Aydra didn’t speak much as they rode across the Hills of Bitratus. Draven didn’t ask anything of her. He and Balandria spoke their usual banter, speaking of their plans once they returned and what needed to be done around their kingdom. She was grateful he did not push her, try to make her talk to him about what had happened.
As they talked and ate, she simply sat by his side. Occasionally he would reach over and squeeze her thigh or graze her hand. But he never crowded her. He packed the pipe every night, but despite smoking the herb she craved so much for escape, all she wanted to do at night was try to sleep.
For four days they traveled, and on the night they finally reached the edge of the Forest, he begged her to eat something more than a few bites of bread. But she couldn’t. Her heart ached for the comfort of her raven, to hear its voice in her ears, its screech over her head as it watched over her.
“Can I do anything?” Draven finally asked once they’d settled in for their final night on the road.
She looked up at him, and he simply kissed her forehead, not needing to hear anything from her lips. She sighed into his arms and laid her head on his chest, unable to even breathe words on her tongue.
As she laid there against his chest, she heard him humming the Wyverdraki song. Her eyes closed and she nuzzled her head into his chest.
“What will your men say when I return with you?” she whispered.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied softly.
“It does.” She sat up and looked at him. “To me. It does.”
He sighed heavily, his thumb brushing her hands. “After you helped us with the ships, I think my men have earned a new respect for you,” he replied. “Once they learn of what you sacrificed to be there, you will find no other more loyal group of people.“
She reached up and kissed him then, the first time she’d kissed him since their leaving her castle, and she threaded her fingers in his beard, savoring the taste of his lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered upon pulling back.
He squeezed her waist. “Only for you,” he breathed.
She laid back against his chest once more, and he hummed the Wyverdraki song again. Laying in his arms, the safety of the Hills around them, surrounded by darkness and fire light…
She wanted to tell him.
She wanted to tell him everything.
Her heart began to beat loudly in her chest. She almost vomited at the thought, but something inside her had the urge to get it out. The humiliation of her truth tugged at her core. But this was Draven.
And she needed to say it.
“Draven…” she managed, squeezing his hand. “I need to tell you something… something I should have told you a long time ago.”
He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently, brows furrowing on his forehead. “What?”
She sat up then, allowing her hair to fall over her face, avoiding his eyes as the shame she felt cracked and splintered her numb body. “Do you remember the darkness you said I knew nothing of?” she asked in a shakier voice than she knew herself capable of.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Draven, please…” she begged.
He stopped talking and simply held her hands in his, and she suddenly felt herself trembling at the thought of telling him. Her heart raced, the noise of it throbbing in her ears. The first time Vasilis touched her flashed in her memory, and the flames turned blue in front of her as she stared at them.
“Aydra?”
The sound of Draven’s soft voice slashed the flames back to orange. She swallowed hard, an icy breath cutting through her lungs, and she wiped a tear forcefully from her face. “What I tell you,” she managed, “you have to understand. I’ve never actually told anyone. Dorian and Lex know, but… it is because they saw it. Not because I told them.”
Draven’s eyes narrowed, and he squeezed her hands. “Whatever it is—”
“Draven, don’t coddle me,” she whispered. “Don’t try to save me. I just… I need you to hear me.”
He swallowed hard, eyes traveling over her face. And then he gave her a nod. “Okay.”
The words vomited from her mouth.
Before she knew what was happening, she was telling him everything. Everything. From the first time Vasilis put his hands on her and Zoria told her it was normal, to the last time Rhaif had burned her and forced her to her knees. She told him of how she’d blamed herself for it for years, of how she’d only just allowed herself to escape from the condemnation of it.
The words caught in her throat. The knot folded in her stomach. She thought she would actually vomit a time or two, and Draven would rub her arm and squeeze her hand in response, not saying a word as she worked through it.
And when she was done, she watched as his own tears ran down his silent face. The angst of revealing her true self to him ripped through her insides, and seeing the hurt on his face made her flesh redden. She reached out and wiped his face, to which he took her hand and kissed her palm hard.
“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize the extent of it… Of what was happening… I thought it was just squabbles between you, normal fights of a brother and sister, I—”
“It’s fine,” she whispered. She avoided his gaze, terrified if she looked too hard into his eyes that she would see her own shame written back at her in his pupils.
“Aydra, it isn’t fine,” he argued. The wind picked up, but only for a second. His form squirmed, as though he were trying to keep some part of himself shoved inside, trying not to allow his powers to exude at the frustration and anger he felt. “What he did to you… what they have all done to each other…
