Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)
Seeds of Sorrow: Chapter 28

Draven stared down at the wrist in his hold, the man standing at his side whimpering in a fearful manner. The fingers of the hand trembled lightly, a shiver of fear that moved up the arm to the body it was attached to.

“Is something displeasing to you about this one, Your Grace?” Seurat asked from where he stood across the room, arms folded behind his back.

“No,” Draven replied, and brought the wrist up to his mouth, biting into the flesh. The human gasped in pain as his fangs tore through his skin. The trembling lasted until the venom from his bite spread, then he was silenced.

The last drops of blood to pass his lips had been Eden’s, and a part of Draven didn’t want to chase it with the essence of a Midnivian criminal. Yet, food was necessary. Draven took what he needed, feasting on the warm, heady liquid, then pulled away from the wrist and released it from his hold. Wiping at his lips, he motioned to Seurat, who came forward to take the mortal and pass him off to the harpy waiting outside in the hall.

Leaning back in his chair, Draven folded his hands in his lap and shut his eyes, taking a moment to let the fresh blood sweep through his system. He caught flashes of the mortal’s last few days trapped down in the dungeons with the others, flickers of his journey in the prison carts through the Veil from Midniva, and a quick burst of the life he had lived before his crimes had been discovered.

But Draven wanted none of that. He wanted only the memories from the night before. The taste of Eden on his tongue. The feel of her around him. The hungry press of her lips to his as he wrung pleasured cries from her throat.

He shouldn’t have given in, because he was aware that at the end of the six months, she had to return to Lucem. And already he was questioning what it would be like should she stay.

“Your Majesty, I wondered if I might have a word?”

Draven opened his eyes to find Lord Esruiit standing in the doorway. Straightening in his chair, he beckoned the man forward.

“Enter.”

“While I have never been one to question your decisions, you have made a grave error in judgment, Your Majesty,” the vampire wasted no time in saying. He was a portly man, who had chosen to come to Andhera with his family because he felt it was his duty to help bring a civilized culture to it.

Draven’s brow lifted in disgruntled offense. “Excuse me?”

“Lord Capala was not guilty of going against you and creating a hive in Midniva.”

Draven steepled his fingers over his chest, eyeing the other man. “He was accused by a woman about to be executed. She had no reason to lie.”

“But she did,” Lord Esuriit insisted.

“Esuriit, Forstuss only supported it. Capala and his son were guilty.”

Esuriit shook his head and stepped farther into the room, beginning to pace a little. “They hated being restrained, that I will admit, but Capala was always loyal to you as a ruler.” He looked to Draven. “He would not have done this. Did you feed from him? To be certain?”

“Aamanee led me to him without any pressure on my part. This was not simply me looking to be rid of opposers. Their actions were bringing scrutiny from Midniva upon my kingdom. That will not be tolerated.”

“And death was your only solution? You could have sent him through Sollicitus. Allowed him to face the torments in that cave and come out a free man. Execution was not your only recourse.”

“You know the law. Death of a mortal means a punishment of death for the killer.”

“But what of you, My Lord? What will be your punishment when the truth comes out?”

Draven merely stared back at the nobleman, a muscle ticking violently in his jaw.

“There are mutters. Dissatisfaction. If you cannot be trusted to find the truth before you act, how can they trust it won’t be them next?”

Draven stood up quickly, slamming his hands down on the desk before him. “Enough! I followed the information, and it led me back to Capala. We’re not having this conversation any further.”

Esuriit shook his head. “Very well, Your Majesty. Heed my warning or not, it has been delivered.” The vampire bowed and backed out of the room.

Feeling the weight of the last few days, Draven leaned on the desk with both hands, his head bowed.

“And here I thought I had some battles to fight at home.”

Draven groaned as he heard his brother’s voice. “Zryan. Why are you here?” Lifting his head, he looked across the room to see his brother leaning against the doorframe.

“Is that any way to greet your little brother?”

“Yes.” Zryan very rarely stepped foot in Andhera, and when he did, even less often was it a good sign.

Zryan rolled his eyes. Pushing off from the door, he strolled into the office and dropped down into one of the chairs opposite the desk. “Your words are like an arrow to my heart.” He placed a hand over his chest, then lifted his legs up to rest his feet on the edge of the desk, crossed at the ankles. The fabric of his light green tunic slid up his bare thighs to expose the curvature of his ass, which Draven didn’t appreciate.

Sighing, Draven dropped back down into his own chair. “I repeat, why are you here?”

“Can I get some food? I know you don’t eat . . . but you feed the young lady, right?” Zryan gave a shout, and a revenant appeared before him. “I’d love something to eat, and a nice cold glass of pomegranate wine.”

Draven simply sat, glowering at his brother as he placed his demands with the revenant, who disappeared shortly afterward. Of course Zryan would arrive and make himself at home without thought.

“How long does it usually take? I know they’re not used to getting orders for more than blood, but—what?” Zryan finally halted, staring over at him.

“Why. Are. You. Here?” Draven’s voice was firm and cold.

