Thora slices through the ropes that secure the ship to the dock, shoving the side of the boat with her heel. “Get the fuck out of here and let the adults handle this.” She waves to Aura. “Invisible the ship!”
The Princess throws her hands on the hull, and a shimmery mist descends upon theWicked Wyvern.
As the wind catches the sail, Calder hollers at Edmund. “You have yet to confirm the location of the temple!”
“Southern Handle of the Crescent Hold! I will meet you there.”
“That does not help me!”
“Oh, right! We will meet you in Viktoft!”
Calder can barely make out the last of what Edmund said before the wind pulls the ship into the Bay of Souls. He holds Aura close as they watch helplessly while their companions rush along the pier, quickly ripping through the next group of soldiers.
“What if they are harmed?” She cries.
Calder grabs the rudder. “If any warriors can handle a battalion of slack-jawed idiots, it's them.” He steers them away from Kaldrgataness and toward the Crescent Hold.
25
CALDER
October 1st, Year 21, 10th Era
Crescent Hold, Skalor
Fog hangs over the black water of the morning as he silently maneuvers theWicked Wyvernalong the channel between the mountains and the wild northern half of the Crescent Hold.
Calder grinds his teeth as the ground scrapes the bottom of his ship. They may have landed in the early morning, but rural outposts hide the Hold sentries and roaming hunters.
He laments the reality that their fastest route to the south would place them far too close to Nightwall Keep.
Alas, they must brave the wilderness of the Crescent Hold to reach Viktoft.
He shoulders the burlap supply packs stowed on his ship.
“Here,” he grunts as he removes a scrap of fabric he finds in one and ties her lovely copper curls in a wrap away from her gorgeous face. “I trust no one,” he cups her cheek, unnerved by the cold clinging to her soft skin.
“I understand.” She juts her chin forward, although those deep blues reflect a heaviness.
After they conceal his vessel in a thicket along the embankment, they tighten their cloaks and disappear into the untamed backcountry of the Northern Handle.
They trudge in exhausted silence away from the channel and into the dense evergreen forest, having not slept during their overnight voyage.
Whatever curse appears to cast an unending winter over most of Skalor provides a brief snowy respite for the westernmost hold. Still, the air remains unnaturally frigid, frosting their breath, even though the snow has yet to blanket the land.
Once the sun's rays pierce through the canopy, he halts their progress and constructs two tents at the base of a cliff shrouded by evergreen branches. Each knot he ties to secure her canvas to the ground causes his jaw to clench.
A respectable man allows the lady her space.
A respectable man knows not to touch his mentor’s off-limits daughter.
If she were another woman with that fiery gaze and ample curves, he would have had her bare beneath him the night they met.
Damn, all of the gods! Because she is not any other woman.
The Princess is flawed, cheeky, and fixated on the approval of others. At the same time, she remains calm around those she cares for. Is fiercely determined and exudes compassion.
She is the exact woman I want at my side, ruling Kaldrgataness.
