“You know what I’m going to do,” he whispered.
Her heart skipped, and she remembered the words he had spoken to her the night of the Infi attack. He toyed with her hands in his a moment, and then he continued.
“I always knew you would never allow me to save you—”
“Draven, you did save me,” she interjected.
His brows knitted together, and he squeezed her hand, but he didn’t respond.
She reached up and felt of his face, her thumb grazing the gash across his cheek. “You saved me from a noir which I did not know was killing me. From living out the rest of my days wondering what it would have felt like to know the truth of this world.”
“You would have been fine without me,” he whispered.
“I know,” she managed. “But you made me so happy. So loved. My equal partner, in light and in dark.”
His jaw was trembling, and he closed his eyes. “I am taking my own revenge against this kingdom for what they have put you through. All of them. This kingdom, your giver, your brother… they will all burn for what they’ve done to you and every other queen to have ever sat subdued on that throne. The flames of darkness will envelope the sky. And the Rhamocour’s shout will be the last thing they hear before my death.”
Aydra’s heart skipped. “You’re bringing the Noctuans here? To Magnice?”
“The dragons,” he answered. “Do you have a problem with that?”
She thought about it a moment, staring at their entwined hands in his lap. “Our crown does not live within a castle. It lives within a people. These walls have betrayed that crown, made it grow greedy and unyielding…” She paused, meeting his eyes. “As long as Nyssa and Dorian are safe, it can crumble to ash and smoke,” she finally determined.
He smiled, his forehead leaning against her temple as he hugged his arms around her, knees bent and cradling her in his arms. “There’s my Queen.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
WITH THE RISING sun came the clanking of armor.
They’d tried to stay awake as long as they could.
But they couldn’t stop sunlight from coming.
“No—no, wait!”
The realization of the day hit her chest. She was ripped from his arms by a Belwark. Her heart cried out for him as she reached for the bars. “Draven!”
Draven grappled desperately for her hands through the bars— “Aydra, no, wait!”
Their fingertips barely touched before the pommel of the guard’s sword struck his face, and he fell onto the dirt with a thud.
“Draven!”
Arms wrapped around her own, and she kicked and screamed, but it was of no use.
Her fingertips burned with the last of his touch on her skin.
Her fight ceased as they dragged her through the castle, her own body heavy between the two Belwarks who carried her. Her dragging feet creased the black runner down the halls. The sun flickered through the windows, and she knew it wasn’t clouds hoarding over it. It was the shadows of the crows following them.
She was thrown onto the floor between Arbina’s pool and her brother’s throne. The Council was lined up around the chairs, each standing with their hands in front of them. She didn’t have to look up to know who’s black boots were slowly coming toward her.
She glared up at her brother through the strangles of her hair. And when he bent down in front of her, she spat the blood in her mouth onto his face.
“Coward,” she breathed.
His jaw tensed, and she watched as he wiped his face with the sleeve of her dress.
“I always knew you’d betray the crown,” he said in a hushed voice.
“By falling in love with someone that wasn’t you?” she dared. “Forgive me for wanting actual love, brother dear.”
Rhaif’s nostrils flared. He stood and snapped his fingers above her. “Take her to the square.”
The ropes scratched her wrists.
She could already hear the murmurs of the people gathering around the square where she was taken. She wondered what lie the crown had told her to have them gathering stones in their hands.
It was on this same square that she had executed the Infi. This same square that she had protected the people who would now bring her to the brink of death by stone’s throw. This square that she had sworn to her raven that they would have their day.
This would be the day the Chronicles would soon call a reckoning for the people, a mercy done forth by the King himself, to protect their land from the abomination of the child growing in her womb.
Lies.
Her heart shattered upon seeing Draven being dragged up the steps to the platform across from her. He stared at her through his strangles of hair.
The Venari King shoved to his knees.
But it was only when she saw the shears being handed to Bard that her heart truly screamed.
“No—no, wait! DON’T—”
Bard pulled Draven’s hair to a knot on the top of his head, and he cut it crudely.
Aydra’s knees gave out beneath her as she watched his hair fall to the wood. Draven avoided her eyes, tears streaking his face.
The Venari King ripped of his crown.
Bard came around and picked up a lock of it, and then he held it high in the air with a great, mocking, bellow. The crowd cheered gleefully, its shouts and celebration making Aydra’s ears ring.
These were the people that had once loved her.
It amazed her what fear would do to a people.
Perhaps the Infi had infiltrated her streets more than she’d previously thought.
When Bard was done mutilating Draven’s hair, he spoke into the crowd, asking it for a number of lashes to be given.
Aydra barely heard the words. Draven finally looked up and met her gaze, and he shook his head.
She hoped Balandria was not there to witness it.
The people decided on fifteen lashes for Draven. His agony filled the air
