Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
LYRA
The following days come and go peacefully. Anticlimactically, even.
I’m not sure what I expected, exactly, being on the run as Solaya’s arguably most-wanted “criminal,” but it certainly wasn’t long days spent bathing in a warm sun and nights spent in Draven’s arms, unbothered and at ease.
Well, save for the night I realized he might actually still be engaged.
That night was a headache. I was tucked into the crook of his side while his sleepy fingers traced my skin, and without warning, I jerked up, accidentally smacking him hard in the nose with the back of my head.
Blood streamed over his lips, and he had to tip his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Now, I am woman enough to admit my next actions were…
petty, at best…but I couldn’t help but be incredibly irritated that he had told me nothing about Arden, about his engagement, and about the current status of it.
“Are you still engaged?” I asked him out of nowhere, my hand on my hip while I wielded my attitude like a blade.
“What?” he replied, his voice nasally and high-pitched from pinching his nose.
“Are. You. Engaged.”
“No,” he answered, somehow managing to scoff a soft laugh. “I refused my father’s wishes just before I left Sagamon Castle the night of the ball to find you.”
“And Arden? Does she know that?”
He shrugged. “I can’t be sure what they did or didn’t tell her. Though I made my feelings on the engagement very clear from the beginning.”
My pettiness knew no bounds that day it would seem, because I lifted my chin and said, “And those were?”
Despite his potentially broken nose, he still managed a smirk. “That my heart and my body will always belong to another.”
I smothered my grin, approaching him with a newfound satisfaction. “Oh? And who is she?” I grabbed a scrap of fabric and removed his hand, blotting the blood away. “Sorry, by the way. It was an accident.”
Draven laughed. “She is someone you don’t want to piss off—she’ll break your nose if you do.”
“Sounds like a real catch,” I chuckled.
His grin turned crooked. “She is.”
I flashed him a knowing smirk right before reaching out with my magic, incredibly grateful for all the training I received from Casimir the moment I was able to identify and pull on healing magic. I fixed his nose with a careful wave of my hand, and his eyes had gone round, then heavy-lidded.
“You truly are full of surprises today.”
We did not leave our bedroll for the rest of that night.
Instead, Draven placed strategic kisses on my lips, down my neck, shoulders, and belly.
Until he reached my thighs, where his kisses turned firmer—more desperate.
Where he then slowly helped guide them apart, only making teasing strokes and touches over my trousers, driving me to a point of near insanity.
But we did not take it past that, despite the nearly inhumane ache I felt to have his bare body against me, thrusting while I clawed at his skin.
We still haven’t taken it past cruel teases.
The walls in our hideout are crumbling and parchment thin, so we decided we would wait for a more suitable place.
One where we won’t have to muffle our sounds, control our impulses, or worry about splinters from torn-up floorboards pricking our skin.
Which…is probably for the best. I never have imagined my first time with Draven being on a bedroll in a dilapidated building while his sister, my best friend, and Finlay Fjolla hover gods-only-know-where.
That night had been nearly two weeks ago, and it is the outlier to the many other repetitive days. Days which quickly became routine. Days I grew to expect.
So imagine my surprise when Gray and Rhea strut into the lowest level of our hideout, arms filled with fine clothes, some jewelry, and perfume, and drop it all onto the chipped table at the center of the room, scattering it about like uncovered treasure.
“What’s this?” I ask, thumbing a piece of dyed fabric.
“Clothes,” Rhea answers, her dry sarcasm mindless.
I lift a pointed brow. “I gathered that.”
Her eyes rove up from the covered table, seeing my look. She shrugs. “You’ll get used to my sarcasm.”
That makes me laugh. It also makes me feel oddly warm.
Rhea and I have talked a little bit more now, getting to know each other at a basic level, but there is still much I have to learn about her and she about me.
Yet I like the idea of getting used to her sharp edges.
I especially like the implication of her words.
As if to say, I am not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere, either.
“This is an assortment of traditional Anatolian festival clothes,” Gray answers, crossing his arms and bumping his shoulder into Rhea in silent reprimanding.
She glances at him sidelong, huffing.
