Chapter 40 #2
Draevyn’s jaw ticked as he peered over his shoulder at him.
“I arrived as the advisor,” he started, his eyes slowly finding their way back to the males guarding the door, “but if they want me to leave as the Phoenix, then who am I to deny them? They’re separating me from my king. The choice is simply theirs.”
He let every ounce of his aggravation bleed into the words as they hung in the air.
“You will face the wrath of your king,” one of the male’s said.
Draevyn smirked. “I’ll take my chances.”
The guards hesitated. A flicker of unease danced between them as uncertainty sharpened the lines around their mouths. One looked to the escorting guards as if waiting for them to rebuke him, but no one moved or uttered a word.
Then slowly, with obvious reluctance, the guards turned back and allowed the doors to creak open.
Draevyn’s pulse was deafening in his ears. How would Atlas react when he saw him? They were in a foreign kingdom after all, and he wouldn’t have a say in punishment. If the elvens found out he entered under false pretenses, they could hold him as a prisoner.
The moment the doors parted and Draevyn stepped into the throne room, the air shifted. Conversation halted, heads turned, and an eerie silence filled the room. All eyes snapped to him and the two men at his back.
The sudden attention pressed in like a vice, but he barely registered it. All thoughts evaporated from his mind, because just ahead, at the far end of the throne room, was Esmyra.
And she was being dragged away.
Two guards gripped her arms, her bare, bloodied feet smearing the marble as they pulled.
Her hair was wild, her clothes torn, and her wrists cuffed in what he could only assume was velsinyte.
She lifted her stare as he entered, and her eyes grew wide as they locked with his.
Her mouth fell open, confusion creeping across her features as if she couldn’t tell if he was real or not.
And then the guards pulled her through the farthest archway, out of sight.
Gone. Esmyra was there and fucking vanished before he could move.
Draevyn froze, his heart slamming against his ribs so hard it made his breath catch. His stomach twisted violently, his vision tunneling. He forced his hands to remain at his sides as they ached to burst with flames, and it took everything in him not to lunge across the room.
His jaw clenched. His face—he didn’t even know what expression it wore. Rage? Terror? Shock? He prayed it was blank, remaining neutral and guarded like the Phoenix.
He knew it wasn’t.
“…Draevyn?”
The word was soft, disbelieving even.
Draevyn’s gaze remained locked on the small trail of blood that led toward where she was taken before he lifted his eyes to meet his brother’s. Atlas stood beside the elven king in the center of the room, eyes wide. The look on his face wasn’t malicious or calculating.
It was pure, unguarded shock.
Draevyn blinked. Snapping out of his haze, he forced air into his lungs and stepped further into the room, each step loud in the echoing silence.
“I came as soon as I could,” he finally said, voice steady despite the roar in his head. “The ships at the docks are secured and set. Everything’s in place, my king.”
Atlas just stared at him. Confusion twisted across his features, quickly followed by the telltale tightening of his jaw, and the flicker of the Rowe anger behind his eyes.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it here in time,” Atlas said slowly. “Certainly not this soon.”
He’s playing along. Thank the g— ...actually no. Fuck the gods.
Draevyn offered a short nod. “I figured you’d want me here. Given the circumstances.”
His brother didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze flicked briefly toward the archway—the same one she’d been pulled through—and then narrowed back on him.
The tension in the room thickened like smoke. Every guard was watching their exchange, and each breath felt like it might betray him.
Draevyn tilted his head slightly, keeping his tone neutral. “And where is our prisoner being taken?”
The question hung heavy in the air, and the veins in his neck strained.
Atlas’s brow twitched. “Wherever she can be properly contained during questioning.”
A shadow rippled across the floor, coming through the high, arched ceiling. The faint silhouette of wings passed over the moonlight, spilling through the glass above as an owl swept overhead, its form briefly eclipsing the silver glow.
Jak. How could he signal to him? It was clear they weren’t able to find a way into the castle if he was flying overhead. Draevyn didn’t care how they got in anymore, he just needed them here. Finding her as he distracted the two kings.
His eyes drifted right back to the smeared blood on the floor, and rage burned in his veins like acid at the sight.
Esmyra had been harmed in one way or another, so all bets were fucking off.
Draevyn’s fingers moved, dipping into his coat pocket. He pulled out a shiny coin and rolled it across his knuckles casually. Each flick of his wrist had the gold catching the moonlight, sending brief flashes upward toward the windows.
A signal.
Still twirling the coin, Draevyn smirked, turning his attention back to his brother. “I can only hope you’re able to get more information out of her than we were able to.” His tone was sharp beneath the casual words.
A screech sounded overhead, and then Jak flew out of sight. But Draevyn just kept rolling the coin, letting it catch the moonlight one last time before slipping it back into his pocket.