Chapter 7
Draevyn
Draevyn and Atlas barely spoke the entire way up to his chambers. When they arrived, he ordered the guards away and told them to not speak of anything they saw before slamming the door in their faces.
Elowynne, Atlas’s soon-to-be wife from the Elven Kingdom of Sumnae, stood near the hearth as its fire crackled. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, but Draevyn caught the way her eyes flicked toward him, assessing and calculating.
Draevyn took a few steps toward her but stopped halfway, feeling uneasy beneath her gold and green gaze. “Apologies for the circumstances, Miss. I’m Draev—”
“Very aware of who you are, Draevyn. I was there on that rescue mission. I’m the one who cleaned your many wounds. I apologize for not being there when you woke up.”
His brows furrowed at her sharp words.
Her head cocked to the side as she continued to assess him. “My name is Elowynne Everhartt. It’s nice to actually meet you, Your Highness.”
There was a bit of a bite in her tone that Draevyn couldn’t place, but when he looked at Atlas, he saw nothing but pride in his brother’s grey eyes as he stared at his betrothed.
Atlas exhaled slowly as he moved toward them. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Draevyn? You nearly killed him!” he snapped, stepping forward. “Grabbing the king by the throat. By the gods, do you have a death wish?”
Draevyn didn’t flinch. “As I said before… he deserved worse.”
His brother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We’re not boys throwing tantrums anymore. You cannot afford to act on your rage.”
Draevyn scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve burned him where he stood.”
Atlas made a noise of protest. “And what would that have accomplished?”
Draevyn turned away, fists balling at his sides. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out reason as his temper still smoldered within. “He killed Blackwood.”
Atlas stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You know as well as I do Father has been waiting for you to make a mistake—to give him a reason to be rid of you. And you were willing to give it to him over the wretched pirate king?!”
“Your outburst has already cost you his favor. You’re lucky he only ordered one night in the dungeons,” Elowynne chimed in, her voice calm but firm.
Draevyn laughed humorlessly as he turned to her. “You think I care about his favor?”
“No,” Atlas said, stepping between the two in her defense. “But you care about her.”
Elowynne’s head reared back, eyes flaring. “Her? Who’s her?”
Draevyn blew out a breath as he searched for the words. “She’s—”
“She’s the bitch who kidnapped him and swept him away on her ship that night,” Atlas cut him off.
Draevyn whirled on him, jaw agape. “Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you ever call her that again.” He tried to hide the embers burning at his fingertips. “Ever.”
“It’s the truth. That’s what she is,” Elowynne defended Atlas.
“It’s so much more than that. And if you wouldn’t mind, this is a family matter,” Draevyn growled.
“She’s to be my wife, Drae. Elowynne stays.”
Draevyn lifted his stare over Atlas’s shoulder to meet hers and saw that defiant glare he recognized all too well, so similar to Esmyra’s.
May the gods help them if the two ever met.
He let out a long breath. “She has a name, and it’s Esmyra. I was her captive until I… wasn’t.” He knew the words were barely convincing. “It’s a very long story, but she’s in trouble. We found Maerinys, and she’s still down there. I can’t abandon her. I won’t.”
Draevyn’s eyes burned—not with fire, but with something deeper he couldn’t name.
“Esmyra needs our help,” he continued. “It’s the king’s fault we were down there, I might add. If he hadn’t been a greedy prick, demanding answers about Maerinys, I never would’ve been with her in the first place. And now, he won’t stop until he’s taken everything from her.”
Draevyn pushed down the awful words that kept rising to the surface of his mind: He’s already taken everything from her.
All she had left was her crew, and they would face the noose if Draevyn didn’t find a way to free them.
Elowynne studied him carefully. “You truly care for this woman?”
“I do,” Draevyn admitted without hesitation.
“Does she even feel the same way?” Atlas cut in.
The memory of fury-ridden glacial eyes flashed across his mind as she stared at him from his bedroom door in Maerinys.
