The wind engulfed the courtyard walls into a cyclone.
Belwarks fell off balance as it knocked them every way. Arrows flew everywhere but their targets. Necks cracked as some fell over the side of the wall.
The pommel of a sword hit Draven in the back of the head, and the wind ceased at an instant.
Aydra lunged as his knees gave way beneath him. “Wait—” Hands grabbed her arms, and she pulled on their grips. “Get your hands off me!” She stomped the foot of the one holding her. Her head launched into the nose of the one in front of her, and she bolted forward again just as two Belwarks picked Draven’s unconscious body up to his knees.
“Let him go!”
Belwarks grabbed her forcefully this time, causing her to be picked up off her feet, legs kicking in the air as she was still trying to get to him. The crows were circling, waiting for her orders. She seethed through her gritted teeth.
Kill—
The sight of Ash stepping up in front of Draven with his sword drawn made her orders cease. Ash pulled Draven’s head up by his hair, tip of his blade pointed at Draven’s throat. Ash paused and looked back at her.
“Stand your swarm down or I spill his blood over this yard,” Ash warned.
Aydra forced herself to breathe. She nearly choked on her own spit as she glared at the Dreamer before her.
“A right hero you are, Ash,” she spat. “Only able to threaten the life of the great Venari King once you’ve had your lackeys subdue him.”
Ash’s jaw tightened. “Stand down,” he repeated.
Aydra stared through him a moment longer, feeling her body shake as she contemplated whether he would actually kill Draven.
Her core finally released the crows, and they flittered to silence around the courtyard.
“On what grounds have you to detain us?” she growled.
Ash pushed his sword back in its sheath, and he shoved Draven back into the arms of two Belwarks.
“Treason.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
THEY WERE TAKEN to the Throne Room.
The Council was all there already, lined up on either side of the throne chairs. Movement caught the corner of her eye as they entered, and she looked up to see her youngers, Lex and Corbin at their sides, standing between the throng of Belwark guards above them in the gallery.
Draven was forced to his knees, chains latched around his wrists at the edge of Arbina’s pool facing sideways. He was shaking his head as though regaining consciousness when she and the Nitesh were walked to the edge of the pool near him. He looked up at her through the strangles of his hair, and then she could see his gaze narrow as he realized where they were.
The color disappeared from his face. He struggled against the irons. “Drae—”
Her jaw set, and she shook her head at him. “It’s too late,” she mouthed.
Draven’s eyes widened, and his movements ceased. She could see the fight within him draining just as hers was.
The noise of hobbled steps filled her ears, and Aydra’s heart dropped as she knew who was coming.
It was the first she’d seen her brother since she’d been labeled a prisoner in her own kingdom.
Bard walked behind Rhaif. He didn’t look at her as he passed, his great cloak pulled heavily around his shoulders. And when he sat and finally looked at her, she felt her chin rise higher in the air in defiance of the satisfied arrogance he had plastered on his features.
A long scar streaked across his right eye. The socket was closed, mangled as though it had been melted. A streak of his hair was missing over his right ear.
A shadow passed over the sun.
Aydra’s gaze darted over the members staring at her, tightened jaws and glares resting on all their faces.
