Draylon took a sip of wine, wishing for something far more potent, but he needed a clear head. He rose, strode to the door, and engaged the lock. “As you can see, Yarif isn’t dead.”
A full smile bloomed to life, replacing Avestan’s frown. “Father will be so pleased.”
Draylon shook his head. “No, he won’t. You see, brother, Father planned Yarif's death.”
The blood drained from Avestan’s face. “Father? Surely not! Why would he?”
Draylon sucked in a deep breath. They were all doomed if Avestan bought into the emperor’s plans. “He wanted the kingdoms angry, ready to follow him into battle against Delletina. He wants their lands and resources.”
A frown wrinkle appeared between Avestan’s brows. “But…” His confusion gave way to understanding. “We’ve been lied to.”
“Yes, we have. King Niam helped save Yarif. He also would consider joining the empire… if certain conditions are met. Commander Illa was behind the kidnapping.”
“Commander Illa?” Avestan snorted. “Father’s pet soldier and spy.”
“One and the same.” Draylon kept his voice low, hoping to minimize discomfort for his husband. “She took Yarif. I left with no soldiers, only Rufe, as Father forbade me from going after my husband.”
“He what?”
“Illa beat Yarif, wanted the wounds to be days old to show he’d been tortured over time. Her orders were to kill him and ensure his body was found on Delletina soil.” Now that Draylon seemed to have Avestan’s support, the whole sordid story spilled out of him.
Yarif gave no sign of distress other than to reach out with his hand, which Draylon took. Once he’d told his tale, he sank into his chair, exhausted as though he’d run for miles.
Avestan shook his head, addressing Yarif this time. “Poor Yarif. Are you sure you’re well?”
“As well as can be expected,” Yarif replied, tone emotionless. He looked exhausted, but Draylon dared not suggest he rest. Yarif, more than anyone, deserved to be in on the planning and confront the emperor.
“Good.” Avestan snatched the armband off and aimed the scrap of black cloth toward the fire.
“No!” Draylon snatched the band from the air. “Until we’ve spoken to Father, we must pretend his plan succeeded.”
“Whatever you need, brother, I will give.” Avestan clasped Draylon’s hand.
Warmth spread over Draylon at the connection and how readily Avestan offered support. Now to see just how far he’d be willing to go. “Even if it means you becoming emperor sooner rather than later?”
Chapter Thirty-six
Draylonstoppedbyhisrooms after speaking with Avestan and retrieved a few items he’d left behind in his rush to leave Renvalle.
Yarif picked up the golden hairpin he’d worn to their wedding, ran a hand over his shorn hair, then tucked the ornament into his tunic pocket. May sent up a servant’s cloak, which Draylon helped arrange to hide Yarif’s face from view.
Draylon met Avestan in the hallway. Without a word they marched into the emperor’s office, Draylon in full battle armor, with a sword at his hip and back and knives secured around his legs and wrists. He could kill a dozen people and stroll out of the office before anyone could stop him. Let Father not forget who provided the might for the empire. Anger poured through Draylon’s veins. He plopped his helmet onto the desk, still bearing dents from the last battle.
A battle fought at Father’s command. Let him see and understand the critical nature of this visit.
Avestan stood behind Draylon, a sturdy, broody presence, while Yarif held back. Dressing as a servant guaranteed Father wouldn’t acknowledge him.
Had Father always been so arrogant?
A trio of secretaries startled, eyeing Father for instruction. Draylon had no doubts about the imposing figure he presented, even before adding the tools of war.
Father created him to be the power behind the throne.
“Leave us,” Father roared.
The secretaries dashed through the door, the last out slamming the heavy wooden panel behind him. They’d likely alert guards, but none had stopped Draylon on his way in, despite the arrest order Vihaan mentioned.
One had even smiled and dipped her chin in acknowledgement.
