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“By avoiding an onslaught of questions I don’t have the answers to.” Remembering who she was talking to, Lily invited back her foul mood. “But no, I can’t say I trust anyone who expresses wanting to kill a child.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence before he spoke again. The words were a warning, but it and his prior sarcasm were absent from his tone. “He’s honestly safer by your side.”
Lily’s throat dried watching the boy bound carefree around the field. So many gods damned mistakes made so quickly…
“And I never said I wanted to kill him.”
Lily scoffed. “Right. Only that it benefits you.”
“Freeing that Flare and letting it choose its next vessel benefits so many more than just me.”
She jolted to a stop like an arrow landed in her path. She turned to face Draven fully, finding he had also stopped. Though he kept well out of arms’ reach, his eyes widened as if he’d been the one caught off guard.
“You actually… care about that?” she asked.
It shouldn’t be that surprising. He was working with the Argents, so wanting the empire demolished made sense—but doing it selflessly, for Eizreth, hell, for anyone but himself? Lily couldn’t believe it. He had to have an ulterior motive.
Her question weaved between the patter of rain until Draven finally opened his mouth. But just as it did this morning, his confidence fell apart, then returned in the blink of an eye. Shaking his head, he laughed to himself. “You told me you know exactly who I am. Surely you’ve heard what I can be. What was it? Heartless? It’s hard to care about anything without one.”
Lily kept him pinned with her stare, picturing the mural in the abandoned plaza. “So why are you working with Amalia?”
Draven stared back, blank and unreachable. “Why are you not working with her?”
Lily dropped her frustrated gaze to the sodden grass. I don’t owe him anything he isn’t willing to give me. With a huff, she spun around.
What she intended to do was seal her lips and continue walking, but instead, she glanced at the cloudy sky. It was a nice day despite the rain. In fact, it only was because of it. She may be sore and exhausted and gradually getting soaked, but at least she wasn’t also succumbing to heat exhaustion.
In the recesses of her mind, she knew the subtle change in her outlook wasn’t her doing. It didn’t matter. After almost an entire day of stress, its disappearance felt fantastic. The prospect of answering a question she kept almost exclusively to herself sounded equally as appealing.
“Amalia wants me to use the Wraith,” Lily said with a shrug. “And I don’t want to.”
She hardly noticed she was walking again until Draven made pace with her. “What do you mean?”
“She wants me to use the Wraith to kill people in the empire that—”
“No, I know that,” he cut her off, then straightened his posture and regained his composure with a sigh. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t want to?’”
“Just that.”
The look that crossed his face was utterly distrustful. “You killed a Reatian guard. In broad daylight.”
Lily’s emotions weren’t so wrapped up she couldn’t feel the pinch of guilt at the reminder. “That was an accident.”
“An accident,” he repeated, voice low.
Lily nodded apprehensively. Accident may not have been the right word, but it was the one that came to mind. “I’ve only killed with the Wraith twice, and I didn’t mean for either time to happen.” He turned away from her, bringing his right hand to his left, absently rubbing it. “I almost forgot about your arm.” Draven’s frustration returned with the clenching of his jaw. “Can I ask how it is?”
“Shouldn’t you know?”
“No?”
“Then I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“I”—she took a step away—“know it’s working again. Which is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
A rush of air shot from his nose. Maybe it’s that fragile, royal ego taking a hit, Lily thought. What else could be the problem? “I did warn you—”
“Put the coat on,” he grumbled.
