Maps of the southern shores, of the Forest dwellings. She paused at this one, staring at the vastness of the forest home she realized she’d only seen a fraction of. Another set of drawings caught her eyes, and she pulled one page up to the top of the pile, finding on it the drawing of one of the Noctuans— the Rhamocour.
The dragon-like beast was sketched deliberately into the parchment. Long neck raised, great wings spread out, each the same length as its body. The drawing made the beast look like it was all black as smoke, whisps drawn around it as though to signify it as a shadow. But what stood stark was the great horns on its head, and the apple green color the eyes had been filled with.
“You know—”
Aydra jumped so quickly at the sound of Draven’s voice that she nearly fell to the floor.
“—The last time someone snooped in my things, they found themselves in the middle of Berdijay territory on the last night of the Deads.”
Draven was leaned against the frame of the door, shadows over his features as he stared pointedly at her.
“Sweet Arbina, Draven,” she managed, willing her heart to even pace. “Can you—” Her words ceased at the sight of him. A great slash ripped through his shirt, his forearm bleeding from what looked like a scrape.
“What happened to you?” she asked breathlessly.
His jaw tightened, and he pushed off the wall to go towards the tub. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Tomorrow night. In the meantime, drink your potion and get back in bed. I need you well enough to not have to worry about your safety in the Forest tomorrow night.”
Aydra rose to her feet, and she hobbled around to the front of the desk. “So demanding, Venari,” she mused. “Should I look forward to this kind of dominating leer on our journey?” she attempted to banter.
The rate at which he was suddenly in front of her made her gasp. Papers flew onto the floor. He grasped her hips and pushed her to the top of the desk, his hands pressing her wrists into the wood as his torso came flush with hers. Her breath caught, and she found herself frozen to the spot. His hair tickled her shoulders as he stared down at her, his face only inches from hers.
“Careful what you ask for, Sun Queen.”
Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears at the noise of his growl. She swallowed hard, and in that moment decided to play his game. Her head tilted up at him, exposing her neck. Her thighs squeezed around his hips, pointed toes and heels digging into the backs of his thighs, and she felt her mouth open just slightly as her eyes darted from his sage orbs to his lips. She swore she heard a low groan emit from his throat as she her thighs tightened around him.
“Remember who you’re playing with,Forest King.”
His eyes fluttered for only a moment, and then a small smirk rose on his lips. He glanced down at her lips before suddenly taking a step away from her. “Right,” he muttered with a raise of his brows.
Aydra’s breath returned, and she stared after him as he finished crossing to the tub, where he started pumping the water into it.
The raven flew inside and landed on the desk, where it tapped its beak on the potion cup. Aydra snapped out of her daze and grasped it in her hands.
She shot the rest of it back into her mouth and pushed herself to the bed before she could allow her feet to go to the tub with him.
It was much past dark when Aydra awoke to the noise of a lullaby echoing through the forest. She recognized it immediately, and welcomed the one whom it belonged to. She hobbled out to the deck and sat on the lounge chair so that she could better hear it. She’d heard it once before, a very long time ago, when she’d been taken to the Forest with Zoria.
It was the sweet melody of the Bygon, Samar. The only one left of her kind. She lived in creeks and waters, taking form during the Deads to lure wandering men into her grasp. Her lullaby would rock them into a slumber they didn’t want to be parted from, and then she would devour their blood while they slept.
Her voice grew louder as Aydra snuggled further into the blanket around her on the chair. And when a brisk wind swept through the balcony, Aydra looked towards the misting fog in front of her.
“Hello, Samar,” Aydra called.
Samar’s womanly figure appeared from within the fog. She rose out of it not as smoke appearing to figure, but as bone first, followed by muscle and blood, until the skin wrapped around her, creating the corporal being that came to sit on the railing.
Samar smiled dreamily and twirled her stark straight black hair in her fingers.
“Queen Aydra,” Samar purred with a nod. “It has been a long time.”
“Your lullaby is even more beautiful than I remember,” Aydra said.
Samar smiled. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company on this turn of the Deads?”
“Shadow thieves.” Aydra pointed to the whelps around her ankles. “What about you? I did not think you to venture inside their homes when you’ve so few nights to hunt.”
“I come on occasion of the King’s call,” Samar replied.
Aydra frowned. “I did not hear the horn.”
