The way Draevyn tore himself free of his brother’s grip andran. Gods, he’d run like he never had in his life to reach Esmyra.
Draevyn had betrayed his own blood. If it had been his father, he wouldn’t bat an eye. His loyalty was never to his ruthless sire. But he’d never in his right mind thought he would do that to Atlas. Every ounce of trust built between him and his brother was now gone, but only because it was her. Because watching Esmyra fall would’ve destroyed what was left of him.
How could something feel so wrong yetentirely right at the same time? He didn’t feel regret; he only wished a better outcome was possible in the moment.
And now there were several other things that plagued his mind.
Did Esmyra make it out of Lephyrin? Was she even alive? Certainly, if the king’s guard had captured her, he would’ve been made aware. However the look in Atlas’s eyes when they last spoke made him realize that also may not be the case.
He could still see the blood pouring from her body, staining her skin as she staggered from him, could still feel the slick warmth of the wetness coating his hands as he brought her to safety.
But had he done enough? Had he bought her enough time?
His stomach twisted. Maybe nothing he did would ever be enough. Not after everything she thought he did.
Atlas had been furious when announcing the death to the kingdom. Draevyn recalled how Elowynne clung to his side, whispering in his ear things Draevyn couldn’t hear. How the lords and courtiers stayed quiet, letting the weight of what happened settle like a noose tightening around every throat in the room.
And through it all, his brother looked at him as if the blood staining Draevyn’s hands that day belonged to their father, and not the woman he was desperate to save.
While everyone loathed the king, had even spoken of better times to come when his soul left their realm, Draevyn was still duty-bound to protect him. And he hadn’t.
The memory burned hotter than the whiskey sliding down his throat now. He worked to take another gulp, but it tasted like ash on his tongue. With a growl, he stood and hurled the glass into the fire. The flames roared as the liquor caught, a violent burst of light swallowing the shattered glass.
“Godsdammit,” he rasped under his breath, sliding a hand down his face.
None of it mattered. The king was dead, his brother hated him, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Or Syrena. None of this would’ve happened without that bitch pulling the strings.
A sharp knock at the door echoed through the chamber, and he stiffened, staring at the fire as the flames continued to dance.
When he said nothing, another more aggressive knock sounded.
“Come in,” he ground out.
The door creaked open, and when he turned, Draevyn found himself stunned silent. Elowynne stood in his doorway, her dark hair braided down to her waist as her green and gold eyes were locked on him from across the room.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “I thought you might be here.”
Because of course my own fucking chambers was a hard guess.
He didn’t respond aloud. Just watched her through narrowed eyes.
“Listen, I think you and I got off to a bad start.” She sighed, hands folding in front of her.
Draevyn raised a brow. “A bad start?”
Elowynne took a hesitant step forward. “We scraped you off that beach, and things haven’t exactly gone according to plan since. I’ve come here to make amends. For both Atlas and myself.”
Irritation roiled through him as his head reared back. “You speak for my brother now?”
“Draevyn, I didn’t come to fight you. Or… justify what happened.” Her gaze drifted to the fire as she placed her hands on her hips. “But you need to understand why we did what we did.”
Heat coursed through him as the fire surged brighter in the hearth. “Atlas shot her. Multiple times as you cursed her mind.Ibeggedyou both to stop.”
“Because she would’ve killed us all.” Her voice was stern, laced with challenge. “She was moments away from giving Atlas the same fate she gave your father!”
Elowynne had a gracefulness to her, but there was something else he couldn’t quite place. A sharpened edge he’d only ever seen before in a certain siren that haunted his every thought.
