Here, the air was chilled and damp. Below them, the Arcasian Sea gave way to the angry swells of the Havnokk Deep. The violent waves crashed against a jagged coastline, pummeling the rocky cliff face with sea foam and saltwater. Gray mist swirled around them, shrouding the sweeping mountain peaks of Brackroth from view, making the castle built on the rocky ledge overlooking the sea appear dismal and intimidating.
Caelian could understand why Creslyn was so eager to return to Aeramere.
There was nothing inviting about Brackroth.
Kjeld pulled his dragon’s reins and Odryss veered left, preparing to land in what looked like a rather bleak and muddy courtyard.
“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Caelian eased back, until she was able to stop herself from leaning into him, preparing herself for the inevitable impact. She grasped the leather of his vest, her nails scraping lightly against the smooth surface. “Should we land where the witch queen can see us? What if we’re not welcome?”
“If she is indeed a witch, I guarantee you she already knows we’re here.” He guided Odryss lower, wrapping one arm around Caelian’s waist. “Best to hold on, my lady.”
Hold on to what?
She didn’t dare ask the question that plagued her. Instead, she twisted to face him, flinging both of her arms around hisneck, and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a chance she could have been mistaken, but she could’ve sworn she heard Kjeld chuckle. The deep rumble of his amused laugh reverberated through her chest, awakening her nerves, sending a rush of heat pooling low in her belly.
Odryss touched down moments later, but what was only a few seconds felt like an agonizing amount of time. The sound of his claws digging into the solid earth splintered through the dreary courtyard as the chilly mist morphed into a damp drizzle. Caelian shivered, gradually pulling away from the safety of Kjeld once the dragon settled, lowering himself to the ground.
“Keep your hood up,” Kjeld murmured softly, his rough demand a whisper meant only for her. “Last time your sister was here, they did not take too kindly to the fact that she was fae.”
“They?” Caelian squeaked, peeking over her shoulder, and Kjeld jerked his head to the far side of the courtyard. “But what about you?”
He shrugged off her concern. “Let them try.”
She glanced in the same direction as his calculating gaze, and tiny needles of panic pricked along her spine. From a distance, she could barely make out the three figures walking toward them through the murky fog. They moved in unison, and only when they were close enough for Caelian to realize the witch queen was among them, did the guards flanking her expand from two to six. It was as though they were formed from the mist itself, seemingly appearing out of the unsettling air. The witch queen sauntered forward, her boots clicking soundly, echoing through the open courtyard. Crumbling stone walls rose all around them, littered with twisted vines as more guards appeared along the parapet. Every pair of eyes focused on Caelian and Kjeld. Watching. Tracking. Daring them to breathe.
Caelian gripped his hand, for no other reason than to calm the wild racing of her heart. “Do we…do we have a plan?”
“Yes. We’ve come to visit from Aeramere in a show of goodwill on behalf of the queen.” With shocking ease, he scooped her into his arms, dismounted quickly, then set her on the ground without even a labored breath. “We are only staying for a few days. We mention nothing of the dragon eggs. And we’re to be married.”
Caelian nodded along, but on that last addition, she reared back and glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the only way I can ensure your safety during the night.” Kjeld carefully adjusted her hood, keeping it in place over her slightly pointed ears. “If I am nothing more than your escort, a guard if you will, then we’ll be separated. I will have no way of protecting you. Besides, Ariesian will kill me if anything happens to you.”
She arched a brow, for surely this could not be the same man who harbored such hate against her for stealing his mortality. “I thought you wanted to be claimed by death.”
“I do.” Kjeld bit the words out. “But only on a battlefield, not because I failed at my duties as your babysitter.”
Caelian’s mouth fell open, and she quickly clamped it shut. “Forgive me, General. I did not realize I was such a burden.”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, some dark, shadowy blur of emotions, but then he blinked and it was gone. “Just pretend we’re in love and all will be well. Then we can return to Aeramere.”
“Wenfyre.”
Kjeld’s brows bunched together.
“Wenfyre,” Caelian repeated, unbothered by his needling glare. “After we’re done here, you will take me to Wenfyre so I can prove to my brother that I am worth something even without magic. We both know the only reason I’m here is to make sure the witch queen does not pay you any attention. At least let me feel like I am more than a pretty face. That I can be of value.”
Kjeld opened his mouth like he intended to say something, then thought better of it. He tensed, sensing the witch queen’s nearness, and carefully hooked Caelian’s hand into the crook of his elbow. Though the movement was graceful and smooth, his grip was firm. Relentless. “Whatever you say,min levska.”
Caelian had no idea what he said, but the way his accent thickened and rolled over each word like velvet made her knees soften.
They turned as one, as the couple they were pretending to be, and Caelian got her first real look at the apparent witch queen.
Caelian supposed she was expecting a hag. Or a hunched-over old woman with stringy gray hair and sagging skin. Instead, she found herself staring at a rather young and exceptionally beautiful woman. Though perhaps what surprised her the most was that she wasn’t very tall. In fact, Caelian stood a good head above her. But the witch queen did not need staggering height to make her threatening, her gaze alone was enough to make Caelian curl into Kjeld’s frame. Her eyes were gold and framed with dark, spidery lashes. She wore her hair in a loose plait, threaded with amber and topaz beads, the color of it reminded Caelian of raven feathers. Her full lips were painted a dazzling shade of ruby, and her skin was olive in tone despite the lack of sunshine. The dress she wore cut low across her bosom, its warm, earthy tones spilling around her in full layers. A sleek leather corset trimmed with lace was pulled snug around her waist, and she looked as though she was ready for a night of revelry.
Most curious, however, was though she was a queen, she wore no crown.
“It’s a rare occasion for Brackroth to receive visitors.” There was an almost chime-like quality to her voice, a startling contrast to her appearance, and her golden gaze roved over themboth, lingering on the way Kjeld refused to release his hold on Caelian’s hand. “A Northernlands fae and…”