“I’m not so sure anymore.” His words were barely a whisper.
Atlas threw his hands up, accompanied with a frustrated eyeroll. “What the fuck, Drae!”
Draevyn shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath. I really don’t give a damn who believes me anymore.”
His brother stepped up to him. “I know you’re not a liar, Draevyn.”
“Just help us better understand,” Elowynne interjected.
I know you’re not a liar. It was the opposite of what everyone else had ever said to him all his life.
So, he did. Draevyn explained once again everything he told Atlas on the ship before docking in Lephyrin’s harbor, only this time in significantly more detail—of waking up on Esmyra’s ship, falling through the cave, fighting the krechuums together, finding Maerinys and the crypt held within.
And lastly, of what Syrena had done to break Esmyra’s trust in him.
Within hours of finally having her, Draevyn felt like he’d lost everything before he fully had it in his grasp.
Because that was what Esmyra had become.
Everything.
Draevyn had never imagined she would truly see him.
Not the Phoenix the world whispered of, or the mask he wore so willingly, but the raw, unguarded truth beneath.
He’d always carried that darkness like armor, letting fear and rumor shape the man the realm thought he was—the man his king made him out to be.
Yet with one unflinching glance, Esmyra had pierced it. And in the depths of her gorgeous eyes, he’d seen the same fierce and untamed soul in a mirror that matched every fracture of his own.
Regardless of her starting as his enemy, they were already bound and woven together from a past life. And that truth could never be undone. Not to him, anyway.
So, he wouldn’t give up on her. He couldn’t.
Draevyn watched their conflicting emotions. Atlas seemed to pity him, while Elowynne looked at him with something resembling respect.
“You’re going to have to be smarter about this moving forward, Draevyn,” Atlas finally said. “Which means no more storming into the throne room trying to set our father on fire.”
The chamber settled into tense silence, the only sound the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth.
Draevyn exhaled through his nostrils and gave a sharp nod.
“I will say, though,” Atlas began again, “I did quite enjoy watching you punch Varis in the face. That must’ve felt great. I’m a little jealous to be honest.”
Draevyn snorted. “At least one good thing came from today.”
“But for now, you need to do what the king expects.” Atlas gave him a pointed look. “Fall in line. Act as though you regret what happened.”
Draevyn scoffed but didn’t argue. The king was already watching him like a predator waiting for its prey to turn its back.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. I’ll go back to playing the obedient son.” Even thinking about having to tolerate his father again had his flames thrashing in his chest.
Atlas pressed on. “The tithe is in three days.”
Draevyn already knew that. He’d been thinking about it since the moment his brother freed him from the dungeons.
The annual tithe was the day of the year where the castle doors would open for people from every corner of the kingdom, flooding in with their tributes for their king: gold, artifacts, and goods.
It was the one day the king would be distracted, the guards spread thin and their focus elsewhere.
The day where his father would collect his taxes from his kingdom, promising them something more after pretending to listen to their pleas and begging.
He falsely promised more power to make Lephyrin the greatest kingdom of Rymelle.
Draevyn wondered if their kingdom had caught on over the years. That the only place their money and offerings went was in the king’s pocket while their pleas fell on deaf ears.
“The king won’t want me there.” Draevyn let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“No,” Atlas said. “But he’ll want Lephyrin’s Phoenix there.”
Fucking Irah.
Draevyn began mapping out the halls of the castle in his mind, already picturing the guards at their posts, imagining how he would slip past them and make his way back down to the dungeons undetected. The tithe would be the perfect day to break out the crew.
Atlas and Elowynne likely thought he would play along and be patient, but he had no intention of waiting.
Something was coming. Whether it was Esmyra or Kaelypso, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, he knew it was deadly. And Draevyn prayed to all those wretched gods he wasn’t too late to reach her and make her realize the truth.
Three days.
Three days to prepare.
Three days until he set everything in motion.