Chapter 26 The Deed
The Deed
“No man lies cleaner than a Blademan with orders to keep.”
— Lord Draven Wrenavia
Riven pulled the door open, and the room fell silent.
In front of a silver throne stood three men standing on grey and white marble floors, all wielding swords like they’d been training, only pausing at our interruption.
I stepped forward, face falling as I met eyes eerily similar to my own.
There was no doubt in my mind, from the curly black hair to the dark-brown eyes staring back at me. He was unquestionably my twin.
I also recognized the other two men immediately, but from my dreams. Xavian and the redhead wore black leathers, while the one with long, dark hair wore a fancy purple tunic with silver embellishments. In my dreams, their names were Avan and Draven.
A stale silence fell between the five of us as Xavian and I stared at one another. After everything, I had made it to Castivian. I was here and could deliver the deed. I had a twin, and he was right in front of me, and—
“In one piece?” my twin asked, astonished and sheathing his sword. I blinked. He was not like Clarke at all. No bags under his eyes. No soft voice or weakened body. He was built like a warrior, as were his men.
I didn't know what to say.
Riven’s lips remained in a flat line.
“Are you Xavian Steele?” I asked, words coming out quieter than I would have preferred. I knew, but needed confirmation.
“Does my reputation precede me?” He stepped forward, eyes flashing with pain as he took in the sight of me, exhausted and half his size.
I had imagined this moment, as he likely had too. It was nothing I could have prepared for. Both of our faces shifted with confusion.
“I have a letter from the king,” I said, straightening my posture and rolling up my sleeve to display the glittering gold mark on my forearm.
“I’m aware of the letter, and we will have much to discuss later. You can hand it to Avan or Draven.” He gestured to the men behind him.
So those were their names. Did the Warlock leave some bizarre magic in me?
I pulled my bag off, walking towards Avan. He seemed more approachable than Draven.
Xavian's thundering voice halted Riven's attempt to follow.
“You don’t move,” Xavian warned him. I was already beside Avan, just beginning to open my bag, but paused at Xavian’s order. Riven was my friend, and he needed to know that. I opened my mouth, but a hand was placed on my shoulder.
The red haired one, Avan, shook his head—warning me to let them be.
Riven didn’t breathe a word as Xavian stalked across the vaulted room, taking slow, calculated steps.
“Sir Riven, did you swear an oath that you would keep my sister safe?”
The Rogue Draker placed his hands behind his back, lifting his chin fearlessly. “Yes, my lord.”
With immeasurable speed, Xavian sent a dagger soaring across the room, pinning Riven’s shoulder to the door.
He groaned out in pain.
Avan's arm stopped me as I tried to rush forward.
“It’s best you let them fight their own battles,” he said under his breath. Draven looked down at me with cold, hawk-like eyes.
“I will have to agree, and know that is not something I do often with Lord Avan,” he hissed coolly. My eyes narrowed at both of them.
“Does that feel safe, Sir Riven?” Xavian’s voice echoed across the hall.
Riven winced, but didn’t dare take the dagger out.
“I tried my best to—” he began as another dagger flew across the room, this time the hilt thudding him in the forehead. The back of his head knocked into the door.
I gasped.
Draven took an annoyed breath. “Sir Riven will be fine,” he droned.
I wasn’t so convinced. My stomach swirled with poison, my hands tight.
“How does your head feel now? Can you ‘try your best’ to explain it?” Xavian mocked.
The Lord of Castivian walked away, reaching behind the silver throne while blood trickled from Riven’s shoulder and down the side of his body. I couldn’t bear watching him in pain.
An arrow soared into Riven’s thigh, pinning him further into the door. He roared as two arms yanked me back, Avan shushing me.
“You will make it worse,” Avan whispered.
Xavian stood in the center of the room, bow in hand and head cocked to the side. “You know what I think is really safe?”
Riven shook his head, shamefully looking down, refusing to speak.
Another arrow released, pinning the Draker’s opposite thigh to the door.
Then Xavian threw the bow down and stormed across the room to yank the arrow back out.
Riven howled.
“Avan,” Xavian chimed with his back to us.
Avan’s arm still held me tight. “Yes?”
“Am I forgetting something?”
“The vomit!”
Xavian lifted his head. “Ah yes, the vomit.”
His fist slammed into Riven’s stomach twice before its contents covered the floor.
I was steaming. Simmering. Close to boiling.
Xavian yanked out the remaining dagger and arrow. Riven fell to the floor, right into his own emesis and blood.
