Astra's POV
The discussions continued like I wasn't in the room, while both parties thrashed out the details of re-containment between themselves.
As a magicless person and a lowborn, half of what they said flew over my head, and the other half couldn't interest me. I was made invisible in the room, and yet, I liked that I was. I could care less about the details of how they planned to imprison him. What I cared more about was what was going to happen to me after he was gone.
I had a good idea what that was—death. The sleazy elders would fall over themselves to put a noose around my neck and kicked the plank off my feet. That's if they didn't use a guillotine for me.
I wondered what would happen to Mom and Dad after. What would happen to my younger brother after? I grabbed my head tight, yanking hard at my hair. How did I get myself into this damn mess?
I chewed so hard on my lower lip now, I almost tasted my blood. I was doomed, doomed.
I shut my eyes tight, and I slumped my head against the throne, sighing low so as not to be heard. My mind ran wild then, touching on the variants of death I might experience after all this was over.
I had once heard of female lowborns who were offenders being sexually assaulted by guards before they were killed. I wondered if I would have to endure such a fate too. I shuddered, almost crumbling to a fetal position on the throne.
Somehow, that made a quicker death even more appealing.
The hair on my skin stood erect again. I looked up to see his eyes stray to find me. He looked as though he was attempting a smile at me, but he was inexperienced with it. It looked almost like he was threatening me instead.
I wished I could ask him not to imprison himself and asked him to stay at least until I can get myself and my family across the borders of Nirvada, but I couldn't bring myself to beg him. I wouldn't look helpless before him or anyone. I have learned how grave that can cost.
I never knew prisoners could negotiate and discuss the details of their imprisonment and the structure and size of their prison until I met him. Well, I haven't also found any that loved imprisonment either.
The conversations continued between them, and at some point, the chief elder had Drayven gradually leave his seat and then follow him slowly out of the room, both of them engrossed in details that must have been very important that a man—sorry, Dragon—who claimed he doesn't want me more than five meters away from him could walk away from me without looking back.
As soon as he left the room with the chief elder, the others turned on me instantly. It had all been a plan. The sleazy elders had deliberately separated Drayven and me.
The one who has offered me his seat looked sharply at me with eyes cold. I would crystallize into glaciers if they went even a shade colder. "Are you the Dragon's mate?" He demanded.
I swallowed, but I refused to be intimidated. I held the stares that sought to strip me bare. "You heard him. I am not," I said, chasing back to my subconscious the memory of how blatantly he had rejected me earlier. "I thought he made that quite clear."
Another Elder jammed his boot to the throne before him, snapping my gaze in his direction. "If you aren't his mate or his guide, then why were you able to release him when no one had been able to do that for centuries? Why does he treat you as important?"
"Obviously, you don't expect me to know what is going on in the kind of centuries-old dragon." I answered.
"But how did you release him?" The elder demanded again.
I cleared my throat with a gentle cough, and I narrated to them the details until I mistakenly released him.
Their eyes went wide on their old faces, wrinkles tightening as thick as veins surround their eyes. "She really is his guide." One of them almost shouted.
"Yeah, that explains why a magicless lowborn like her was able to release him," another supported, twirling a lock of his white beard.
There was a derogatory inflection in his voice when he said lowborn. But as a lowborn, insults were something I was used to. I ignored it.
Their words made my mind wander. If truly no one could release Drayven all these years, how was I able to achieve such an impossible feat with just a pull of a lever?
The Elder who gave me his seat looked to the others. "If she is his guide. Then there is every possibility she can be his mate too."
The one with a white beard pinched it again, rowing his head to the sides thoughtfully. "I think so too. The last mate of the Destroyer of Worlds also doubled as his guide. But she was…" He cast a low, demeaning look my way. "... stronger, not even remotely as worthless as a lowborn like this. She was the greatest mage of her time, someone able to control Drayven as she was able to seize his heart."
The comparison should mean nothing to me. I wasn't Drayven's mate, nor did I know enough about his previous mate to care, but yet, the comparison made me feel a bit hurt.
"She could also be his mate—"
"I am not," I interrupted rudely.
That earned me six pointed stares and disgusted expressions. And as if I wasn't important, they moved on.
"We have to confirm if she is or not." One said.
"Perhaps, we should."
"Drayven is going to be pissed when he hears about it."
"We should. How else can we get what we want if we can't prove that?"
"Are you sure?"
The conversations continued around me, all of them discussing me like I was livestock.
"We will need to take your blood." The elder with the white beard said as they all turned to me after agreeing to confirm if I was his mate or not.
One of them produced a syringe in his hand with magic, and he moved closer to me.
I shot up to my feet, moving away from the whole group. "I am sorry, but I can't let you take my blood," I said, defiantly.
The Elder, whose seat I had sat in, shook his head with a grim and dark smile. "We weren't asking, lowborn. We are ordering," he said, and he raised his hand up as a signal to the guards around the hall.
"Then I cannot obey—" I was saying, but my words froze cold in my throat when the guard pushed Nathan in—my little brother.