“Who knows?” She stood and took his hand as he helped her out of the bath. “The celvusa was a myth before last night, but that creature…” Brela swallowed, her limbs unable to move with the conflicting feelings running through her chest. “I’m supposed to love Ryia; to honor the wall and her protection… but if those celvusa were real this whole time…”
Anfroy wouldn’t have stood a chance. Their armies would have been ripped to shreds by just one of those creatures. The shadow-kind would still exist and Valisea would be safe.
Brela grunted. “After I tell Ryia that she’s a bitch, I’ll command one of those celvusa to rip her face off.”
Elias leaned forward and kissed the scar on her neck—the one courtesy of the celvusa. “Our Night Terror is back.”
She grinned, but it was only to hide the momentary hesitation as her previous words hit again. If the Veil wall was breaking, could more than just a celvusa escape?
What was waiting for them on the other side of the wall? What else could that shadow hell release?
* * *
Noneof the soldiers made eye contact with Cason the next morning. No one taunted him, questioned him, or even dared breathe in his direction. He could still see them dart looks his way before glancing at the other men, as if daring someone to be the first to question the captain about his night with the beautiful Averlyn woman. Cason just maintained his normal steadiness. Maeve would be happy to know he didn’t break; happier to know that their display in the tavern had shut them all up.
That meant the ride back to Dredon was quiet… well, as quiet as it could be with Merik groaning every few seconds from his cracked ribs.
If Rynn hadn’t ordered them to leave at first light, Cason would have tried to find the woman from the orphanage to tell her that Merik had gotten what was coming for him. And that he was sporting a decent bruise on his throat from her fist.
That bruise only reminded Cason of the woman he met at the market and his guilt about letting Warley and Ripley get away. There was no doubt the woman had the capabilities to defend herself with the amount of muscle on her body, but all those scars? If four trained men couldn’t handle the two brothers, she didn’t stand a chance—even if she was hiding some gods-blessed magic in her.
Cason had seen villages like Averlyn before. The forgotten villagers who weren’t gods-blessed, the fight to survive underneath the rule of elitist kings and people, resorting to any means necessary to carve a living… but for some reason, this one haunted him.
His senses had been fluctuating the entire day, something he’d never felt before in his life, and that was unsettling. He had been trained from the minute he was old enough to walk, and he’d mastered his perception magic first. What was it about that woman in the market that had made him lose focus so much?
“Cason,” Serill said, snapping his fingers in front of Cason’s face.
He blinked and focused on the prince, the sunlight nearly blinding as it beat down from directly above. Sweat was already beading on his forehead and neck from the humidity, even though they’d barely sat down for their lunch at the Rooke castle.
“Four hells, what did that woman do to you?” Serill snorted, leaning back in his seat.
Cason flashed him a glare. “I already told you nothing happened.” He’d told the prince the truth about the entire trip to Averlyn when he arrived—well, up until the tavern that night. After Serill had groaned that he didn’t need a report but wanted to hear about how hisfriendexperienced the village, Cason had caved and told him about the rest of the night. About Maeve. That story had Serill rolling with laughter.
Serill only choked back another laugh. “I wish I didn’t believe you, but I know you too well. Part of me wishes I had heard Gerrart’s men tell their story before I heard yours so I could think, for just a few minutes, that you had tumbled a gorgeous Averlyn woman.”
Cason narrowed his eyes. Sothat’swhere Serill had gone just before their lunch—trying to get the gossip about the tavern since Cason had been very light on the details he revealed.Verylight, considering he actually dreamed about that woman from the markets touching him in the way Maeve had.
“And the other part of you?” the captain asked.
Serill grinned. “The other part of me wishes I hadn’t told you to wait to flirt with a woman until I was there to see it.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Why in the four hells did you not bed the lady? With the way Gerrart’s men described your interaction, they thought you were going to throw her on the counter and take her right there in front of all of them. Hells, they thoughtshewas going to take you on the tables.”
He looked impressed, annoyed, and just a few seconds away from smacking Cason for not actually taking the woman on that counter.
Cason shifted his seat just out of reach of the prince’s fist. “Even if Xavier hadn’t interrupted, I wouldn’t have taken her to the room.” He gave Serill a pointed look, indicating he did in fact mean room and not the counter or table that was insinuated. “But yes, you should be happy to know I’m still capable of flirting.”
“Clearly,” the prince replied with a smirk, completely unaware of the real reason Cason hadn’t followed through. That blonde woman flashed in his mind again. Serill sighed. “At least you had some enjoyment yesterday. Turns out my father decided to come to Dredon for the auction tomorrow night. We got word yesterday that he’s on his way.”
“What does King Ingram want with the auction?”
Serill just shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s finally decided that he wants to participate in the raids. He said he was going to meet with his old friend Lord Remont who is coming to the auction on King Raff’s behalf.”
Cason knew the King of Anfroy wasn’t going to attend the festival—he hadn’t visited Rooke in years—but the King of Severina hadn’t attended the festival in much longer, letting Serill represent their kingdom instead. The prince was also the only one of his family interested in the Veil artifacts, so his father coming to Rooke was a surprise for him as well.
“Do you really think he’s considering attacking Valisea?” Cason asked.
The prince lowered his voice. “You know how tense things have been lately. Our army has been antsy with the additional training with nowhere to go. Valisea is holding on by a thread and Anfroy and Rooke seem to enjoy dragging out the suffering. And then there’s talk about the Veil wall cracking, and no one knows what might come out from that side.”
A mercy kill, perhaps, to just finish off Valisea and minimize the damage on the wall. Cason felt his gut clench. The shadow-cursed no longer existed, no one knew what might be on the other side of the wall, and Serill was right—the attacks on Valisea were dragging out what should have been a killing blow years ago. The rebel groups—whoever was left over from the Veil Worshippers and Orhyrst—were still fighting back, but their numbers wouldn’t be enough to stop an attack from three sides. They would crumble, and then their kingdoms could build their own fortifications in case the Veil wall came crumbling down after Valisea.
