“You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” he affirmed.
Her weight shifted on her feet. “And if I refuse?”
His eyes flashed fire, and she watched his fingertips blacken.
Her jaw tightened at his warning. “If you think you can subdue me in front of people I have gone into battle with, you’re wrong. These people are my friends—”
Rhaif’s low laughter filled her ears. “Friends…” he mocked, shaking his head. “You’re the Sun Queen. You have no friends.”
“Your inability to make people love you is not my problem.”
He grasped her arms in his hands and pushed her against the mantle, her head banging backwards into the bookcase.
“Do not make me subdue you,” he warned.
“You cannot silence me.”
Aydra’s forehead met his nose, and Rhaif dropped her, doubling over and holding his bleeding nose in his hands. Aydra ran for the door.
The floor turned to fire beneath her.
It paralyzed her feet, and she fell to her knees as the pain seized her entire body. Breath stopped in her throat. She pulled in every direction for the crows, the ravens, anything to help her.
A swarm of crows poured in through the window, and she heard him cry out as they attacked.
But fire engulfed the room, and she felt as some of their cores evacuated their bodies at an instant. Her heart stung, and she opened her eyes.
Black feathers filled the air like snow.
“NO!”
He grasped her neck in his hands and pulled her to her feet. His lip was broken. Scratches covered his forehead and cheeks. His nose continued to bleed.
But the rage in his eyes did not fade.
“Perhaps this will remind you your place,” he hissed.
“—Put her down.”
Rhaif looked twice towards the door. Aydra seized the lapse in his grip and kicked. Her foot struck his side, and he doubled-over, clenching his rib. Her burned knees hit the floor again. She winced in the agony of her painful flesh, barely able to keep her eyes open as Dorian emerged from the shadows of the now open door.
“Stay out of this,” Rhaif warned.
Dorian’s eyes flashed black, and Aydra could just see the tips of his fingers turning charcoal. Dorian stood his ground over her. “Get out.”
Rhaif straightened and cracked his neck as his eyes blazed at Dorian’s defiant figure. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“I said get out,” Dorian repeated. “Or should you like me to tell the kingdom how you truly earned the high crown at eighteen?”
Rhaif’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. He grabbed a handkerchief from atop his desk and held it to his bleeding nose. “Council meeting in an hour,” he uttered. “I expect you to be there, prince.”
The servants’ entry door closed behind him at the back of the room. Aydra pushed herself up to her elbows just as Dorian knelt beside her.
She swatted his hand away when he went to grab her. “Don’t you ever interfere again,” she hissed at him.
Dorian’s face furrowed. “What?”
“I said—” She forced herself up to a seated position, and she grasped onto the chaise lounge to try and pull herself to her feet. “—Do not ever interfere with our fighting again. It is not your place—”
“He was hurting you,” Dorian argued.
“And if you ever see it again, you are to walk the other way. Let him finish and then you can come in after he is gone with our mother’s waters for healing. You are never to walk in on it, never to put yourself in his line of fire.”
“You are my sister--”
Her knees gave out from under her as she pleaded, “I cannot lose you, Dorian!” in such a broken shout that a lump rose in her throat.
Dorian put his hands under her arms, and he helped her into the chair. She sucked in the tears threatening her core as he sat beside her, and then she reached out to cup his cheek in her hand.
“I cannot lose you too.”
Draven was late arriving in Magnice.
He and Balandria had slept in longer than they should have on the journey up, so he’d barely any time to do more than change his clothes upon their arrival. He was nervous. He’d not spoken with Aydra since the last he’d been at Magnice, and he had meant to get there early enough to talk with her before showing up at the meeting.
But he didn’t have time.
Dorian met him just outside the Chamber doors as he too rounded the corner in haste.
“Prince,” Draven called to him.
“Forest King,” Dorian acknowledged, taking Draven’s hand and then hugging him.
Dorian’s face was pale. Draven’s eyes narrowed down at the young prince upon parting from him.
“What’s wrong?” Draven asked.
Dorian did a double-take just as he saw someone over Draven’s shoulder, and Draven turned to find Rhaif coming towards them, his purple cloak billowing out behind him.
“Tell you later,” Dorian mumbled as he pushed open the door.
Draven fell in behind him and took his seat at the quiet table. Dorian joined Nyssa at the back of the room, where he said something to her and her eyes widened. The air was thick with an energy that made him weary. The Council spoke in hushed tones around him. The doors opened once more. Rhaif came striding in, the rest of the table standing for him, and Draven felt his eyes narrow as he saw Rhaif’s face more clearly.
His nose seemed slightly off center, but there was no bruise. His bottom lip was red as though it had recently been healed of a deep scratch. There were red markings on his cheeks and forehead.
Rhaif snapped his finger and pointed at the chair Aydra usually sat at. A Belwark came forward and took the chair. Draven felt his fists clench.
“Will the Queen not be joining us?” Ash asked.
“Ah—” Rhaif took his seat and clasped his hands together atop the table. “My sister is feeling a bit under the weather today. She sends her regards. Not to worry, though. She’ll be at the meeting with the Nitesh at the end of the week.”
Draven’s eyes flickered
