Chapter 113: The Golden-Haired Warnings
A scream built in her chest, but before it could escape, he was across the room. His hand clamped over her mouth immediately. He turned her around in a swift movement. Her instinct was to fight, to bite, to claw. She tried to wrench her head away to kick out, but his other arm locked around her waist, pulling her towards his solid chest.
"Easy tiger," a voice whispered near her ear. It was calm, almost amused. "I’m not here to hurt you."
Her body stiffened, more from shock than from obedience. Her heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy. The hand left her mouth. He snapped his fingers, and the torch on the wall flared to life, brightening the room.
Suddenly, the pressure was gone. The arms and the body she was leaning on were gone. She staggered forward, whirling around. The room was empty. She was alone. Her breathing was loud and ragged. She scanned every corner, but there was nothing.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "What do you want from me?"
"Pardon my intrusion, Queen Rowena."
The voice came from behind her again. She turned again and saw him standing by the window, his back to her, his hands clasped behind him. He was looking out at the night.
She gasped as he turned to face her. It was the man from the feast—the one with golden hair and green eyes. Up close, he was younger than she had thought, perhaps only a few years older than her.
Anger surged within her, burning away her fear. "Who the hell are you?!" She snapped, taking a step back towards the fireplace where an iron poker rested.
He raised both hands slowly. A gentle surrender. "Easy, my Queen. I mean no harm. And I apologize for using my tricks on you."
"I don’t care about your tricks," she said, her voice steadier now. "Get out of my room before I call the guards."
He didn’t move. His expression was serious, and his eyes were alert, watching her closely. "You shouldn’t be so quick to throw me out. I am here to talk. That’s all." He replied.
"You break into my chamber in the middle of the night to talk?"
He smirked. "I didn’t exactly break in. I appeared. I am—" He paused when he noticed her mouth almost opened.
"I did." He admitted. "And I am truly sorry for the method. I had no other choice."
She crossed her arms, still tense. "Start talking."
"My name is Draven," he said. "I came this way because I knew Zareth would never approve of me speaking with you."
She studied him carefully now, forcing herself to stay calm. To think. Calling for guards would only cause chaos. It would show weakness. She kept her position near the fireplace.
Rowena looked at him closely to assess him. He was undeniably handsome. His face was sharp, with a strong jaw and broad shoulders under his dark tunic. His expression is confident. Under different circumstances, she might have reacted very differently. But the thought was irrelevant, and she pushed it away.
"Why wouldn’t Zareth allow you an audience with me?" She asked.
Draven smirked. "Zareth and I have a bad relationship. We disagree on...many things."
That answer only deepened her unease. "What things?"
"The future," Draven said. He took a single step forward, then stopped when she tensed. "He has crowned you Queen. That’s a significant move. I wanted to see the woman who would accept a crown from his hands."
"It was not just from his hands. It was from the people here."
"Was it?" Draven asked. His tone was not mocking, merely questioning. "The people here follow Zareth. They kneel where he points. Do you know what Queen you are, Rowena?"
"Don’t say my name."
"My apologies. Your majesty." He gave a slight, ironic nod of his head. It was not a full bow. "Do you know what this place is? Truly? Do you know where that crown came from and what it has seen?"
Rowena said nothing. She knew very little, and they both knew it.
"Zareth offers you the world," Draven continued. His voice was low, meant only for her in the quiet room. "He is powerful. He can give you things you have never dreamed of. I do not doubt that. But you seem hardheaded. So be sensible. When someone offers you everything, it is wise to ask what the price will be. And when the price will come due."
"He wants unity. Loyalty. That is the price."
"Is it?" Draven asked again. He looked at her for a long moment. "Unity is a word that can mean many things. So is loyalty. I came here only to say this: remember, you have a choice. Even now. Even with the crown on your head. You can choose to be his Queen. But know what it means before you commit your life to it."
"And you would tell me? The man who sneaks into rooms and uses tricks?"
"I would tell you the truth as I see it. Not as Zareth paints it." He took another step, very slowly, toward the door. "I have said what I came to say. I will go. If you want to know more, you can find me. If you do not, then we will not speak again. But do not tell Zareth I was here. It would not go well for me. Or I suspect for the progress of your new reign."
He was at the door now. His hand went to the heavy latch.
"Wait," Rowena said. The word was out before she could stop it.
He paused, looking back at her.
"Why do you care? Why risk coming here to warn me? What is it to you?" She asked. Her voice was stern.
Draven met her gaze. "I have seen what Zareth’s unity looks like. It is not a pretty sight. And the world does not need more of it." He lifted the latch. The door opened silently. "Goodnight, your majesty. Sleep well."
Draven slipped out, closing the door behind him without a sound.
Rowena stood still, the room empty again. The only proof he had been there was the unsettled feeling in her stomach and his words circling in her head.
She walked back to the bed. She sat on the edge of it. She listened to the silence, straining for any sound in the corridor outside. There was nothing.
After a long time, she lay down. She stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. She remembered Zareth’s promise of the world. She thought of Draven’s warning.
Rowena fell asleep not long after.
