Chapter 19 Rhea #4
“I don’t need to. I already know I have no thoughts on it nor do I care.”
He makes to walk past her, but the girl steps forward and curls her fingers around Draven’s annoyingly toned bicep—seriously, Rhea swears he must live to refine his muscles—and presses her chest into him while simultaneously tugging his arm into her as if she intended to hug it.
With Draven’s shirt being short-sleeved and her shirt cut the way it is, it brings them skin-to-skin.
“But it affects our aggregate,” she pleads. “If my mark has truly grown, don’t you realize what that means?”
Draven glances back over his shoulder, rage flaring in his eyes. “Remove yourself from my skin before I am forced to remove you myself.”
The girl’s mouth pops open, and she makes a show of letting go and stepping back.
“You’re not listening to me. Ever since that fucking lowborn whore showed up, you’ve stopped listening.
Stopped caring about your own gods-damn aggregate.
” There is an undertone of genuine hurt threading through her words.
Draven turns around slowly—scarily so. He faces the girl with a horrifying look so empty, so cold, it sends a chill down Rhea’s spine.
“Say that again,” he commands, voice low enough to reach the under realm.
“I—I—” The girl flounders for words before she snaps her mouth shut and straightens her spine, lifting her chin to peer up at Draven.
“It’s true,” she says steadily. “Everyone in Elefet is thinking it. Ever since that servant girl showed up for the exams, you’ve been distracted.
And now after she’s disappeared? You’ve been fucking absent.
You are our captain, Draven. You are supposed to command us.
Guide us. Help us. But frankly? Ever since that lowborn flittered through this place, it seems like you couldn’t give two fucks less what happens within our aggregate.
What happens to us.” She slams her palm against her chest, clutching at her heart.
Draven remains expressionless. “I don’t.” Then he prowls toward the girl, his caged anger palpable.
Rhea blinks against what she thinks she’s seeing. Because there is no way something as trivial and minor as this is actually causing Draven’s veins to turn black—something he normally has on a tight leash.
“Let me be clear,” he says, the calm hum of his voice scarier than any creature.
“If it ever came down to it, and I was forced to choose between any members of this aggregate or her, I would choose her. No matter the circumstances. No matter the costs. No matter if the fucking stars would plummet from the very sky above our heads. I would choose her. I will always choose her.”
The girl recedes as though physically slapped. “You would really pick her over us? She is a lowborn servant, Draven. And you? You’re the gods-damn Dalmar Heir. She is beneath you. Is beneath us.”
“That ‘lowborn servant’ has overcome more adversity, tragedy, cruelty—fucking degradation—than you could ever begin to imagine. Do not stand in front of me and speak as though you understand the strength of a mountain when your weakened spine bends as easily as a blade of trampled grass. That girl? My girl, to be clear. Despite everything she faced, she did not break. On even the hardest of fucking days, she did not let this world win.” Draven scans the girl—whose eyes now brim with a mixture of hurt and confusion—with a sneer on his lips.
“This aggregate is founded on the entirely wrong principles of what true strength is, and I am tired of indulging in its barbarism as if I buy into its fucked up ideology.”
Rhea’s brows fly up at the intensity of his words—she has never heard Draven speak about anyone like this.
He told Rhea about this girl, Lyra, through their weekly letters.
But he never went into too much detail, in fear of their correspondence somehow ever being confiscated.
It was overly cautious, of course, because letters written with an Ever-Know Quill fade away within minutes, only being held to the page for as long as the wielder’s lakt? can support the ink transfer, but even with those short notes he sent about Lyra, despite always coming across absolutely smitten, Rhea never expected to see him like this.
At a level that could rival that of his devotion to her—which is saying a lot.
Her lips tug up with a smile at the thought; Draven happy, finally offering his delicate heart to someone. Lyra has no idea how lucky she is to receive it. How much it actually means that he’s chosen to give it away.
Draven turns, clearly done with the conversation. Yet the girl reaches out for him again, still not finished, and Draven whirls around once she again presses her skin to his, a snarl on his lips. Rhea practically gulps when she sees black flicker in his eyes.
Oh, shit. Not good. Not. Good.
Without really thinking it through, Rhea leaves the corner behind and strides straight toward them. “Well, the tension in this corridor is certainly sharp enough to cut through steel.”
Draven glances at her, stiffening. Until he exhales a quiet sigh, and his black veins slowly recede. He arches a brow at her, a question in his now beautifully normal gaze.
“And who are you?” The girl rakes her eyes down Rhea, a sneer pulling at her lips.
“Someone you don’t want to fuck with.” Rhea flashes her a tight-lipped grin before jerking her chin. “Now go, before Captain Dalmar here does something he regrets.” She shoots him a very sharp look, silently letting him know she already saw the black in his eyes and veins.
