“You know the stories,” he continued. “You know what he is capable of.”
“Perhaps I wish to—”
Draven held a hand up. “No. No politics. No bullshit,” he said with a shake of his head. “Tell me the truth.”
She swallowed hard and stared at the flames as she gathered her words. “Fear is something I dare not allow on the surface of my core.” She paused and met his eyes. “I’d like to know what its depths are hiding from me.”
He stared at her a moment, and then he began to fidget nervously, his heel tapping on the ground. “You realize what I risk by calling it?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. “I do.”
His eyes flickered back to the fire again, and then he stood. “We’ll need to travel several more hours northeast from my home and into its territory. I will not risk it following us back.”
His boots squashed the fire in an instant.
She wasn’t sure what to expect from him in the hours that they traveled. But they traveled deliberately, and in silence for most of the hours it took them to reach a place where he was comfortable calling it.
Each time she would look over to him, he was staring into the trees, a blank expression of nothingness on his face.
“I did not know you knew how to stay so quiet,” she muttered once she could not stand it any longer.
His hand tightened and then relaxed on the reigns, and he continued to stare straight ahead of them. “There is a lot you do not know about me,” he replied. “For instance, my favorite food is--”
“Women?” she interjected.
His brows raised, and she swore she saw a quirk of a smile rise on his face. “I was going to say potatoes.”
She almost laughed. “I wasn’t aware we were on the favorite foods level of our friendship.”
“Is that what this is?” he asked, looking towards her with a grin. “And here I thought I was leading you to your certain death.”
“Allowing the Noctuans to do your dirty work… All this time you’ve promised my death would be privileged enough to have it done by your own sword.”
“The Berdijay will only rob you of your mind,” he assured her. “My sword will certainly be what ends your life.”
She almost laughed. “I am glad to know the fantasy of my death is what you dream of at night.”
“I’m surprised you were able to sleep without the aid of the tonic or Samar last night,” he bantered. “All that moaning—”
“You know, you keep talking about my moaning as though you cannot get it out of your head,” she mocked, raising her brow at him. “Something you’d like to share?”
Draven chuckled under his breath. “If I decide I should like to hear your moans again, you’ll know it.”
She didn’t recognize the flutter in her stomach as she met his gaze then, the sharp intake of breath she felt herself take as his eyes danced over her figure… She quickly pushed it to the back of her mind and looked out ahead of them.
Circumstance, Aydra, she told herself. Pure circumstance.
A chill grew through the forest before she could utter another word. Draven pulled on the reigns of his horse, and she followed suit.
“What—”
He held his hand up, and she stopped talking. Leaves crunched to their right. Draven squinted into the treeline and then moved slowly off his horse, pulling his sword from its scabbard when he did. Aydra quickly pulled her bow and an arrow.
Draven crouched as he walked around the horses, his feet making no noise on the dirt.
Infi, the raven called down to her. He crawls into the canopy. Left tree.
Aydra squinted into the shadows, searching for any movement. The white of its hands grasping onto the trunk caught her eye. She pulled the arrow through and sent it soaring through the air.
The arrowhead landed with a thud in the creature’s neck, and it fell backwards to the ground.
Draven straightened and stared at the dead Infi now lying in front of him.
“If you can land that shot in the shadows of this forest, do tell what happened that day on the beach,” he said as he turned back towards her.
Her jaw tightened. “You were shouting at me,” she argued.
He kicked the foot of the creature just as the ground began to shake. “Must be nice to have never had to use your weapon under such pressure,” he mumbled.
The horse beneath her began to waver at the ground shaking. She reached down and rubbed its neck, assuring it it would be okay.
“No one shouts at me if they want to continue breathing,” she continued.
The roots began to take the Infi creature back into the dirt, and she had to avert her eyes, wishing she could close her ears at the noise of its bones being ripped from its insides and taken back to Duarb.
“I suppose that means my days are numbered then.”
She shook her head at him as she watched the Infi creature’s bones disappear into the forest floor. Something he’d said days before continued to bug her, and she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her.
“There are no children in your home younger than thirteen,” she said.
“Fair observation,” he bantered as he pulled himself back onto his horse. “What else have you noticed that you’ll be taking back to your kingdom?”
She wanted to throw something at him.
“I’m not taking back anything,” she argued. “It was a simple statement.”
“And where are you going with such a statement?” he said upon their starting to walk once more.
“I was going to ask if Duarb had given another Infinari child,” she admitted. “You’ve none of the younger children under Balandria’s wing, and…” she paused a moment, considering the words she was about to tell him. “Arbina has not given another since Nyssa and Dorian. She regularly gives children every ten years. I was curious if the same was happening to your kind.”
Draven’s jaw tightened, and he glanced solemnly in her direction. “Duarb has
