Page 52 of The Time Of Queens

Isucked in a quick breath, knowing already what I would find as I stuck my head further out of the window. The rain continued to lash against my skin, soaking my hair but I didn’t care. Not when there was a single dark figure standing in the middle of the road. I knew that he most likely flew, as there would have been no way for him to catch us up on foot, and I didn’t see any horse.

Had he returned to find me gone and come for me, in some blind panic? Had he somehow discovered the truth?Did he know who I was to him, and that was the only reason he was here now?

I didn’t know. I did, however, know that I had no way to escape him.

“You there, get out of the way!” the driver shouted, and I watched as Draven started to walk down the centre of the road with determined strides.

“I will not, for you have something that belongs to me!” I heard him shout the second he was close enough, making me cover my lips with my hand, gasping into my palm after pullingmyself back inside. However, with the window still open, I could hear the driver’s shock.

“My Lord Draven, I did not know it…”

“Back to the house, at once!” Draven barked out his order, quickly interrupting the coachman.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied quickly.

As for me, I had my eyes glued to the door, flinching as it opened, awarding me the sight of Draven. The second he saw me, he seemed to let out a relieved breath, his intense gaze taking in the length of me, as if assuring himself that I was really here in one piece. Then without saying a word to me, he climbed up inside and took a seat opposite.

“Drive on!” he said, making me jump again when he hammered a fist to the roof of the carriage to let the driver know. Of course, we would have to wait until there was somewhere for the coachman to turn around, as the roads weren’t exactly fit for U-turns.

As for the man himself, he sat there staring at me, his clothing soaked to the skin. The wet sheen on his long jacket made it look as if he had been dipped in black ink. A sight that matched his hair, as he pushed the wet strands back from his face, the drips falling from the ends and landing on his neck. The sight was as tempting as it was unwelcome, and it was nothing but a reminder to how much I craved him, despite my current heartbreak at his doing.

Finally, I mustered up enough anger to tell him,

“I do not wish to return.”

He released a sigh and replied,

“You do not have a choice.”

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my calm enough to say,

“Why, am I under arrest for some unknown crime?”

He jerked back a little and replied.

“Do I look like a peeler to you?”

I frowned in question and couldn’t stop myself from asking, “A what?”

“Law enforcement,” he stated sternly, making me fold my arms across my chest as my anger rose.

“No, you do not. In fact, you very much look like the person they would imprison for breaking the law.”

He scoffed at that.

“They could try, but they would not succeed,” he replied arrogantly, despite knowing he was not boasting when he said this but merely stating facts.

“This is kidnapping,” I told him and at this, he looked straight at me and said,

“No, this is rectifying my mistakes.”

I started to shake my head before informing him firmly,

“It is too late for that.”

“In my experience, it is never too late.”

I shook my head in an exasperated way.

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