Unlike her and me, Gray and Rhea have spent large amounts of time together since arriving in Anatheima.
They get along well—though, it’s hard not to get along with Gray.
They train together during the day, and they have picked up the habit of playing cards in the evening, after Draven and I have gone off to sleep.
From my peripheral, I glimpse Draven and Finlay coming down the narrow staircase. They are chattering about something, but cease the conversation once they reach us.
Draven sweeps his eyes across the table. “What’s all this?”
Finlay gazes at the contents, choosing to stand directly between Draven and Rhea, remaining quiet while his icy features are stoic as ever.
“Festival attire,” I chirp.
“Festival attire?” Draven questions, brows lifting in a curious way. “Is it now?”
My face pinches together, and I turn to study Gray. He is trying too hard to look casual, made evident by the way he won’t meet my eyes, scanning the room with a forced leisure.
“What’s going on?” I drawl slowly, my gaze bouncing between the two men.
Gray’s sweeping smile is filled with excitement while Draven’s is helpless and tilted. Yet before either of them can answer, a noise rustles from outside, near the front entrance.
The air in the room immediately changes.
“Everyone stay inside,” Gray instructs, his voice dropping low. “I’ll cast an illusion and go—”
Before he can finish his sentence, a cloaked figure appears from around a shadowy corner, pressing something cold to my throat while jerking me back against them. They don’t feel much taller than me, but from the stern way they handle me, I realize the person behind me is strong.
Dread piles in my veins. Is this one of the Shadows? Has the Tani already found me?
Rhea’s daggers are out within a second, and Gray, after reaching for a sword he quickly realizes is not there, unfurls his fingers from his palms and stretches his hands out in front of him while golden light pools at their center.
Finlay is quick with his ice, trapping the cloaked figure by the feet.
It bites at the person’s ankles, rising up their calves and to their thighs.
To my surprise, Draven hasn’t moved, instead only crossing his arms and tilting his head at the person behind me. He looks…amused?
What the hell?
He holds up a hand to Finlay. “No need for that. You can release her.”
Her? How does he know it’s a woman when she’s cloaked? And why the hell is he telling Finlay to let her go?
I hear more than see the ice as it fractures and splits away, releasing my captor. I feel her adjust behind me, the object—thicker than I once thought—repositioned against my throat.
“Who are you?” Gray demands.
Draven’s mouth is twisted with a half-formed smile as he seems to wait with anticipation.
“Show your face,” Rhea growls next, shifting on her feet as her eyes dart to Draven, her confusion at his lack of urgency scribbled plainly in her features.
“Alright, alright,” a voice I recognize with the utmost familiarity drawls from behind me. “Tough crowd.”
The person releases me, then takes a step backward. I whirl around to watch her drop her hood. I see copper hair twisted back in a braid. Bright cobalt eyes. Freckles and a wickedly sharp smirk.
“Marcella,” I practically squeal as I launch myself at her.
She meets my embrace with an oomph, squeezing me back with a bout of laughter.
I pull back from our hug, my eyes welling at the sight of her.
“What in god’s veins are you doing here?
” I pause, shoving her shoulder. “And what the hell were you holding to my throat?”
She lifts the item up for everyone to see. “It was a cucumber I found outside. I thought it’d be funny.”
My jaw drops, bubbling laughter spilling from my lips. “Only you,” I say, shaking my head.
“Only me,” she agrees through her grin.
“And as to what you’re doing here?” The question comes from Gray, resulting in both Marcella and me swiveling our attention to him.
Someone who doesn’t know Gray as well as I do would probably think him mad right now.
Would probably assume the accusation in his eyes and the thin, hard line of his lips surely mean he is unhappy about Marcella disregarding the request of my letter to not follow us.
To stay at Bathara, safe and without implication.
But I see right through it.
I see the hollowness in his mustered anger.
The way he attempts to paint a mask over his face to tell a story which isn’t true.
I see the softness surrounding the hard line of his lips.
The glimmer of joy and relief behind the mirage of irritation in his eyes.
I see the way his hands are twitching at his sides, as if they already want to reach for her.
