“I slid the axe across their necks both times myself,” Aydra said, her nostrils flaring. “And you’re telling me I’ve only killed a ghost?”
Draven’s gaze narrowed. “Since when does the Queen handle executions?”
“Since I am the one who discovered both of them raping Dreamer women no older than my sister in the streets,” she argued.
“How is it you’ve let one escape long enough to live to such an age?” Rhaif asked.
Draven shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “If they are alive, then they are not true Infis. They are Infinari, born with both fates and assumably marked with the cursed fate if I do not know of them. I cannot keep track of every Infinari after it has reached its age of marking anymore than you can keep up with every Belwark uncovered beneath your temple.”
“My Belwarks do not steal and rape in the streets!” Rhaif hissed. “You will get your brethren under control, Venari.”
“They are not—”
Rhaif’s cup slammed on the table. “Get them under control or you’ll find your beloved giver’s tree guarded with Belwarks after the next dead moons. Do not force me to take care of this problem on my own.”
The shadows in the glare resting on Draven’s face settled into his features. A gust of wind blew around the room from the open windows, and Aydra felt a chill run down her spine.
“Is that a threat?” she heard Draven growl.
Rhaif’s eyes flashed fire, the flicker of blue flames rising just noticeably beneath his collar. “A promise.”
The raven screeched over head. Her hair billowed back off her face as Draven’s wind ensnared the room. Aydra could see her brother’s fingertips turning black as he nor Draven backed down.
“Enough,” Aydra’s voice commanded into the paralyzed room. “Cease before you both kill everyone in this room except each other.”
Rhaif blinked, and an audible exhale left Draven. The wind blowing through the room died down. The blue flames receded from Rhaif’s collar. Draven cracked his knuckles above the table, and she swore she heard a growl leave his throat.
“Where is the body of the one found here?” Draven finally asked.
“Tossed over the cliffs,” replied the Belwark captain.
“How long ago?” Draven asked.
“Yesterday morning,” Aydra replied.
Draven looked as though he would laugh, and he shook his head. “He’ll be walking your streets again by sunrise.” Draven stared across the table at Rhaif. “Send a party to search for him. Quietly. The moment he learns his secret is discovered, he will head for the mountain town of the Bryn. Once he gets there, his poison will stain, and he’ll become another one of their road thieves.”
“You do not give orders here, Venari,” Rhaif spat.
“If you want this man gone before he causes any more damage, you’ll listen. The Infi are master manipulators. Shifters. Whoever finds him at sunrise will probably take him in thinking he is a lost old man.”
Rhaif’s jaw tightened. He looked up to the Belwark captain, Bard, and gave him a nod. “Send a company out to the lower streets and beaches. Ask for any newcomers looking for food or shelter. Find the creature and kill it.”
“No,” Draven interjected. “You’ll find him and bring him to me. Your men have wasted enough time not knowing what they’re doing. I will show you how to properly dispose of its life.”
“Finding him could take days,” interjected the captain.
“You have until noon tomorrow, captain,” Rhaif interjected. “Take as many men as you need.”
“Discreetly,” Aydra cut in. “We don’t need him disappearing.”
“And what about the ones in our streets?” asked the same Noble.
Draven clenched his hands together. “What did you do with the bodies?”
“Burned,” answered one of the Nobles.
A quiet chuckle escaped Draven’s lips, and he shook his head.
