He chuckled softly, eyes darting to the ground and then back to her. He was silent for a brief moment as his hand squeezed hers again, and the intensity of it pulsated up the back of her arm. She could see his mind working behind his darkened sage eyes, and her heart began to beat loudly in her ears at the gaze he stared at her with.
“Aydra, I—”
“My king!”
The noise of one of his men startled him. His daze broke, and he stared past her into the forest. Aydra turned to find two of his men hanging on each other, drinks in their hands, and it was obvious the party was well underway.
Aydra bit her lips together to keep the laughter at bay as she crossed her arms over her chest upon their approach.
“My king!” one of them repeated, nearly tripping on a root. “You’ve to come with us. Bael has proposed a drinking challenge as Dunthorne liked to do. You must be the one to judge it.”
The other shoved a drink into Draven’s hand and clapped his shoulder. “You know, he cheats—” the man did a double-take at Aydra standing there, and then he held his arms open wide, to which Aydra’s eyes widened at.
“Sun Queen!” the man exclaimed. “I forgot you were here! Come—” he wrapped his arm around Aydra’s shoulders “—you can judge as well.”
Aydra’s eyes met Draven’s as the Hunter started to lead her back towards their home, and Draven openly laughed at her.
The knot in her stomach didn’t waver as she followed him back to camp.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HER EYES DANCED with his above the firelight the rest of the afternoon and into the night. Each time she would look up from her laughter with the Venari people around her, she would meet the fire in his eyes as he spoke with people across the clearing, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders rounded always in her direction. Her cheeks hurt from laughing with the Venari race since darkness had approached, hearing stories of their own inner squabbles, of their dealings with the traders, their weekly food fights they liked to get in.
She watched Draven retire himself after a while, going so high up to the roof above his home that she could not see him. It wasn’t too long after that she found her nerve, and she rose from the ground, hugging the blanket around her shoulders as she walked past Lex’s figure snuggled up with a few Venari and Honest women. Lex raised her cup to Aydra and gave her a wink upon her passing. Aydra resisted the urge to kick Lex as she stepped over her to the steps of Draven’s home.
Draven was leaned against the banister when she finally made it up the grand winding staircase to the roof. His figure was illuminated in the moons’ light, hands pressed into the railing overlooking the whole of the forest below him. She paused at the top to take in the scene.
Moons light danced off the darkening leaves on the trees. There were only two more Dead Moons cycles left in the year, and she knew after the last that the leaves would be gone, and a frost would take the bare forest over, if only for a short period of time.
The only tree taller than the one they stood in was Duarb’s great tree to the south.
She hugged her arms around her body at the slight wind breezing through the treetops.
“Did you get lost?” she heard him ask without turning around.
She crossed the space between them and stood at his side, gazing down at the scene below them as he was. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said, admiring the stars above her.
He didn’t say anything, and she felt her brows narrow at his silent figure.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Why did you come here?” he asked suddenly, turning to face her. “I mean… why come help me after blatantly ignoring me the last time I went to Magnice?”
Her brows narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You acted as though I didn’t exist, as though—”
“I was being followed,” she interjected. “Belwarks watching my every move. The last thing I wanted was for them to go back and tell my brother anything that would have inevitably brought harm to you. I needed to make sure to give the illusion of our usual aversion towards one another. Anything different would have been flagged.”
“Our usual aversion towards one another usually includes at least the common decency of acknowledgement,” he argued.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me why you came here. The truth,” he demanded.
“I told you I would come when there was another ship. I told you I would be here. I don’t give my word lightly,” she answered haughtily. “Is that not enough?”
Something flickered in his eyes that she didn’t recognize.
