His clothes had been ripped of him. He was soaking wet, his navy black hair matted down over his daring eyes. Streaks of black ran up his torso like veins beneath his skin. His hands and wrists were blackened with the ash of the Promised King.
His chest heaved up and down with deliberate labored breaths.
But in his hand was something she didn’t expect—the gleam of a bright silver sword danced in the sunlight, and his fist curled around the handle.
Arbina stepped up to him, her arms crossed over her chest, chin raised in the air. She reached out and stroked his cheek.
“Show your form, Rhafian Sunfire.”
Rhaif’s shout bellowed through the air. Blue flames erupted onto his skin.
Aydra felt her core drain as she watched her brother take his true form.
Their elder, Vasilis, had died that night.
The moons were shining bright through her window when Aydra’s eyes fluttered open. She thought she’d heard something. A shadow passed between she and the window, and she jumped so fiercely, water splashed onto the floor.
Draven was staring down at her with a frown.
“Sweet Arbina, Draven,” she breathed, willing her heart to beat at a normal pace.
“Why are you asleep in the tub?” he asked.
She sighed heavily and rubbed her face, the memory of why she was there and the dreams she’d just had filling her mind. Her hands grasped to the sides of the tub, and she shook her head.
“It’s nothing,” she managed. “Just a bit overwhelmed.”
He reached for her robe and held it for her as she stood. The look on his face made her heart tighten.
“Don’t look at me like that, Draven,” she said, slipping her arms into the warmth of the thicker robe. “I simply had a long day.”
“I saw you in the streets with him,” he said as she stepped from the bath.
She pulled the robe tighter around her and avoided his eyes. “Choosing decorations for the celebration tomorrow,” she explained. “It’s apparently going to be an extravagant affair.” She did a double-take at his figure as he stood in the light of the window, the shadows resting in his face settled into his features. His jaw tightened, and she shook her head at him again.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“I didn’t—”
“I mean do not look at me as though I am some broken filly,” she managed, feeling her chest begin to heave.
Draven’s gaze narrowed. “Why would you think I would look at you as such?”
“Because—because you saw me having to act with him today and you have to know how much that hurt,” she admitted, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “To have to walk beside someone who would condemn me tomorrow if given the chance. Act as though he has not turned into the monster kings of our past… as though nothing has changed and he has not become someone he promised not to be—”
“You cannot save him,” Draven whispered.
Her heart shattered into bits as she met his eyes. “But why can’t I?” she managed. “He is my brother. We grew up playing, laughing… We loved each other. We promised to be so much better. What happened? Why can’t I save him from the madness of our predecessors?”
Draven stepped closer and held her hands in his. “Fear is our greatest enemy. It causes you to do things you never thought yourself capable of. Your brother is lost to the gravity of it. Everything you are, he fears. You are smart, strong, confident, intrepid… you could be the greatest leader this Echelon has ever known. And tomorrow, when our friends from the east and south get here, his jealousy of you will only get worse.”
He paused and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I’ve no doubt every race will be calling you their queen before the week is over.”
“I would never ask them to,” she whispered.
“And that is why they will.”
She fell into his arms and he hugged her against his chest. “And what about when this week is over? When our guests have left and you have returned to the Forest?”
“Then you kill him,” he said with a shrug.
She pursed her lips up at him and shook her head. “I am not killing my brother.”
Draven sighed heavily, a low growl emitting from his throat. “It would save us a lot of grief.”
“And it would also start a war we do not need.”
His weight shifted, and his jaw tightened as he met her eyes. “Killjoy.”
She started to smile, but the door opened then, and Lex burst into the room.
“My Queen— Venari King, you both need to hear this—”
Aydra did a double-take at the sight of her Second’s widened eyes and bewildered gaze. Her arms fell from Draven.
“Lex, what’s wrong?”
Lex stopped at the edge of the bed, swallowing hard as she stared between them. Draven’s weight shifted towards her.
“Spit it out, Second Sun,” he demanded.
“Infi,” Lex said with a heave of her chest. “Infi reported in the smithing streets.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
“WHAT—AGAIN?!”
Aydra grabbed a dress from the closet and shoved it over her head. Draven tossed her her boots.
“How many?” he asked.
“Three.”
A low growl of frustration left his throat, and he pushed his hands through his hair. Aydra watched him a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, the memory of past Venari betrayals entered her mind. She pushed past him and followed Lex from the room.
Their quick footsteps echoed in the silent hall. Aydra couldn’t stop turning her ring over and over on her finger, a knot forming in her stomach as the thoughts of betrayal invaded her consciousness and core.
Her raven screeched over her head.
She was wrong… right?
“Is there something you should be telling me?” Aydra asked as they reached the next hall.
“Like what?” he asked.
Her jaw tightened. “I think you know.”
“Like telling you as in you think I’ve unleashed these creatures on your kingdom?” Draven knew.
“Have you?” she dared to ask.
“There was once such a plan, yes—”
Aydra stalled in her steps and rounded on him. “Excuse me?”
His jaw
