“May I see your mark again?” she asked of him.
He eyed her a moment, but lifted his arms in front of him once more. He pushed his forearms together, and then she saw it, the whole of the phoenix bird, half etched into his left and half etched into his right. The wings wrapped around his muscles on either arm, and the tail flailed out and continued to wrap up his arms, all the way to his shoulder blades and collar.
“The other Hunters… You and Balandria are the only ones with the marks up to your shoulders,” she noted.
“Fair observation,” he muttered, resting his arms once more. “Only those of Kings are marked so crudely. A symbol of the pressures and trials we would have to face as leaders of our kind.”
“And those marked Infi?” Aydra asked.
He fumbled with the ring on his finger. “Most disappear before their markings. They escape into the darkness. But if we do find them…” His voice trailed with a raised brow, and her heart constricted.
“And the infants?”
He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. “If you were to find an Infi child in Duarb’s roots… if you knew what it would become, that its very presence on this land would mean death and betrayal to all of Haerland… what would you do?”
She swallowed hard. “I would make sure it did not get that chance,” she whispered.
He sighed and turned his gaze to the fire again. “My people have lived as long as they have because Kings over this Age have had to do what they must to keep us safe. But Duarb’s curses do not simply lie with our births.”
“What do you mean?”
He rubbed his arm and met her eyes again, this time giving her a small smile. “Enough for tonight,” he said then. “I’ll have your dreams filled with nightmares if you learn all our secrets.” He stood from the ground then and offered her a hand.
She swatted his hand away. “I can rise myself, Venari,” she smarted, grabbing onto the pole. Her hand slipped, and suddenly she felt his strong arms under her.
Her nostrils flared as she came face to face with him, near an inch between them.
“Sure about that?” he smarted as he helped her rise to her feet.
She grabbed the crutch and smacked his shin with it, to which he winced, but laughed nonetheless.
“Glad to know you’ve not lost your fight whilst being entrapped her,” he mocked.
“I am not entrapped here.”
His hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at her, and the smile on his lips met his eyes. She swallowed hard at the sight of it, how the anger had faded, and a playfulness had replaced it. She had never denied his handsomeness, the stern angered facade he always wore being one that quelled her interest, but not one she’d ever allowed herself to think more of. He was the enemy King, yet not, of the southern realms. Born of a cursed race she’d been taught to think less of throughout her years.
“Goodnight, Aydra,” he said to her then.
Her name coming from his lips made her eyes squint just briefly. He turned away and started down the steps from the deck. The noise of his brothers and sisters welcoming him to their fire chats filled her ears. One of them clapped him on his shoulder and rattled him, laughing as they told some joke at his expense.
The Venari are beneath you, she’d been told, No matter what these people say, no matter this ‘equality’ previous kings swore to them. Never turn your back on a Venari.
Lies.
There stood a man, a race of people, who bled for their own, for Haerland. A race of misunderstood beings whom the Chronicles had betrayed because of the wrongdoings of their giver and the curses on their heads. There stood a man worthy of the crown he dared not wear except at banquet, a man who walked and fought equally with his people, not above them or watching on the sidelines as they died.
She allowed the flames to dance in her eyes a few moments longer, and as he gazed up at her again, she watched a tiny smile rise on his lips, and then he turned away once more.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ON HER FOURTH day, Draven gave her more of the tonic so that she would actually stay in bed instead of trying to walk. He told her she was being stubborn, and that if she didn’t stay in bed that day, that he would be forced to strap her into it.
So she took the tonic and surrendered to the weight of it on her mind and body as it forced her to sleep.
A dreamless slumber met her, and the next thing she knew, the warmth of the darkness swallowed her whole. She only awoke when a shouting somewhere in the distance broke her out of it so harshly that she bolted upright in the bed.
The shrill noise calmed outside, but it rang in her ears for moments after. It was dark outside, but the fireplace behind the tub was lit, its last embers hanging on as it died a warm glow, along with a couple of flame-filled lanterns on various surfaces scattered about the room.
The high-pitched wailing vibrated the wood once more, and she knew exactly what it was that had awoken her.
Infi children had been born beneath Duarb’s roots.
The next wail send a shiver down her spine. It reminded her of an animal dying slowly, crying out in agony as its insides were ripped from its core. The screech of the Aviteth poured through the air, and she reminded herself that was probably exactly what was happening to the Infi children.
She hugged her knees into
