He paused in the door and wrapped his arms around his chest, leaning against the door frame. “Did you call for him?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “Excuse me?” she managed.
“I asked… if you called for him,” he repeated.
She almost laughed sadistically at his words, and she shook her head, unable to even comprehend what he was accusing her of. “You men in power… you’re all the same. Always thinking someone is after your throne. Believe me when I say this, Venari, no one wants your crown nor do they want your realm. And if you still think I am the kind of person that would want your people harmed, then you have learned nothing about me this past week.”
“I don’t,” he said, pushing off the doorframe. “But I had to ask.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You’re crying,” he noticed.
Her teeth clenched, and she stared past him at the trees. “I am fine.”
He didn’t push her. Instead, he simply went over to the dresser and pulled a couple of shirts from the top drawer. Aydra watched helplessly from the bed. Her thoughts kept flickering to the forest, to the brief moment of happiness she’d felt for the first time in years.
“I expect you’re leaving soon?” he asked.
“I have to send word to Lex to meet me at the edge of the Forest in the morning.”
“Your horse is not healed,” he told her. “You can take one of ours. I’ll bring yours to the next meeting.”
“Thank you,” she managed. “For everything.”
“It’s what any decent person would do,” he replied without looking at her.
“Somehow I doubt you would have been treated the same had we found you wounded,” she said.
“I said decent person,” he countered, now meeting her gaze.
She gave him a slow nod. “Right.”
He fumbled with the shirt in his hands. “Here,” he said, handing her the long tunic. “Your clothes are filthy. You can wear one of mine. Do you need help to the bath?”
She took it from his hands and shook her head. “I can manage,” she assured him.
He gave her a nod then and ran his hand through his hair, giving it a fluff. “I’ll escort you in the morning,” he told her. “To the Preymoor. It’s much too late for you to set off now, especially after our being gone most of the day.”
“You don’t have to do that. I know my way through. Your people need you here, not looking after me.” She swallowed hard and hugged her chest once more. “I think… I think I’m just going to bathe and get some rest.”
He nodded, and she watched as he ran a hand through his hair again, pushing it over to one side. “I’ll bring food up later in case you’re hungry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SHE DREAMED OF running. Of the fire licking at her heels. But halfway through her nap, the most soothing touch she’d ever felt came over her, and she found herself wrapped in the grass beneath the stars in her dreams.
There were arms wrapped around her, one over her waist that would occasionally squeeze her elbow or grip the long of the tunic she wore, the other entwined beneath the space between her neck and her pillow. Not arms of fire or territorial ones. Arms of comfort that made her breath even and her heart settle. Arms that her body fit into and not upon. Arms that she nuzzled and sank herself into without opening her eyes for fear of it just being a blanket around her.
But she could feel the chest rising and falling at her back, the soft lips that pressed to the back of her neck and then her shoulder, causing a deliberate chill to run down her spine… And as much as she wanted to turn around and see his face, she fell deeply back asleep before she could.
The most peaceful slumber she’d ever experienced wrapped around her consciousness, and she fell into a darkness she didn’t want to pull herself out of.
He was not in her bed when she woke up.
The sun had not yet risen.
But she smelled the smoke of his herb in the air.
She pulled herself out of bed and grasped one of the crutches in her hand. Draven was sitting on the lounge chair on the deck, one leg bent into his chest, the other laying lazily flopped down at the side. His back was leaned against the wood of it, pipe between his fingers as he exhaled the smoke into the air.
She sat herself down on the floor of the deck and leaned her back against the doorframe. The noises of crickets filled her ears along with the final noises of the Noctuans as they relished their final night of hunting. She sighed, feeling a smile rise on her lips, as she heard the sound of the Wyverdraki song echoing in the still air.
“You should come back during another,” Draven said without looking to her.
She watched him puff on the pipe and exhale again. “I think it’d be hard to keep me away,” she heard herself say.
The look he gave her beneath his brows made her heart warm in her chest. “The sun will rise soon. We should get you packed.”
He rose from the chair and tucked his pipe on the table by the chair.
He helped her pack her things with few words, making sure she had all her dresses and shirts, making fun of the smell of her dirty clothes upon gathering them from the floor.
“I didn’t realize queens were capable of smelling so… ripe,” he mocked, picking up one of her dresses.
She resisted the urge to throw something at his face. “The stench, if there is one, is your fault—”
“You were crippled. Did you think I would have my people wash your pretty dresses for you?” he asked, brow raised at her. “What if they’d ruined the lace on one?”
She felt
