“So why haven’t you?”
He sighed and looked at the bed again. “You,” he admitted, his eyes raising to hers.
She stilled, her heart skipping in her chest. “Draven… tell me this wasn’t a dream,” she managed. “Tell me this was real. That you actually love me and it wasn’t just for some plan to take over the crown.”
He stared at her, eyes narrowing, and he sighed as the wind died down around them. “If this is a dream, I never want to wake from it,” he whispered. “Strike me under the potion of night at an instant.”
“That’s not an answer,” she breathed.
“How do you suppose I prove to you my love is not orchestrated?” he asked.
She fumbled with her hands in her lap a moment, contemplating the knot her core had woven itself into. The feeling of his skin against hers caused her breath to arrest, and she watched as he brought her knuckles to his lips, his hands caressing her own.
“I once told you you deserved nothing less than someone who would burn this entire kingdom to the ground for your salvation,” he repeated. “Aydra, I know better than to think you’ll ever need saving or that you would ever allow me to try to even if you did. But… I cannot promise to never bring harm to your kingdom.”
She felt the frown slip onto her face. He squeezed her hands, and she swallowed hard.
“Why’s that?” she managed.
“Because if ever it means vengeance for you, I will do it,” he swore. “I will burn this kingdom to nothing more than rubble against the cliffside. It will turn to ash and smoke beneath the weight of purple and orange flames. And not because of want of your brother’s crown or redemption of my giver. Those things I care nothing of. But you… I would light a match beneath your giver’s roots and bring this all down if it meant avenging you. If that isn’t proof enough of my love for you being real, then I am at a loss.”
She stared at their entwined hands a moment before meeting his gaze again. The sincerity and ferocity in his eyes made her chest swell with something she wasn’t sure how to put into words. The knot in her stomach. The heat on her cheeks. The fluttering in her chest and equal passion in his words.
She believed him.
He swallowed again, and she watched as he squeezed her hands once more, eyes avoiding hers. “If you want me to leave—”
“You asked if I trusted you,” she interjected. “I said I do.”
“And do you still?”
A lump rose in her throat, and she allowed the jagged breath to enter her lungs.
“I do,” she whispered.
She leaned forward, pressing her lips softly to his in response. He hugged himself into her arms upon pulling back, and for the rest of the night, they held each other, allowing their breaths to sync and be at peace.
Her King.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
AYDRA AND DRAVEN were awoken the morning by Willow bursting into the room after knocking more than once. She was spewing incoherent babble that Aydra wanted to slap out of her mouth when she rounded the bed.
Which was when she saw Draven in the bed by Aydra’s side and began to scream.
“—guard! Intru—”
“Shut up, Willow,” Aydra groaned loudly at her.
Willow’s mouth closed, but her startled eyes and paled face did not waver. She shifted on her feet, nearly falling over the rug as Aydra rose from the bed.
“But—but, Your Majesty—why—”
“Who lays in my bed is not your concern,” Aydra spat. “You’ll keep your mouth quiet about it and anything else you see unless you’d like to find yourself falling out of the window to the Edge.”
Willow’s mouth snapped up, but her eyes kept darting to Draven’s groaning figure now sitting up in the bed.
“It is barely dawn, lady,” Draven grumbled in his rasp morning voice, rubbing his face in his hands. “Why have you come barging in? Don’t you know how to knock?”