“You best be at training tomorrow morning, since you’ve forgotten it,” Xavian ordered. “Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
Bleeding and unwilling to meet my eye, Riven stood and limped out of the great hall.
Xavian Steele wiped the bloody dagger off with his shirt before strapping it back. My brother faced me at last, taking in my rage.
“He’s fine.” He picked up the bow and tossed it behind his throne.
Avan finally let go. I dropped my bag, crossing the length of the room with my arms stiff at my side until I was standing in front of my brother, Nature swirling inside of me. He crossed his arms.
How dare he torture the only person who’d helped me. How dare Riven let Xavian Steele torment him without putting up a fight.
“You…” I pointed my finger directly in his face. “You are an ungrateful, spoiled bastard,” I spat, getting louder with each word.
He frowned at the hurt in my eyes, in my soul.
I had crossed an ocean to meet him, and he spent the first moments like this.
I was disgusted, and he knew. The arrogance was gone from his face, and when he looked as if he may try to speak, I narrowed my eyes, letting him know just how small he was to me.
I gave him one last look of disgust before crossing the room, yanking my bag off the ground and shoving the deed in Avan’s freckled hands.
Running down the hallways, I followed the fresh crimson trail, easily catching up to Riven. He walked well for his injuries, and held pressure to his profusely bleeding shoulder.
“Why didn’t you fight back?”
He refused to look at me. “Because I deserved it.”
He deserved gold and land for bringing me here—for delivering the deed. He deserved gratitude and praise, not assault upon arrival.
“For what?” I stabbed, voice sharp as knives.
He turned the corner, picking up his pace. “I vowed an oath to pay for any injury you endure. I meant it. He has given me my honor back, because without feeling your pain, I would have none.”
His honor? He’d already abandoned Drakington. To hell with his honor.
“You’re a Rogue Draker, why would you seek honor here?”
He slowed, stepping through a dark wooden door. The same one from my dream. It was so bizarre, having never been to Castivian in my life.
Inside, medicines filled the shelves and several cots were available. The same two healers were there. After a quick look at Riven, they smiled and directed him to a bed.
“Ah shit, Riven, I didn’t know you’d be back today!” one of them exclaimed. He wore a black uniform as well, but without weapons.
Back? They knew the Draker by name?
Riven hopped onto a cot, staining the white blankets red.
The other healer laughed, grabbing a pair of shears. “Friend, you’ve been gone for a while. I see you stopped to say hello to Xavian.”
Neither of the men acknowledged me as they cut off clothes and tended to his injuries. They knew him.
“I think he missed me,” Riven replied jokingly in a Castivi accent, turning his shoulder in to look at the stab wound.
One healer glanced up at me, blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “Are you hurt too?”
“No.” Not physically.
They went back to pretending I didn’t exist, just like Riven had been pretending to be Drakish this entire time.
No, that was insane. Riven wasn’t a liar.
“How do you know each other? When did you have time to visit Castivian?” The words came out so quickly, I wasn’t sure he’d caught them all.
Both healers' eyes shot up. They turned to Riven awkwardly.
He wouldn't lie to me. He promised I could trust him, and I did—more than anyone.
“You really like to assume things about me, don’t you?” was all Riven could offer, settling into his native accent.
He’d never been a real Draker.
Three years in the Waywards, pretending to be someone he was not, faking his voice, sleeping with my friend, and spying on me.
My fingernails dug into my palms. There were no words for the way I felt. It was such a simple thing he could have confessed at any point on the journey. But to leave me blindsided—to have some ridiculous devotion for Castivian, but not to me…
My reward for crossing the Sea of Blades was nothing but another wound on my heart. No one cared to be honest with me about a single thing in my entire life. At least Luna had told me she wanted to leave. She may have been a selfish coward, but she wasn’t a liar.
I left the room, ignoring Riven as he called my name.
Avan was waiting in the hall, but I stormed right past him, flicking him off as he called out, too.
I didn’t give a shit what any of these men had to say anymore. I was leaving.
I had delivered the stupid deed, doing my part for the Dark Natured. I was free from the Waywards, and free from the curiosity of who my brothers and father might be. I could do whatever I wanted, and that did not include enjoying the company of liars.
Avan wisely did not attempt to follow as I left the House of Sterling. The sea breeze tickled my face and blew my hair. The capital below was beautiful from the plateau, but even more beautiful was the bladebreather soaring above the black rooftops, a sparkling, rosy dust trailing behind.
It was hard to tell from a distance, but I was sure it was the same blonde woman, enjoying being home as her beast flipped its tail happily through the air.
She was truly free.
I strode into the city with resolve. I would never be caged again.