“She should have killed him,” Draven growled.
“If she had, she would already be dead,” Dorian interjected. “The Bedrani Council has taken over while he heals. They would not allow me to take my own crown.”
Draven’s eyes narrowed. “Not allow you… What is happening here?”
An audible exhale left Dorian and his eyes darted up and down the hall. “I’m not sure. But I do know you and Balandria need to leave. You should not have come. I have a feeling they’ll put you in chains.”
Draven’s jaw tightened. “I’m not running. Where is Aydra?”
“She should be back soon. Nyssa took her to our mother’s waters to see if it would help heal her.”
“I’ll go there—”
“No—” Dorian pulled on Draven’s arm, and tugged him back around. “You’ll hide. Here. In her room. Wait for her. Do not go galavanting off into these halls without myself, Nyssa, or Lex. Where is Balandria?”
“With the horses,” Draven replied. “You cannot expect me to sit in waiting while my love is hurting—”
“If you want to see her again without bars between you, you will,” Dorian demanded.
Draven’s hand clenched and unclenched at his side. “What is wrong with her?”
“She’s sick,” Dorian said.
“What do you mean sick?” Draven asked.
“I mean one day she’s fine, and the next she is vomiting all over the castle,” Dorian said. “Something is wrong.”
Draven’s heart plummeted. “What do the surgeons say?”
“Nothing. They tell her she has eaten something wrong. Idiots. They put her on liquids to try and stop the turning of her stomach.”
Draven’s chest constricted, and he swallowed hard. Dorian clapped his shoulder again.
“Wait for her here,” he repeated. “I’ll find your Second.”
Arbina’s waters, if anything, made the turn of Aydra’s stomach worse. She’d scrambled to the edge of the Throne room and vomited off the side of the cliff the second her body had been wrapped in the water.
Nyssa watched her helplessly, holding her hair back and then wrapping her arms around Aydra’s shoulders when she finally sat back. Lex was with them, standing guard so that no one else entered or found out they were there.
Aydra didn’t understand what was happening to her. She felt dizzy, couldn’t keep anything down. Her stomach felt of knives ripping through her flesh. Her phoenix had come to her both times she’d visited the Throne room, and its few moments of reprieve, she’d found herself relaxed in its cold flames.
Nyssa helped her clothe herself, and then she and Lex escorted her back through the halls, Aydra’s hood up on her the entire time they walked. Aydra paused in front of her door, tired of the attention for the day.
“I will be fine, Nys,” Aydra assured her. “Go. You have to continue on as if nothing is wrong.”
Nyssa took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll come back tonight with the liquids.” She pressed her forehead to Aydra’s just briefly, and then turned on her heel down the hall.
“Will you allow me to stay?” Lex begged.
Aydra sighed and nodded. “You’re the only one here not pitying me at every second. You can stay.”
Lex smiled and kissed Aydra’s forehead. “I’ve never been the pitying type.”
Aydra opened the door to her room then, and she nearly tripped at the sight of someone standing up from her bed. A knot formed in her chest, and her knees weakened.
“Draven.”
He bounded across the room to her, and she nearly jumped into his arms. His grasp tightened around her and he whirled her off the floor.
