She smirked at him. “You Hunters and your precious hair,” she muttered.
He raised a brow. “How many Hunters’ hair have you tried touching?”
Her lips pursed, and she shoved him as she sat up. The swim of the night before radiated through her, and she felt a twinge of pink rise on her cheeks.
The great black horse met her there upon her sitting up, and she grasped its reins in her hand, hoisting herself up to standing. The strength had nearly returned to her ankles, and the pain of it was a mere twinge on that morning.
“Look at that,” Draven mused as he dusted off his pants. “She stands on her own.”
“Almost,” she agreed. “Maybe I’ll be ready to go home before you think.”
A flash of something settled in his gaze… sadness? No. Something that made his weight shift, and his hand rub the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong? No telling me I’m not ready—”
The feeling of his hands grasping her face made her words cease in her throat, and when she felt his lips press to hers, she had to grab onto his shirt to keep herself from falling to the ground.
Her muscles turned to water, and her chest swelled with the same warmth from the night before. A chill down her spine, a honey-like glow trickled down her arms. She let go the reins and grasped his the back of his head and his waist in her hands, allowing him to deepen their embrace.
A great sigh left him as he rested his forehead against hers. She steadied herself in his arms, allowing him to hold her against him.
“What are you doing to me, Venari?” she heard herself whisper.
He swallowed hard and pulled back to look at her, his palm resting on her cheek. “Last night… I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to do that since you sang their song,” he managed. “I wanted to know what that was like before you left, before things went back to the way they were.”
“I don’t know that things will ever be as they were.”
His weight shifted, and he kissed her once more. She relished his hands wrapped around her, squeezing her body against his. She could feel the need growing between them, his hands raking her sides and then squeezing her backside in his palms. Her thighs tensed at the desperation of his body, her hair raising on her skin. But after a few moments, she pushed slightly on his chest, knowing that if she let it continue that she would find herself against the trunk of a tree within seconds.
“I believe we have an eight hour journey back today,” she managed in a breath. “We should get going.”
He growled into her ear and her eyes rolled as he nipped on her throat. “Leave it to the queen to spoil the fun.”
She shook her head at him as the horse knelt down beside her and he let her go. “The faster we make it back, the more time we have for fun later,” she said as she climbed onto the back of the steed.
His brows raised. “Then by all means.”
Draven kept sneaking sideways smiles at her the entire journey, so many that halfway through their journey, she shook her head at him and said, “Keep smiling at me like that and your people will wonder what kind of bewitchment I worked on you these last two nights.”
Draven chuckled and packed his pipe. “And what a bewitchment it was,” he muttered as his eyes flickered to hers.
It was an hour out from his kingdom that a slew of birds suddenly flew over their heads and burst into the sky from the canopy.
Aydra’s heart skipped, and she pulled back on the horse’s reins.
Here. Here. Here.
“Fucking curses—”
A gust of wind blew fiercely through the trees.
Draven stopped his horse, his face paling.
GO! Aydra told the horses.
The horses reared, and both started down the path at such a pace, she nearly lost her balance on her own’s back.
“I thought you told your sister you were okay,” he called over the wind.
“And when have you ever known my brother to listen to anything?” she argued.
“If he’s touched any—”
“I’ll handle it,” she promised.
The birds continued to chirp over her head. Her heart pounded in the half hour it took them to reach his home. The raven flew past her shoulder.
Who is it? Aydra asked it.
Your brother’s company.
Aydra cursed the day she was ever born in the waters beside him.
The noise of people shouting filled their ears as they approached.
The scene before them made Aydra’s core thicken with red fury. Rhaif’s company was spread out over the clearing, a few of the Hunters on their knees in front of some. Every Venari in the trees had their arrows pulled on their bows. Swords were drawn. Belwarks in full armor as though they’d been marched five days from home for a war. Rhaif stood in the middle, Balandria on her knees before him with a knife threatening her throat.
Draven bounded off his still running horse upon reaching the edge of the clearing.
“You’re a long way from your beach, Sun boy,” Draven growled as he crossed the space between them. “Unhand my people and get out of my realm.”
Rhaif’s lips twisted upwards as he met Draven’s fury over his shoulder. “Your realm? No. Your realm will be forfeit. You’ve taken the Queen as a prisoner and thus declared war on all of Haerland.”
“I am not his prisoner,” Aydra called as she walked the horse forward.
Draven shoved Rhaif backwards so hard that Rhaif was launched off the ground. “Unhand my people,” he demanded.
Bard caught Rhaif’s falling figure. Three Belwarks pulled their swords at Draven’s throat.
“Put your swords down,” Aydra almost shouted. “Now!”
Rhaif gave an upwards nod to his men, who lowered their swords halfway. His eyes met Aydra’s then, and he straightened his cloak. “My sister—” he started to reach for her, but she bucked the horse dominantly over him.
