“Do you speak ill of your beloved mountain friends?” she asked, referring to the Blackhands.
“The Blackhands have nothing to fear, no reason to fret any such war coming to their homes. They stay to themselves and secure their own. I cannot fault them for that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “We would have sent aid,” she told him. “Had you asked for it.”
A laugh emitted from Draven’s lips, one that mocked and told her nearly all she needed to know about what exactly had been wrong with her brother before her leaving.
“Oh, you poor thing,” he scoffed. “You really knew nothing of it, did you?”
She eyed him from across the table, and he shook his head.
“Your brother knew all about the ship,” he informed her. “He knew everything. We asked for a Belwark patrol to be sent, to take one of these men back to Magnice alive so that your brother could question them. We offered that. We offered for him to take lead on the charge.” He paused and shook his head at her, still fumbling with the cup. “He refused to send aid. Refused to even acknowledge an enemy arriving on our shore. Simply told us to take care of it as though it were a hunting party. And this isn’t the first time.”
Aydra felt the color drain from her face. “That’s not… he wouldn’t. I am head of security. Anything threatening our borders should have gone through me. He would have told me.”
Draven huffed amusedly under his breath. “A title given to make you feel as though he trusts you, as though you have a place in his court. Nothing more.”
“I was not given such a title to simply execute wandering thieves,” she said through clenched teeth.
“No. I’m sure you chose to do that on your own,” he mused. “I think you crave getting your hands dirty.”
“I refuse to sit back and bark orders when I can take care of a problem myself.”
He stared at her a moment before pushing off the top of the table where he’d rested himself. He walked across the room to the desk where she’d seen letters upon letters strewn over the top of it, and he plucked the one on the top of the pile.
“You want evidence of your brother’s cowardice? Here it is.”
The letter flung into her lap, and he turned his back on her, striding to the opening out onto the deck to leave her sitting there. She stared at him, and then opened the letter. She recognized her brother’s handwriting at once.
What lands on Lovi’s shore is your problem, Venari. Take care of it.
Aydra nearly crumpled the letter between her tightened fists. She struggled to her feet and grasped the crutch in her hands, forcing herself out on the deck. The cool wind wrapped around her body. Draven’s back was to her. She could just see the outline of his figure from the great bonfire going down below them in the clearing.
“I am sorry, Draven,” she said softly. “I didn’t know.”
She saw him do a double-take and frown at her over his shoulder, eyebrows flickering surprise. But then he sighed, and the surprise she thought she’d glimpsed vanished. “I know you didn’t.”
“How many men did you lose?” she asked.
“Five. The Honest lost thirteen,” he answered. “It sounds like a small number to you, I am sure, but for us… when our children are born from Duarb’s roots with one of two fates, and the Infi claims a majority, every person counts.”
“I would have been here,” she assured him.
“Somehow I doubt your brother would have allowed you bring a guard of your own.”
“My brother doesn’t dictate everything I do. Nor does he own every single Belwark.”
He paused and looked her over deliberately. “No. I’m told you have a special way of luring them into your own company,” he mused with a raised brow.
The crutch clenched in her hands. “How I choose my pleasures is not your concern, Venari.”
He smirked and held his hands up. “I’ve no judgement for how you live your life. Every king has taken the liberty of multiple persons in their bed. Why should you not enjoy life’s pleasures simply because you are a woman?”
“And are you such a king?” she heard herself ask.
A pause washed over the air as they dared one another to blink.
“What do you think?” he asked.
