

But he had my father. I couldn't say the wrong thing.

"I don't feel a sense of ownership over anyone, Tarron. Not those soldiers, only the innocent lives they could threaten."

"So you do feel a sense of ownership? Just over the humans."

Blood rushed up my neck, spreading cold fingers across my back. "I'm not going to answer that."

"It's ok. Anyway, there will be plenty of festivities to follow. Not all the perks of being a king are negative. How has your research been coming along? I've heard that Queen Lyra's scholars are being a little tricky in coming to help you."

"Court gossip?" I asked.

Tarron nodded. "Seems like you are really up against some barriers, Robin."

He was talking about the war, the soldiers shifting their camp closer to the Wychwood and Durmain border, readying to strike once the unclaimed power of the Icethorn Court did most of the initial damage, information I had dragged from Althea the night we had arrived in Farrador.

"I know you want to go to war, Tarron. But for that, wouldn't the term war suggest you have someone to fight against?" I asked. "Surely you know that the humans are not prepared for what is to come. If you succeed, then you'll have no resistance from them."

"Does not seem fair, does it? But why are you talking about such matters if you are decided on the choice of accepting your court, what it means for the realms if you do."

"Wouldn't I simply be halting your plans rather than stopping them all together?" I retorted. "Even if the border stays strong and a ravenous winter is not sent over Durmain, would your army not simply wait for another moment to strike? I trust that revenge will linger far longer than the border."

"You are very smart for someone with human blood running through your veins."

"That sounds much like a compliment but feels more like a punch to the jaw."

"I admit if you claim the court it would ruin the map of plans we have spent years conjuring. But you are right that it would not stop a war, only postpone it. It is why you should give up on the idea of stopping me. Revenge is ancient and inevitable, and my urge for it only grows with each passing day."

I knew what it was like to lose a loved one, and knowing the humans were to blame for the fact I'd never see my mother pained my heart as though a dagger was twisted within it. But it didn't make me want to lay waste to an entire civilisation.

"Revenge cannot be your only motivator," I said, my hunger almost non-existent now. "Is it land you want? Isn't that what old leaders fought over? Land, love and pride. You would really lay siege to thousands of innocent lives just in the pursuit of revenge for what happened to your family? What of those who survive your attack. What is to stop them from seeking the very same revenge against you?"

"It is not only land, love or pride that motivates war. Even coin doesn't come into play. For me, it is duty," Tarron growled as he replied, the last three words let out with effort as he gripped the table before him. "I do it for family, but those who want the same as me have their own reasonings. Perhaps some are motivated by land. Each year our numbers grow, and space unconfined by a border would be luxurious. Maybe some want war for love, slaying the monsters who clawed families in two as they did with mine. We all have our reasons, each as valid as the other. I am surprised you choose to stand in the way to protect the people who tore so much away from you. Not everyone is that good , Robin."

"I'm not good," I told him; it took a lot not to stand abruptly from the chair as I said it. "My choices are made for selfish reasons. Whether it be the need for a distraction." My mind flirted with the image of Erix and his strong touch. "Or the desire to finally feel like I have something. Growing up in Grove, I never really belonged. But here I do. And this is a feeling I don't want to let go of."

"Which leads us back to our new issue. Accepting the power of your lineage will not prevent a war, but postpone it, Robin. With or without the aid of the enteral winter your family's power will lay across Durmain, the war will happen one day. Surely you have understood that? Those who wish to seek vengeance for the pain the humans and their Hunters have caused will find another way."

"Do you have a habit of speaking about yourself in the third person, Tarron?"

He bit his lower lip, carefully holding back whatever he was going to say next.

There was a tension between us, so taut, the very air felt as though it was going to shatter. Neither one of us spoke for a moment. All I could do was look at him as he looked at me. Part of me felt the strong need to stand and leave, demanding Gyah take me back to my room where I'd lose myself to the distraction that waited for me. Erix, not the piles of unhelpful books. But there was another part of me,small but undeniable, and that told me not to leave Tarron.

At least not yet.

"Do you know how your mother was murdered?" Tarron asked me. Even the flames across the candles seemed to stop dancing as the question settled over the room.

"A gryvern attack." My voice cracked as I replied.

"And who sent them?"

"If you are trying to prove a–"

"Who sent them, Robin? Answer the question."

"A human. Someone from Durmain. It doesn't matter because it will never change what happened."

"Yes, the humans did, but specifically the Hand. The mysterious leader who instructs the Hunters to continue abducting and killing our kind."

It was hard to conjure an image of a person who hid behind a legion of murderers who proudly wore the marking to join them all as one, the same mark inked across Father's ribs.

"What are you trying to prove? That the command of one man should make me feel the need to justify the killing of many?"

"Why?" Tarron added coldly. "Why did they attack the Icethorn Court specifically? No other attacks occurred across Wychwood. The gryvern attacked your family and your family only. Why?"

I shook my head, unable to conjure an answer.

"Rumours started before your mother took her final breath, stories of a child, made from an affair, between Julianne and her human lover. At first, it was courtly gossip, something the nobles and dignitaries would whisper behind backs as entertainment. It was believed that it was that link that caused such a targeted attack. Why else would she have been the focus of the monsters? She was the one who got away. And the Hand's victims… they never escape him."

Father would never have done that. I knew it as clear as a summer day. I had never been so certain of anything in my life before.

"I was invited here to eat, not to answer double-sided questions." I moved to stand, but Tarron beat me, pleading me to wait with an outstretched hand.

"There is something I need to tell you, but it needs to be somewhere more private…" My eyes darted to the open doors that led to his bedroom. He must've caught my glance, because he looked down to his clasped hands, trying to fight the grin.

I felt the need to shout at him, to remind him this was no laughing matter. Instead, I just stood, pathetic and shaking, as his accusations riled through me.

"And I want to return to my room. If I'd known this dinner would've gone down such a dark and disagreeable route, I would've refused it in the first place."

"But you did not, and you are still here. There is one last story I need to tell you, and then I promise not to bring it up again."

"I'm not going to your bedroom." I didn't know why I saidit so abruptly. He had not once suggested that was where he wanted me, but it was the only place of privacy I could see.

"A shame, but understandable. But there is somewhere else I would like to take you equally as much."

There it was again, the creeping of guilt, as Tarron's throwaway words proved Erix's theory that this was all some game to him. And I was the prize.

"Why can I never say no to you?" I asked.

"Because you are a smart man."

Tarron closed most of his hand into a fist, leaving only two extended fingers free. He stepped beside the table and sliced his fingers down through the air. At first, nothing happened, the action random and alarming, but then the air shivered and separated. Two beams of light peeled away from one another to show one of his spindle-like portals. Where it led, I was unsure. The scene beyond was dark, but the wind that escaped through it was real as it tugged at the dark strands of my own hair, even from a distance.

"We can talk freely, where ears do not follow us," Tarron whispered, standing before the spindle of light, half his body engulfed by it.

I hesitated before stepping towards him. My body, although my mind screamed for me not to follow, refused to obey. One step after the other, I moved towards him.

"Is this the part you take me somewhere unguarded and stab me in the back?"

Tarron extended a hand for me to take. "Robin, I am not one to stab my enemies in the back. If I were to do it, I would want to look at you, face to face, with nothing but a blade width between us."

A shiver ran up from my legs, across my spine and down my arms until my fingers numbed as a response to his words. But still I took his hand. "You are the type of man I was warned to run from."

"Then why are you not running from me?" he asked, guiding me towards the portal of light.

"Because my father always taught me to face danger and never turn my back on it."

With that, we both stepped into the portal, leaving his room behind us as we were greeted by cold night air and deathly silence.