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“Talking about it changes nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
“Lilith—”
“I, of all people, deserve the truth. Why keep me in the dark? Is it because I look like her?”
“There is nothing I can say to you that could possibly absolve my part in the war.”
“For you, or for me?” she bit. “You don’t get to decide that for me!”
Draven released a shaky exhale and tore his gaze from hers to watch the crowd behind her.
Damn him. Why can’t he just say it? Lily dug her nails into the cracks of the table, splintering the loose wood she could pry up. Antagonizing him wouldn’t accomplish anything. Not everyone was like Reina, who loved a good argument or a fist fight to get out of something difficult. Xavier always needed validation, and Luka…
Luka took time, and so much damned patience.
She placed her cheek in a palm, gazing at the wall. “A part of me hates Keara too. I didn’t know much about her until I moved to Rimore. Amalia told me she was a noble warrior, a priestess, a mother, a grandmother… I see her as nothing but a cold-blooded murderer. I couldn’t—can’t—imagine ever killing so many innocents. I don’t care how desperate she was, how bad things were, or how much she and Valen hated each other. I won’t ever be like her.” She sighed. “If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine, because I forgive you regardless.”
“I didn’t hate Keara,” Draven said after a long pause.
Lily scoffed, refusing to look at him. Kyer alluded to what really happened, but staying subtle, kind, and impartial was starting to become difficult. “Must’ve a little for you to kill her.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
The admission was so abrupt after one so broken. She turned to him, finding the Serpent swimming mildly behind his irises; his cheeks burned a dark scarlet.
“I couldn’t do it.”
Lily’s pulse hammered in her chest as she dreaded asking and not receiving an answer. “Then tell me what happened.”
Draven’s knuckles strained against the glass so much she was sure it would shatter. He tilted the little that was left into his mouth before that could happen and placed the cup upside down when he was finished. An empty smile joined the flush on his face.
“When I was given to Valen, it became obvious very quickly that I was bred for one purpose: to take Flares born of Dabria. To use their energy to help him conquer Eizreth under his vision for immortality.” He shivered. “I lived and breathed that role from the very first days I entered the palace. Deity or not, they, and their spawn, were toxic. A plague on Eizreth, all led by the one who disrespected the gift of life the most. That’s what I was told, and that’s what I grew to try and believe.” He pressed a finger to the table. “I want you to understand I killed Leona and Ragnar. Ashin men and women. I hurt their people. Their families. Their cultures. I cannot claim Keara’s life, but I might as well have taken it.”
Leona Asura was the Imordial for the Serpent and Ragnar Argent the Imordial for the Gnaw at the time of the Reapers’ War. Him admitting to killing them sent a nervous prickle up her spine. It was a reminder Draven wasn’t an ordinary man. He was someone she should be very wary of.
“After I took the Serpent, I lost myself. Whatever pieces Valen allowed me to have were gone. The only reason I know I killed Ragnar was because Amalia told me I did. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. All the colors were black… until I found Keara. I can’t tell you why it happened, but everything came back. My hands were around her neck. Her face was blue. The air was so rancid, it—it scared me.
“I waited for her to kill me. I got on my knees and begged, but she would not do it. She left me there. The last thing I remember is confronting Valen, and I…”
Died. That’s when he died, by his own brother’s hand.
Draven was watching her now, his posture tense like the silence was putting him on edge. Lily absorbed everything he said before speaking again, peeling apart the shimmer of emotion he was showing behind every word.
“What did Amalia find that was worth the risk waking you?” she asked.
“It was Minerva who found it,” Draven said. “Sealed alongside Jasmine Maina’s last testament was a record written by Keara, dated a few days before Jasmine’s passing… just after the war ended.”
Jasmine Maina. The Imordial for the Allay three hundred years ago. Why would Keara visit her? Lily’s mouth dropped open as her curiosity manifested fully… “A few days?” In this day and age, it took months to travel from the northern mountains to below the cove without a graft. How could Keara have managed it so quickly when they didn’t exist back then?
Draven shook his head. “I read both documents. I don’t feel I’m the one to recount everything to you when you should read them yourself when we return.” He chuckled nervously. “Jasmine spoke of Keara rather fondly, even after learning what she did to the people of Cara. Jasmine ordered both records to be sealed after her death.”
Why seal the record? Perhaps Keara asked her too. Or because the Mainas wanted to be left out of the Reapers’ War entirely. Any association with Keara may have drawn them into Reatia’s focus.
“I let Keara go,” he said. “I swear it. I don’t know how she got to Zaitrerin, how or when she died, or where she was buried…”
Even Lily could see Draven’s nerves unraveling in her continued silence. His anxiety from wanting her acceptance—her forgiveness—made him seem more mortal and less like the ancient monster splattered across forgotten walls.
