Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I t isn’t until Draven has walked in through the balcony door and set me down in the middle of the living room that I finally realize where we are. Frowning, I glance at the wooden floorboards and the dark gray fabric of the furniture. He brought me back to his rooms?
“You need to change into better clothes,” Draven declares as he disappears into the bathroom. Water splashes as he washes the blood off his hands and face. Then he strides towards one of the drawers by the wall. “And I need to clean that wound so that it can heal faster. Take off your dress.”
But my mind still cannot accept what I have just learned, so all that makes it out of my mouth is, “You’re the Red Hand.”
Draven yanks open a drawer and begins pulling out what looks like some sort of medical kit. But he glances over his shoulder at my words, and disbelief flits across his face. “Are we really going to have this conversation right now?”
I stare back at him with equal disbelief. “Yes!”
“They might be coming for us.”
“Then let’s go.”
“I need to treat your wound first.”
“Exactly. Then you can do that and talk at the same time.” Holding his gaze, I shake my head and just repeat, “You are the Red Hand.”
He shoves the drawer shut again and strides back to me with a bunch of supplies in his arms. “Yes.” Objects clatter as he drops the items on his desk and then jerks his chin towards the chair next to it. “Sit.”
While staggering over to the chair, I blurt out, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were working for the human resistance?”
“I’m not working for the human resistance. I didn’t even know that they were planning a damn heist tonight until they circulated word through their network earlier this week, asking me to help them by killing the guards outside the treasury.” He locks piercing eyes on me as he then retorts with, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were working for the rebellion?”
I open my mouth to snap back at him, but then I realize that he has a point. Why am I expecting him to trust me with these kinds of dangerous secrets when I don’t trust him with mine? If I had actually told him about all of this, like I have been considering doing for weeks now, he would probably have told me about his own secret missions as well. I let out a humorless huff of laughter. I guess we both have some trust issues to work on.
“When did you even have the opportunity to sneak around and do this kind of work for them?” he asks.
“When you snuck out during the night to hunt the Red Hand. Or rather, to be the Red Hand, I suppose.” I shake my head at him. “I can’t believe you’ve actually been helping them all this time.”
Then a small yelp slips from my lips as Draven grabs me by the hips and pushes me down in the chair that I had already forgotten that I was supposed to sit down on. After I’m seated, he drags over another chair and sits down next to me. His fingers are gentle as he pushes the torn fabric aside and inspects the wound.
“My goals have occasionally aligned with the humans’ missions,” Draven continues while he reaches for a bottle on the desk. “So yes, I’ve helped them as the Red Hand on occasion. But my own mission has always been to destabilize Frostfell as much as possible. And it’s so much easier to get things done when I work alone, so in this city, I never actually joined the resistance.” He lets out something between an annoyed sigh and a huff of laughter while he pulls the stopper out of the bottle and pours some of it on a clean piece of cloth. “I learned that from my first attempt, which isn’t going nearly as well.”
For a few seconds, I just stare at him. He leans forward and runs the piece of cloth over my wound. A hiss escapes my lips as the liquid he poured on it stings when it comes into contact with my open wound. Then a sudden realization hits me.
“Mabona’s tits.” I gape at Draven while he quickly cleans the dried blood from my wound. “ That’s why you were so unnecessarily cruel to the humans in your supposed search for the Red Hand. You were trying to make them angry. You were purposely trying to turn the whole city against the Icehearts.”
“Yes.” He tosses the now red piece of cloth on the table and meets my gaze. “This needs stitching.”
“Then stitch it.”
“I have nothing that will dull the pain.”
“I can handle it.”
He holds my gaze for a few seconds before giving me a slow nod. Then he turns back towards the supplies. Faint metallic rattling sounds as he picks up a small box and fishes out a needle. While he reaches for the spool of thread, something else he said finally makes it through my mind.
“Wait,” I begin, staring at him in confusion. “What do you mean, in this city, you never joined the rebellion?”
He threads the needle, avoiding my gaze. “Exactly what I said.”
It suddenly feels as if time itself stops. I can hear every beat of my heart. It pounds in my ears like giant bells. Sitting there on the chair, I stare at Draven while understanding washes through me like cold water.
“No,” I breathe.
Draven says nothing, only draws the thread through the eye of the needle and then leans forward.
“The mask is white,” I say, speaking the first half of the code phrase that we use back in the Seelie Court to secretly communicate that we are members of the fae resistance.
Draven looks up and meets my gaze.
My heart thumps in my chest.
“And very hard to take off,” he replies, speaking the second half of the code phrase that signals that he is also a member of the resistance and that it’s safe to talk.
Something between a gasp and an unsteady breath rips from my lungs. My head is pounding.
“This is going to sting,” Draven says, and then without waiting for me to reply, pushes the needle through my skin.
The pulse of pain jolts me out of my shock and snaps me back to the present.
Gripping the edge of the desk hard, I try to keep my wits about me as I stare at Draven in open-mouthed shock. “You’re a member of our resistance.”
“Yes,” he confirms. Then his gaze flicks up to me for a second before he continues stitching my wound. “Why do you think I was there that day?”
My mind spins as I stare at him. “What day?”
“That day when you threw your drink in my face.” His gaze remains focused on the needle, but I can hear the truth clang in every word as he says, “I was one of the people in masks running down the stairs. After ditching the mask and cloak, I came back in through the side door to stall the patrol. And then I found you there.”
“No,” I breathe again, even though I know that he is telling the truth.
A small smile tugs at his lips as he meets my gaze again and shakes his head at me as if in disbelief. “Why else would I have been there? I’m the fucking Commander of the Dread Legion. What would I be doing in a random tavern in the Seelie Court on a random afternoon?”