The way he is leaning forward, as if his body can’t help but gravitate in her direction.
No, he is not mad in the slightest. Though he clearly would like her to believe he is.
“I came because I wanted to.” She reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through mine. Her tone leaves no room for argument.
There is a passing silence in the room as everyone seems to process. Until Rhea frowns and asks, “How the hell did you find us?”
“Not to mention how she snuck into our current residence without anyone noticing,” Finlay adds, folding his arms, eyes still locked on Marcella.
“To be clear,” Draven says, “I knew she was coming hours ago, when I first sensed her magic.”
“And you didn’t think to say anything to anyone?” Rhea mutters.
He shrugs. “I wanted it to be a surprise for Lyra.”
A surprise it is, indeed.
Marcella points at the ceiling, her smile wide and proud. “And I snuck in through the broken window upstairs. I wanted to make a memorable entrance.”
“Right,” Rhea drawls slowly. “But how the hell did you find us? If I’m not mistaken, everyone here agreed not to tell anyone our precise location, outside the exception of telling you and Kiran we were in the Anatolé Kingdom.
So how is it you managed to discover our hideout—in Solaya’s largest kingdom, no less—in only a couple weeks with nothing to go off of? ”
“I tracked you the old fashion way.”
“Tracked us?” Rhea’s jaw nearly comes unhinged. “This far?”
Draven and Finlay exchange wary glances, and I press my lips together to stifle my growing laughter while Gray shakes his head.
“I wouldn’t question her tracking abilities,” he advises Rhea. “If she says that’s how she did it, then believe her.”
Rhea lifts a pointed brow. “But you realize how hard that is to believe, right?”
Marcella waggles her eyebrows. “Not if you knew me better.” Her eyes snag on the table, then, and she walks over to inspect the clothing. Her excitement suddenly doubles. “Oh! You guys have festival clothing. Does that mean you’re going—”
In a flash, a shadow panther appears right in front of her face, its glowing violet eyes making the words die in her throat. “Do not finish that sentence,” Draven says. “We haven’t told her yet.”
Curiosity pouts my lip. “Told me what?”
Draven traces his jaw, sighing. “Nightenjoy? I promised you could be the one to do it.”
My eyes whip to Gray, anticipation fueling my rapid heartbeats. “Gray?”
His smile is soft as he picks up a cream two-piece clothing set from the table and brings it to me. “Given everything that’s happened since the winter solstice, I don’t expect you to have fully realized we’re just over two months since its passing.”
Gods…has it really already been that long? With everything previously on my mind, now paired with the slow-moving days, I truly wasn’t the least bit aware.
“Okay,” I drawl, still unsure where this is going. “And that matters because…?”
Gray hands the clothes to me, a peculiar, knowing glint resting in his gaze. “Because we are currently on the outskirts of Anatheima—Anatolé’s capital city—just over two months after the winter solstice.”
I glance down at the clothes now in my hand, realization dawning on me. “Oh my gods,” I breathe, an excitement so sharp rippling through me, I’m almost frightened to feel it. “Oh my gods!” I say again.
Draven steps forward, resting a gentle hand on my lower back. “That’s what Gray and Rhea were doing this morning. They went into the market to find appropriate attire so we can all seamlessly blend in with the people of the Golden City.”
I shake my head, suddenly in a fever dream. “How did we even afford all of this?”
Finlay spares only a glance in my direction. “You’re welcome.”
I laugh with disbelief. “You did this for me?”
“It wasn’t just for you,” he replies, his eyes finding Rhea before quickly darting forward, as if realizing they were looking at something they shouldn’t be. His mouth tightens at the corners as he folds his arms over his chest.
And at the observation, I remind myself I don’t pry into other people’s business.
“I almost can’t believe it,” I say instead, scanning the many items strewn about on the table.
Marcella steps up to my side and drapes an arm over my shoulder, smiling. Gray steps forward to my other hip and does the same.
“Believe it,” he says softly, a wide grin sweeping across his lips. “Because it’s happening. Tomorrow, you will finally achieve your lifelong wish. You will attend the Ardoris Comet Festival.”