Her bonds jerked awake, pounding on the latch of their cage, alerting her to danger.
“Now, what do we have here?”
Astraia turned, placing a hand on her own Celestial blade. Her heart skipped a beat when she met the eyes of the desert warrior staring back at her.
The woman was more intimidating up close, with the appearance of an assassin but the demeanor of a queen. Hervoice was like silk, smooth and alluring, but her eyes cut through shields, flaying your deepest secrets open for the world to see.
“What business is it of yours?” Draven asked, deadpan.
“When two armed travelers appear suspiciously, I make it my business,” she sneered, narrowing her eyes at them both. Her face might have been shrouded, but this made her threat no less menacing.
“We are passing through, nothing more,” Astraia snipped, crossing her arms.
“Sure…” the woman replied, unconvinced. “If you are not gone by morning light, I will assume otherwise. Now move along before I turn you into a visual demonstration of the meaning ‘paint the town red.’”
Astraia stood her ground, feet planted ready for a fight, but Draven snorted behind her and walked toward the inn, completely dismissive of the warrior. Stunned, she cautiously turned and strode past the woman, casting one last glance over her shoulder.
The woman stared after her, crossing her arms with her back to the crowd.
Chapter 33
With the fall of Luxterra and the death of King Illias, the realm crumbled. Wraiths overran the provinces, burning villages and slaughtering thousands. Only Virellia and the Skyforge Peaks were able to withstand the assault. Virellia, it is said, was protected by the Star herself, Desire, though this is only speculation.
Broken: The Celestial War
“STARS, SAVE ME,” ASTRAIA GROANED as Draven unlocked the door to the room and swung it open.
It was quaint, with a small fireplace already lit for the evening, a large window overlooking the woods outside the town, and a small table in the corner with a vase holding a bunch of wildflowers. The room was slightly larger than the room they had shared in Aquarian, but there was a glaring similarity—one bed, one chair.
She walked inside the floorboards creaking with age, and stood in the middle of an ornate rug that covered most of the room.
Draven closed the door, then cleared his throat. “Right. Well, there were no other rooms.” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at her. A faint tinge of pink flushed his cheeks,but vanished almost as soon as it came. “You can have the bed,” he said quickly before dropping his pack onto the ground by the armchair that was angled toward the fireplace. He stood staring at her, waiting for her retort.
Heat rushed to her face, and she bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from saying something sarcastic and slowly nodded.
His gaze fell, lingering on her lips, and her whole body exploded with heat. Her bonds rushed to her spine, pleading with her to escape and fill the room with Starborne light.
Draven raised his eyes to hers once more then blinked, breaking the magical hold. He cleared his throat then turned to the door. His hand rested on the doorknob, and he glanced over his shoulder at her.
“I’m going to find us something to eat. There’s a washroom across the hall.”
And before she could respond, he had closed the door behind him.
The heat from his stare was sucked out of the room as the latch clicked shut. The warmth of her cheeks faded as her bonds also quieted, leaving her shivering from cold. He was the sun to her starless night.
She shuffled around in her satchel until she found it—his tunic. The one she embarrassingly wore almost every night, except when she had it laundered. She unloaded her bow and quiver but kept her dagger with her as she crossed the hall to the washroom.
Locking the door behind her, she undressed quickly. She had no desire to loiter in the washroom as it was used by all the guests on that floor, and she was already shivering in the cold room. There was running water, but only mildly hot, and the tub was just large enough to sit inside, clearly meant for washing and not for soaking.
After just a few minutes, she had thoroughly scrubbed the day’s journey from her skin and pulled the tunic over her head. She ran fingers through her dark hair and scurried back across the hall.
As she made to open the door, the handle turned, and Draven stood in the doorway.
“Oh, sorry, I just finished,” she stammered, clutching her belongings to her chest.
The bounty hunter stared at her, running his eyes from her face down to her bare feet. She felt naked despite the fabric covering her skin. Heat rose to her face, and her breaths quickened. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat.
He blinked, breaking the spell, and stepped aside, allowing her to pass.