Pain pulses through my side as Draven continues stitching, but I can barely feel it. I can barely feel anything other than shock. And fury at my own stupidity. How could I not have seen it earlier? How could I not have figured it out sooner?
“And then there you were, already trying to distract the patrol,” Draven picks up. “But I couldn’t let the squad leader punish you for that, so I had to intervene.” A short laugh escapes his lips. “And then you threw your drink in my face.” He shakes his head. “Azaroth’s flame, little rebel, it has been decades since someone managed to surprise me like that.”
Little rebel. He has been calling me little rebel all this time, for Mabona’s sake. How could I not have figured it out?
Then his expression turns serious as he meets my gaze again. “I have watched you for years. Seen the way you always try to help and always put everyone else first. And seen how people distrust you and hate you for something that isn’t your fault. And I felt a connection. I knew that I had found someone who understood what it’s like to be hated for something that you haven’t chosen.”
My heart squeezes tight.
Draven holds my gaze with those intense eyes of his. I feel like he is waiting for me to say something, but I can’t make my lips move. He lets out a small sigh and continues stitching. But he keeps speaking.
“I tried to get you promoted,” he says. “To move you up the chain and into more important positions in the resistance. But the other leaders didn’t trust you. They refused. And because I can’t be there all the time, I needed them to work efficiently without me so that I could get you all to finally launch your rebellion to bring down the Icehearts. So I had to let you remain a lookout.” He ties off the thread and then puts the needle back on the table. “But I watched you.”
Emotions twist inside my chest like strangling vines.
Draven stands up from the chair. I scramble to my feet as well.
“And then I found you kneeling on that field and realized that you had signed up for this farce of a trial,” he continues. “I did everything I could to make you drop out without blowing my cover.”
I drag in an unsteady breath, my chest feeling far too crowded.
Something almost like pain flickers in Draven’s eyes for a moment. Reaching up, he slides his fingers gently over my jaw and then cups my cheek. “I’ve been falling for you for years, from afar, but then I truly got to know you during the Atonement Trials.” A wistful smile blows across his handsome face. “And then that day when you patted my cheek and said good talk , I fell in love with you utterly and completely.”
My heart jerks in my chest, and a broken noise comes from the back of my throat. Love. He loves me? I feel as if there is not enough air left in the room. My heart feels like it is both swelling with light and cracking like fragile glass at the same time.
Draven holds my gaze. “I didn’t even know that we were mates until that day when the mate bond snapped into place. And after that, it was almost impossible to keep my hands off you. To stay away from you.” Pain flickers in his eyes again, and he drops his hand from my cheek and takes a step back. “And now, you need to leave.”
The sudden loss of his warm hand against my cheek leaves me breathless, as if I have been plunged into an icy lake. But Draven is already moving.
“Go and change into your normal clothes,” he orders while he strides towards a cabinet by the bookshelf. “I’ll get you some food. You’ll need it so that your wound can heal.”
I stagger towards my room, feeling shellshocked. As I quickly strip out of the dress and change into my pants and shirt and boots, I try desperately to reshape my world so that everything makes sense again.
But no matter how hard I try, nothing makes sense.
Draven is secretly working with both the human rebellion and the fae resistance. And has been for years. Decades. All this time, I have considered him my worst enemy, when in reality, he has done more for my cause than anyone else. And far more than me. He has been risking his life for years while secretly trying to kickstart rebellions from all sides. But at the same time, he has been obeying the Icehearts’ every word. It doesn’t make sense.
My heart aches as I walk back into the living room, now dressed in more practical clothes. Draven has thrown off those dark gray clothes that he was using as a disguise, revealing his black dragon scale armor underneath, and has strapped his massive sword down his spine as well. He has also managed to grab some dried meat and cheese from his cabinet. It waits on the desk in a small pile.
“Eat,” he commands, and points towards it.
I numbly drop down in the chair and begin inhaling the food. My mind still spins. I shake my head while still trying to gather my wits.
“Goddess above,” I breathe between bites. “I wish you would’ve told me.”
Regret pulses across his face as he stands there next to me, watching me gulp down the food. He swallows and glances away for a second. “I was trying to protect you.” Then he draws in a deep breath and meets my gaze head on. “But I was wrong. You don’t need protecting.” A wicked smile, full of approval, spreads across his face. “It’s the world that needs protection from you.”
I swallow down the final bite of cheese and then grab the last strip of dried meat. Energy is already flowing back into my body.
Draven heaves a sigh and rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. In hindsight, I know I should have. But I was terrified that it would only put you in even more danger. You’ve seen what they’ve done to Isera and Alistair. I’ve been keeping my own people in the dark for the same reason. The Icehearts are more vicious than you can imagine.”
After swallowing the final bite of food, I give Draven a small smile. “Well, to be fair, I could have chosen to trust you too. But I didn’t. So you’re not the only one to blame.” I give him a pointed look. “I wish you would have warned me about Lavendera, though.”
A jolt shoots through his body, and he stands up straight while panic pulses across his face. “Lavendera?”
“Yeah.” I scowl in annoyance at the memory. “She’s the one who sold us out. Why didn’t you tell me that she worked for the Icehearts?”
He opens his mouth to reply, but then just closes it again. Frustration and alarm swirl in his eyes as he casts a hurried look towards the door. “You’ve talked to Lavendera about this?”
“Well, yes and?—”
Panic shines on his whole face as he snaps his gaze back to me. “I need to get you out. Now.”
A massive force crashes into the front door.