He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently, brows furrowing on his forehead. “What?”
She sat up then, allowing her hair to fall over her face, avoiding his eyes as the shame she felt cracked and splintered her numb body. “Do you remember the darkness you said I knew nothing of?” she asked in a shakier voice than she knew herself capable of.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Draven, please…” she begged.
He stopped talking and simply held her hands in his, and she suddenly felt herself trembling at the thought of telling him. Her heart raced, the noise of it throbbing in her ears. The first time Vasilis touched her flashed in her memory, and the flames turned blue in front of her as she stared at them.
“Aydra?”
The sound of Draven’s soft voice slashed the flames back to orange. She swallowed hard, an icy breath cutting through her lungs, and she wiped a tear forcefully from her face. “What I tell you,” she managed, “you have to understand. I’ve never actually told anyone. Dorian and Lex know, but… it is because they saw it. Not because I told them.”
Draven’s eyes narrowed, and he squeezed her hands. “Whatever it is—”
“Draven, don’t coddle me,” she whispered. “Don’t try to save me. I just… I need you tohearme.”
He swallowed hard, eyes traveling over her face. And then he gave her a nod. “Okay.”
The words vomited from her mouth.
Before she knew what was happening, she was telling him everything. Everything. From the first time Vasilis put his hands on her and Zoria told her it was normal, to the last time Rhaif had burned her and forced her to her knees. She told him of how she’d blamed herself for it for years, of how she’d only just allowed herself to escape from the condemnation of it.
The words caught in her throat. The knot folded in her stomach. She thought she would actually vomit a time or two, and Draven would rub her arm and squeeze her hand in response, not saying a word as she worked through it.
And when she was done, she watched as his own tears ran down his silent face. The angst of revealing her true self to him ripped through her insides, and seeing the hurt on his face made her flesh redden. She reached out and wiped his face, to which he took her hand and kissed her palm hard.
“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize the extent of it… Of what was happening… I thought it was just squabbles between you, normal fights of a brother and sister, I—”
“It’s fine,” she whispered. She avoided his gaze, terrified if she looked too hard into his eyes that she would see her own shame written back at her in his pupils.
“Aydra, it isn’t fine,” he argued. The wind picked up, but only for a second. His form squirmed, as though he were trying to keep some part of himself shoved inside, trying not to allow his powers to exude at the frustration and anger he felt. “What he did to you… what they have all done to each other… if the people knew how Arbina treated you both—”
“Do you truly think the people would believe me over he or our mother?” she breathed, feeling the heat creep on her cheeks at the thought of what the people would say if she even tried to accuse their wonderful king of such horror. Their perfect king. Honorable and generous. To accuse all the kings before him, those whom her people had practically worshiped in those walls, forcing their queen to stand alone in his shadows without realizing what they were doing to them.
“Do you think they’d believe the word of the promiscuous queen over their beloved Chronicles and honorable King?” she continued.
Draven’s fist tightened at his side, and he stared into the darkness, a firmness rising in his jaw. “He will pay for this,” he promised. “I will break every bone in his body before slitting his throat if ever I get him alone.”
“No, you won’t,” she affirmed.
He paused, brows raising just slightly on his forehead as he met her eyes. “You expect me to sit back and not rip him to shreds the next I see him?”
She stared pointedly at him, their eyes not moving, until finally he sighed heavily and shook his head.
“Yeah, fine,” he surrendered.
“If you were to kill him, it would take away from what we should be truly focused on,” she insisted. “These ships. The strangers. ‘Man’ if you will. If you kill him, it will start a war between us, between all our friends we just brought together, and we cannot lose any men before the true battle comes. You know this, Draven.”
A growl emitted from under his breath. “I never liked being the hero,” he told her. “It’s much more fun being the villain.”
The upwards quirk of her lips was brief, and an exhausted jagged breath left her lungs. He exhaled deliberately as she sank against him, her body washed with relief of telling him the truth, getting it out so there were no secrets between them. Her skin tingled with the waking of her numb core, as though her flesh was being pricked with needles as it awoke of a new day and life just a little more free than it had been before.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
THE MURMURS OF the forest welcomed her two mornings later.
She could not keep the small smile from herself upon smelling the forest air around her. It was just darkening when they’d arrived the night before, and Draven had brought her in under the light of the moons overhead. She hardly remembered it, being so exhausted from the mental anguish of her leaving and then the restless nights she’d received on her journey. She wasn’t sure how she made it up the stairs.
