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This was Draven Hazevale, wasn’t it? He never actually admitted it outright. Lily knew there was resentment for his family’s legacy, but that was all she could gather. Was he not given enough for his efforts in the Reapers’ War? Vengeful because he was denied what was promised, whatever that may have been, and now working with the empire’s enemy as revenge? Biding his time and lying in wait to take what was rightfully his and more?

She got to moving when he turned back to glower at her. She followed in silence while drilling a hole into his back with her curious stare.

Except a man like that wouldn’t take orders from those sources or put up with an Evelian’s antics, and he sure as shit wouldn’t ask to shift emotions around. He wouldn’t look ashamed when a servant groveled at his feet and irritated when referred to as nobility or even by name. He wouldn’t cast aside his claim to power, admitting to a vessel he once tried to eliminate entirely that he wasn’t what Eizreth needed.

Before she could convince herself otherwise, she jogged up to meet him, dismissing her godly visions and anxiety about Luka and specters.

Right now, it was only the last of the Evelians with the cast off Hazevale.

“So,” she started with the calmest voice she could muster, “when you say I don’t have to deal with the specters alone… what, um, what does that mean?”

He looked at her sidelong, arching a brow. “I’ll get them under control, and I’m going to ask that you kill them.”

“Ask?”

“I’ll ask nicely, and you’ll do it.”

That’s not warming him up. “You’re that confident you can handle them?”

He crossed his arms along with a slight tuck of his chin. “Should I not be?”

“No, no. I’m sure you’ve practically carried this entire expedition, and that you’ll continue to do so.” There. A compliment. “I’m only worried since one is a handful, but two are—”

“I can handle it.”

She lifted her palms, complacent. “If you say so.”

He was more than capable. His family’s talent for pushing a Flare’s magic beyond its limits, corrupt as it may be, couldn’t be ignored. Talent presented in someone even as young as Luka.

Lily pictured the molten orb in Luka’s hands earlier that morning. She didn’t need to rely on the boy solely for that information. Draven could give it up if he was feeling generous enough to cooperate with the wicked Wraith.

It was worth a shot. Worst case, he’d give a degrading no.

She forced a smile, not giving it to him, more so he could hear it in her voice. “That confidence might be a little dented trusting me to be of any help. I mean, I can’t even solidify auras yet.”

Draven snickered. “I know you can do better than that.”

Lily widened her eyes and lilted her voice as innocently as possible. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“With how clunky that was, you might as well have asked me outright.”

“Would you have answered me?”

“Ask and find out.”

There was a hitch in her chest—brief and quickly squashed. She wasn’t sure why it happened. It could’ve been because he hinted at playing along, or deeper in the recesses of her mind, it was the guttural command to his voice that stilled her. Not out of fear, but something else she immediately ignored.

“Okay then, what does it feel like?” Lily waggled her fingers, imitating smoke rising. “Making auras physical?”

“Why the interest?”

“It might be useful to, you know, keep me alive.” Her mind kept forming words before she thought to keep quiet. Draven had his ways of pinpointing any ulterior motives. Why bother hiding it? “And Luka learned how to do it. I want to know too.”

He watched her for a moment longer before facing forward. “Kyer wouldn’t approve.”

“Kyer will only mind if Amalia finds out, and I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

“That’s not what’s stopping me,” he mumbled.