“Glad to know you’ve not lost your fight whilst being entrapped her,” he mocked.
“I am not entrapped here.”
His hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at her, and the smile on his lips met his eyes. She swallowed hard at the sight of it, how the anger had faded, and a playfulness had replaced it. She had never denied his handsomeness, the stern angered facade he always wore being one that quelled her interest, but not one she’d ever allowed herself to think more of. He was the enemy King, yet not, of the southern realms. Born of a cursed race she’d been taught to think less of throughout her years.
“Goodnight, Aydra,” he said to her then.
Her name coming from his lips made her eyes squint just briefly. He turned away and started down the steps from the deck. The noise of his brothers and sisters welcoming him to their fire chats filled her ears. One of them clapped him on his shoulder and rattled him, laughing as they told some joke at his expense.
The Venari are beneath you,she’d been told, No matter what these people say, no matter this ‘equality’ previous kings swore to them. Never turn your back on a Venari.
Lies.
There stood a man, a race of people, who bled for their own, for Haerland. A race of misunderstood beings whom the Chronicles had betrayed because of the wrongdoings of their giver and the curses on their heads. There stood a man worthy of the crown he dared not wear except at banquet, a man who walked and fought equally with his people, not above them or watching on the sidelines as they died.
She allowed the flames to dance in her eyes a few moments longer, and as he gazed up at her again, she watched a tiny smile rise on his lips, and then he turned away once more.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ON HER FOURTH day, Draven gave her more of the tonic so that she would actually stay in bed instead of trying to walk. He told her she was being stubborn, and that if she didn’t stay in bed that day, that he would be forced to strap her into it.
So she took the tonic and surrendered to the weight of it on her mind and body as it forced her to sleep.
A dreamless slumber met her, and the next thing she knew, the warmth of the darkness swallowed her whole. She only awoke when a shouting somewhere in the distance broke her out of it so harshly that she bolted upright in the bed.
The shrill noise calmed outside, but it rang in her ears for moments after. It was dark outside, but the fireplace behind the tub was lit, its last embers hanging on as it died a warm glow, along with a couple of flame-filled lanterns on various surfaces scattered about the room.
The high-pitched wailing vibrated the wood once more, and she knew exactly what it was that had awoken her.
Infi children had been born beneath Duarb’s roots.
The next wail send a shiver down her spine. It reminded her of an animal dying slowly, crying out in agony as its insides were ripped from its core. The screech of the Aviteth poured through the air, and she reminded herself that was probably exactly what was happening to the Infi children.
She hugged her knees into her chest and allowed the sudden cold wind to surround her body.
The wailing only lasted a few minutes more, but it made her feel as empty as the Spy’s void had. Her nose burned of emotion as she thought of what it was the Venari were having to do since one or more had been born. She could not imagine the torture that having to end such a life would have on a person.
It was an hour later that she heard boots hitting the wood of the steps. And when Draven’s figure turned the corner and he strode through the door, her eyes widened at the bewildering sight of him.
He was covered in dark, nearly black, blood. It was much darker than she was used to seeing beneath her own skin. His hair fell out of the bun he had it in, and the stains of the sticky substance covered parts of his hairline. He didn’t acknowledge her as he strode over to the dresser.
His fist punched into the vase sitting atop it, and the glass shattered to the floor.
“Draven?” she said into the still air.
His head jerked in her direction, doing a double-take at her as he had apparently forgotten she was there. “Shit,” she heard him mutter. He pulled a shirt out of the dresser and shook his head at her. “Go back to sleep.”
“I heard the wailing,” Aydra said as she hugged the blanket around her.
Draven stopped moving, but he didn’t respond. She could see the hurt reflecting in his eyes from the fire-lit lantern on the dresser.
“How many were born?” she dared ask.
“Go back to sleep, Sun Queen,” he growled as he turned on his heel towards the wash, “don’t bother worrying about us cursed ones.”
He turned the tap on the water for the clawed bathtub on the other side of the room. The three sectioned screen was pulled to the front around the tub, but she could still see him behind it, and she couldn’t stop herself from watching from the darkened bed.
The stick of his shirt thudded on the wooden floor, staining and running on the lumber. His pants did the same, and she felt a brow raise on her face at the sight of the Hunter’s body she’d long sworn to hate silhouetted in the firelight. She could just see parts of his stained chest reflecting. The blood dripped down his long torso, curling in the blackened hair stretched over his pecs and then thinning between his abdomen muscles, all the way below his bellybutton. He turned and the ripple of his shoulders made her mouth dry just as it had the days before. He didn’t bother wiping himself off before getting in the tub and sinking himself into the hot water, steam rising off the surface as his body disappeared beneath it.
