Caelian yanked on the itchy collar of her gown with her free hand, considered tearing the wretched fabric from her skin completely, when Sarelle’s voice fractured the tormenting silence that threatened to send her into a fit of hysterics.
“So,” Sarelle drawled, casting a wayward glance behind them to ensure they weren’t being followed. “Are you still in love with General Holtstrom?”
Damn.
Perhaps Caelian would have preferred the suffocating quiet after all.
CHAPTER TWO
Damn that starlit faerie and her sharp little mouth.
Kjeld forced himself to tear his gaze from the slight sway of Caelian’s backside as she sauntered out the door of the dining hall with her sister. He gritted his teeth, told himself he couldn’t stand to be in the same space as her. That he would never forgive her for ruining his life. That he loathed her very existence. And he did—for the most part. Usually, he found himself wanting to strip her of her immortality, he wanted to watch her weep as she withered and wasted away like any other mortal woman until she was nothing but a husk of skin and bones. Unfortunately, he also liked to imagine her naked and writhing beneath him, most often when he was alone in his bed at night. Yet those kinds of lewd imaginings had been known to betray him during the midday hours as well. How gratifying it would be to release his rage, resentment, and frustration between her sweet, soft thighs.
But even those thoughts became less enjoyable as the days passed, as Kjeld witnessed Caelian become a shell of her former self. Her vibrancy was lackluster and dim, dulled like an unpolished sapphire forgotten by time. The skin beneath her eyes was thin and gray, her once plush, pink lips were nowashen, and though her rather ample bosom remained full and bountiful, she’d lost far too much weight. Without her magic, she’d grown frail. Weak. He heard her broken sobs in the quiet of midnight, he heard her whispered pleas to the stars to return her magic. Always, she went unanswered.
Kjeld was no fool.
He saw the way she attempted to claw out of her gown, how the irritating fabric or some other unseen force was driving her mad with delirium. Caelian fidgeted, shifted, and looked downright ready to crawl out of her own skin, yet no one had taken notice. Not even her twin.
No one paid her any mind…except him.
“You know, you needn’t be such a complete asshole to her all the time.” Drake leaned back in his seat, draping one arm around Creslyn’s shoulders. “Your callousness is tiring.”
“I am not callous.” Kjeld adjusted, and the legs of the wooden chair cracked and groaned beneath his immense stature. It was only a matter of time until the damn thing broke. “I was merely stating an opinion in an effort to start a conversation.”
Because if any of them had even so much as looked at Lady Caelian,reallylooked at her, they would have seen she was desperate for someone to talk. To speak. To engage with her. Instead, they were all too busy treating her like some delicate flower that was going to wilt at any moment.
“Be that as it may, you insulted not only her, but also my wife. My family.” A muscle of wired tension feathered along Drake’s jawline. “Last I checked, you were well aware that I do not take kindly to such slights.”
Kjeld ducked his head just slightly, acknowledging Drake’s status over him. One did not simply tell a god to fuck off. “She stole my chance to enter Valorahan. To live my eternity among the greatest warriors of the Northernlands. She?—”
“She saved your life!” Drake boomed, lurching forward, his voice so explosive it rattled the dishes spread on the table. Tendrils of inky shadows writhed around him, vengeful in nature, violent if necessary. Creslyn did not shy away from him, and neither did Ariesian. “How much longer do you intend to make her repent for her mistake? She expelled her magic on you, she wished tosaveyou, and yet you continue to make her regret it every day.”
“I did not ask for it!” Kjeld shoved up from the table, slamming his fist against its hard surface. How did his closest friend not understand the hollowness lurking in the crevice of his soul? He died a man and awoke a fae. It was not easy to grasp the loss of one’s mortality. “My death would have been noble. Honorable. Worthwhile.”
Ariesian cleared his throat, propped his elbow on the table, then proceeded to crack each of his knuckles. One at a time. He cocked his head to the side, a single lock of silver hair falling across the cold steel of his eyes.
“You know, General Holtstrom,” he drawled casually, “if you wish to die, that can be arranged.”
Kjeld knew a threat when he heard one, but this time it sounded more like a promise. He stole a glance at Creslyn, only to find her grinning in his direction. Her dark sapphire eyes glittered as she slid her finger across her throat, mocking the slitting of his own.
Definitely a promise.
“Would you prefer to return to Brackroth, then?” Drake asked, his shadows withdrawing as the air thickened with the warmth of spring. “Perhaps you would care to find something more hazardous, more treacherous, since it is your apparent death you miss most of all.”
Kjeld considered the offer, wondered what it might be like to return to his homeland. When he left Brackroth, when hefollowed Drake to Aeramere, he did not know he would be staying in the fae land permanently. He always assumed they would go back to the Northernlands, but Drake chose to stay for the comfort of Creslyn, and while Kjeld understood the reasoning, he had no wife for whom to make such a sacrifice.
“It’s not a terrible idea.” Kjeld roughed his knuckles along the underside of his coarse beard. The pervasive cold and dismal gloom of Brackroth ran through his veins. His soul was bound to the harsh land like the deeply seated roots of an ancient ash tree. The voices of his ancestors could be heard singing through the frozen rivers of the north, their faces engraved into the steep slate cliff face of the mountains. He missed the slap of bitter wind when it stung his cheeks, he missed the icy bite of rain, but more than anything, he missed the dragons. He would spend hours in their lair in Brackroth, training the whelps, working with the riders, teaching them the commands. As Drake’s general, dragon-riding had been his livelihood.
Fortunately enough, he still had Odryss, his dragon. And Creslyn’s dragon, Astrylys, had three eggs she was protecting, though it would be a while before they were due to hatch. Yet time was now the enemy, for Kjeld had far too much of it. For him, the days were terribly long, and his patience was thinning with each passing hour.
“If venturing back to Brackroth is your preferred option as opposed to remaining here, then I might have an errand of interest for you.” Ariesian eased back in his seat and adjusted the lapel of his pristine black coat, the silver thread glinting in the afternoon light. His face remained unreadable as he eyed Kjeld with a kind of cool, stoic interest.
“What did you have in mind, my lord?” Kjeld leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. If the lord of starlight wished to send him off on some sort of secretive undertaking, then he would gladly accept. Especially if it meant he could spend his days in hishomeland, far away from one particular female, one he could not seem to quit from his mind.
Ariesian rubbed his temples, a line of concern pinching between his brows. “I have heard there is a witch queen who rules Brackroth now. One who is capable of walking between worlds through dreams. Who speaks with ravens. Whose beauty is a poison. Whose lips bring the kiss of death. It is rumored she hails from an archaic coven with extreme power.”
From the corner of Kjeld’s eyes, he caught Creslyn shiver, despite the early spring warmth lingering in the dining hall.
