He didn’t flinch. His gaze dropped to the blood-slick dagger still clenched in her hand, then lifted again, locking onto her eyes with a focus that made her breath catch. Those molten amber eyes reflected the river behind her, swallowing its silver light, pouring it back as molten fire aimed straight at her.
“You heard me,” he said, voice low and sure. “You were minutes away from a full flare when I showed up.”
He stepped closer. The distance between them, already too small, shrank until the air tightened around her. His presence was impossible to ignore now—towering, unyielding. She had not realized before how massive he was, the breadth of his shoulders beneath worn black leather, the strong lines of his arms flexing as he moved.
Astraia fought the urge to step back. She anchored herself in place instead, curling her fingers tighter around the dagger, though deep down she knew it would be useless against him if it came to that.
Her bond stirred faintly at her spine—not in warning, but inrecognition.
And that terrified her more than any blade.
“So what is this? You’re keeping me alive so you can trade me in as livestock to the false king?”
“Or until he wishes you dead.” He flicked some dirt from his leather armor, as if she was nothing but a child’s plaything that he would soon tire of and destroy for amusement.
Astraia clenched her teeth, forcing her bond down as it threatened to engulf her and melt the bounty hunter’s face off for good measure. Hands closing into fists, she glared at him. “And who exactly are you? Other than the king’s lap dog?”
“Draven,” he replied, deadpan.
“Well, Draven, you can take your bargain and blade and shove them right where Dominion reigns. I am not yours to protect or sell. And I will not go quietly.” Astraia stared into his eyes, transfixed but unafraid, daring him to try.
His grin deepened. “Bold of you, Starborne, making demands of the man who kept you breathing.”
With deliberate, slow movements, he sheathed the massive broadsword across his back.
Astraia, however, did not lower the dagger in her hand.
“You don’t trust me,” he said, almost admiring the fact. “You shouldn't.”
He stepped aside then, granting her a clear path past him. An unspoken challenge. Freedom dangled at her fingertips—but so did danger.
“You can stay here,” he continued, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Wait for other less-patient bounty hunters to find you. Or you can come with me. Live long enough to beg the king for your life.”
The ache in Astraia's spine deepened, her bond thrumming with a low warning she could not quite decipher.
Trust no one. Survive first. Question later.
“Fine,” she said, her voice like iron. “But first, I’m going to need my dagger back. The one you conveniently stole from me.”
Without a second thought, he reached for the sheath at his side. A dark black metal hilt shimmered in the sunlight. In one slow, deliberate motion, he freed the dagger and held it out with one hand, surveying it.
Her dagger. Hedidhave it.
“Pity. I was becoming attached to it.” He turned the dark blade over once more in his hand and extended it to her, the hilt angled toward Astraia.
She did not take her eyes off of Draven as she sheathed the celestial blade, a familiar and welcomed weight pressing to her thigh. She discarded the bloodied blade she had stolen from her attackers, letting it fall to the ground.
Astraia glared at the man who could be her next betrayer or savior. “If you so much as look at me the wrong way—”
“You’ll spear me with one of your arrows,” he finished, one brow arching in amusement. He turned, heading toward the tangled tree line without waiting for her to follow. “Come on, Starborne. The night's falling fast. And you’re no good to me dead.”
For a moment, Astraia just stood there, staring after him—this maddening, infuriating, impossible man who strutted through this broken world as if it could not touch him.
Then, with a muttered curse under her breath, she followed him.
Trust no one, she reminded herself.Not even the ones who seem like they're trying to save you.
Especially not them.