The corner of his mouth quirks in a microcurve at Rhea’s reprimanding. Yet when he turns his attention away from her, his face hardens, and even the smallest sign of warmth slips from his expression. He folds his arms. “You are dismissed,” he says to the girl.
“But—”
“Dismissed,” he growls. “That’s an order from your Captain, Kamina.”
Kamina. So that’s the girl’s name.
Kamina glowers at him in disbelief before turning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction, muttering a string of curses too low for Rhea to fully hear.
She stops just before disappearing behind a corner, turning her chin over her shoulder to glare at Draven.
“You’re going to regret everything you’ve said today.
And when that time comes, I hope you feel like the fool you are for choosing the wrong side. ”
Draven’s stony face and cold gaze offer her nothing in reply. Kamina tears her rage-lined eyes away from the sight of it.
Once she disappears, Rhea lets out a low whistle. “She’s a hot-blooded one.”
Draven blows out a long breath before turning to face her. “Can you not put a target on your back?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Rhea coos in her sweetest voice, fluttering her eyelashes.
He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, draping his huge arm over her shoulder while a smirk tips his lips. When Rhea inevitably bends forward from the annoyingly heavy weight, he pushes a knuckle into the top of her head, resulting in her tsking at him and shoving him off her.
“Cut it out,” she demands, straightening both herself and her clothes. “I’m not a child anymore.”
He cocks his head at that and takes those annoyingly big arms of his and folds them over his equally as annoying big chest. “Says the one pouting like one,” he quips, amusement filling his eyes. “Your first training session was with Finlay today. Did you play nice?”
“Fuck no I didn’t play nice. I hate him, Draven. You know that.”
“Rhea,” he admonishes.
She and Draven have had this conversation many times, and she has no interest in rehashing the ugly mess of it right now. Just because he was able to forgive Finlay for what he did doesn’t mean she has any intentions to do so as well.
Seeming to sense her resolve, he drops his arms back down to his sides and sighs. “Are you at least going to explain to me what you’re doing in Elefet’s wing?”
“What? I need a reason to visit my dear, doting big brother?”
He huffs, clearly not convinced. He pins her beneath that spine-chilling gaze of his; the one which makes her feel as though he can see down to the very marrow of her bones.
“Fine,” she concedes through a sigh. “I need your help with something.”
His brows twitch, a small indent forming between them. “What is it? Has Tynan done something? Is he holding anything over your head?”
Well, technically yes.
But Rhea can’t let Draven know that.
“No,” she answers instead, guilt clotting inside her veins as she is forced to lie to him.
Yet Tynan’s instructions were clear: if he is to uphold his end of their agreement, Draven is to not know anything about their bargain.
And though Tynan is many things and has plenty of questionable qualities, not upholding his end of a deal has never been one of them.
Unfortunately, he is also far too clever to lie to—with eyes and ears in every crevice of every place—and Rhea doesn’t want to risk losing out on this opportunity by letting something slip free.
She just needs to locate this forgotten tome and scribe the information inside by the Winter Solstice’s ball without Draven finding out.
Easy. Plus, after some asking around, she has a pretty good idea of where to find the ancient book.
“I want to enter the library.”
Draven cocks a brow. “So enter the library.”
“No. I want to enter the library.”
His gaze sharpens at that. “Why?”
“Because I heard it has invaluable books on both nullifying magic and my style of combat. I want to grow stronger. Become unbeatable. You already know my aspirations.”
It echoes through her like a pledge. I want to kill Tynan Dalmar with my own two hands.
Draven eyes her. “You’re forbidden from entering.”
“I know.” She sways and bounces on her toes. “But you’re not. I just need you to get me past the Overseer. I can nullify whatever magic blocks me from there on.” At his hesitation, Rhea pulls out her sweetest expression and softest voice. “Please.”
Draven glides a hand down his face, sighing. “If you get caught, I know nothing.” He levels her with a stern gaze. “And I can’t help you if there’s a hearing with Bathara’s Council—they’re not exactly fans of mine.”
Rhea’s lopsided smirk is helpless. “You mean the people in positions of power don’t like the super strong magic wielder who doesn’t listen to anyone or anything?” She places a hand lightly to her chest. “I am shocked.”
He rolls his eyes but chuckles. “Come on. I was just about to head toward Castaria’s wing anyways, so I’ll drop you off on the way.”
Rhea follows. As they walk the corridor, down the stairs and through the courtyard, a sharp, unmovable resolve piles in her stomach.
She will find this book before the Winter Solstice.
She will provide the person who has loved and cared for her almost half his life with the basic right to make his own decisions—to be the force of nature he is in all its glory.
To love the woman he has fallen for without restrictions.
And the first step to that begins now.