“Naya told Alessia of my latest pretty treat. I had to hide her in Midniva before my wife decided to viciously maul her mind and/or kill her. I figured it would be best if I came this way for a little while and gave Lessie some time to cool down.”

Draven stared at his brother. “I don’t have time for you.”

“Excuse me?” Zryan’s brows shot up.

“I don’t have time for you or any of your nonsense. You heard Lord Esuriit, I have furious nobles due to the execution of another, I have vampires and lamia in Midnivia—”

“I’ve heard. I really thought you and Travion were better at doing your jobs,” Zryan cut him off.

Quickly, Draven reached out and swatted Zryan’s feet off the desk, upending him in his chair and sending him tumbling onto the floor. Just at that moment, the revenant reappeared with a tray of food for Zryan. Startled, the girl looked from the king sprawled on the floor to her own sovereign seated unfazed in his chair.

“Is everything all right, sire?” she asked uncertainly.

“Everything is just fine,” Draven replied calmly, crossing his hands back over his abdomen as he watched his youngest brother pick himself up off the floor and shoot him a withering glance as he righted his chair.

“Your king is an ass is what is going on here,” Zryan grumbled.

“Oh, don’t fuss, Zry, your food will get cold.”

Once the food was spread out on the desk and Zryan had settled himself once again, the brothers resumed staring across the desk at each other.

“I would have thought that sending that untouched ball of sunshine your way would have shed a little light on your mood. Apparently not.”

“Leave Eden out of this.”

“Oh, the defensive tone in your voice.” Zryan fairly cooed the words.

Draven said nothing. Zryan only smiled more.

“Or maybe things have gotten better with you because of the sexy little nymph. Has the dark king personally welcomed Naya’s daughter into womanhood?” There was glee shining in Zryan’s eyes.

Draven growled, his lids lowering over his eyes dangerously. “Do not speak of her in such a manner.” His brother may treat the females of his kingdom like an endless stream of playthings for his own amusement, but Draven would not have him lumping Eden into that mix.

Zryan leaned forward, elbows on his knees and a broad grin spreading over his lips. “Ohhhh, you have found your pleasure with the maiden.”

“Get out.”

Zryan laughed, waving him off. “Calm down, brother. I’m merely happy to see that you’ve finally allowed yourself to find some pleasure. I could see it in your eyes that night, that you wanted her. It’s why I knew you wouldn’t fight me too hard on bringing her back here with you.”

Draven could only glare at him. What Zryan was saying couldn’t be true. Surely he hadn’t given in to Zryan and pulled Eden from her life because deep down he’d wanted her. His brows pinched with a frown as he thought it over.

“Seriously, Draven. You’re the only creature I know who admits he’s enjoyed a female’s body and still ends up frowning over it.”

“I’m not frowning over it.”

“You are . . . Does this mean you’ll be pleased when she goes home? Was she too innocent for your taste?”

Draven shot him another perturbed look. How he managed to spew insensitive sentiments every other breath was both remarkable and infuriating. “It doesn’t matter whether I want her to go home or not; she must. It isn’t safe for her here. It never was.”

“Whether or not?” Zryan’s eyebrows shot up, then his face became more serious, and Draven found himself being studied by his brother.

Draven never did like when his brother actually took the time to look into the reality of a situation. He had a tendency of reading a person correctly when he bothered to try.

“Draven, do you care about her?”

“I meant what I said, Zryan. Eden cannot stay here. Her life will be altered if she does. She will become either a vampire or something else. We have no right to take her life from her. She has already spent most of her life controlled by her mother. She does not need the two of us telling her what she must do with the rest of it.” Draven shook his head and glared down at the desk.

The truth was, if he had the choice . . . No, he would not send Eden home. Her presence here was more than just a fresh breeze in stale halls. She was a spot of life in the constant shadow of death.

 “Fascinating.” Zryan picked up a piece of bread, dipping it in oil before he took a bite. He chewed slowly as he contemplated something.

This time, it was Draven who studied Zryan. His brother appeared calm on the outside, but there was something about the subtle shift of his body that indicated otherwise.

“Why are you really here, Zryan?”

He gave Draven a laugh, waving a hand to brush him off, but the truth rested in his eyes.

“Zryan?” he growled.

“The Creaturae is missing.”

Draven stilled, a chill coursing down his spine. “What?” he asked carefully.

“Ruan found the griffins guarding its tomb dead. No easy task, mind you. When he went in, the book was gone.”

Draven cursed. Pushing his chair back abruptly, he stood. “How could you be so foolish to lose The Creaturae?”

“Foolish? I’ve kept it protected for how many millennia?!”

Draven forced his fingers angrily through his hair as he paced out from behind his desk. “So you came to bring me word of this, but what do you expect me to do? I cannot look for it. I’m unable to even step foot into Lucem.”

“I thought you should know. You and Travion both, in case it has something to do with what is taking place in Midniva and Andhera now.”

Turning, Draven swept the items on his desk onto the floor.

There was more in the works than any of them were aware of. They were all being played as fools by someone who remained several steps ahead of them. The mayhem, the disorder, the death; it couldn’t be all pure coincidence. But where was the common link they were missing?

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