She canted her head to the side, eyeing Caelian speculatively. “And a fae born of stars and earth. How interesting.”
Caelian glanced at Kjeld from the corner of her eye. So much for keeping her fae identity a secret.
“General Kjeld Holtstrom, former trainer of Brackroth’s Dragon Legion, at your service.” Kjeld bowed deeply, urging Caelian into an awkward curtsy. “And this is Lady Caelian Starstorm Celestine of Aeramere…my betrothed.”
He sounded like he almost choked on the word and Caelian scoffed.
The witch queen’s eerie eyes focused on her again. “Welcome, Lady Caelian.” Her mouth twitched at the corner and she looked up at Kjeld. “And General, to you, welcome home. I am Queen Viktoria Kalstrand.”
This time, Kjeld did choke.
Because that was Drake’s last name, which could only mean…
“I am the bastard daughter of the late King Marius Kalstrand and his mistress Zaleria, famed witch of the Runes of Callievan.” She inclined her head, tapping one sharp painted nail to her chin. “I have heard, Lady Caelian, that your twin sister is responsible for the deaths of my parents.”
At once, Kjeld shoved her behind him, shielding her behind his massive body. “Lady Caelian harbors no blame for her sister’s actions.”
“Of course not.” Queen Viktoria flitted her fingers through the air, paying his protective stance no heed. “My father was a cruel and unjust ruler who thrived on rage and madness. And my mother…well, she was a witch.”
There was a mocking kind of humor in her tone, and Caelian peered out from behind Kjeld’s large frame.
The queen turned then, gesturing to the two figures standing behind her.
One was an older woman with a stern face whose snowy white hair was pulled into a terribly tight bun at the back of her head. She wore a pleated navy dress with long white sleeves, and her hands were clasped before her. Honestly, she appeared rather dour and starched, like an unhappy maid who’d been forced to clean the bathing suite. The man next to her, however, was quite the sight.
Remarkable.
Breathtaking.
He was tall like Kjeld, though not nearly as muscular, with an easy smile and peculiar eyes. They reminded Caelian of a storm, a moody gray with flecks of gold like lightning. His face was lean, his jawline sharp, and his inky black hair was swept to one side, with pieces curling lightly at the nape of his neck. She found it curious that his ears were pointed—much like hers—except he didn’t quite look fae. He was something else. He wore a heavy overcoat of gray, sleek black pants, and a crisp crimson shirt. Despite the fact that he’d not yet said a word, he dripped with a kind of smooth confidence, the sort that drew people to him like bees to honey. His expression was inviting and effortless, and Caelian felt like she was being lured, pulled into him the longer he stared at her.
“This is Brynhild Falk, my advisor.” The queen nodded toward the sour-looking woman, her face transitioning into one of admiration when she introduced the man to her left. “And Elder Lothaire of the Stravoka Clan.”
A clan of what?
Maybe that was a new collective term for a group of witches instead of a coven. Before Caelian could ask, Queen Viktoria continued uninterrupted. “The past is the past, of course. Andanyway, you’ve arrived just in time. I’m hosting a ball tonight to celebrate Evarfest. You should both attend.”
Though she knew she should be wary of such a notion, Caelian was giddy at the prospect of a ball. For no other reason than the chatter of voices and drone of music would grant her some peace and stability. “I would love to, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid I am not in possession of the appropriate attire for such a formal occasion.”
“An easy remedy.” Queen Viktoria’s hand wove through the air in another careless wave, then started walking back toward the arching castle doors. “I will make certain you have plenty of clothing for the length of your stay.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, the corner of her mouth pulling at one corner. “Now, I assume you both will be sharing a bedroom, given your current status?”
This time it was Caelian’s turn to choke.
She had every intention of sputtering out any number of absurd excuses why she shouldn’t share a room, much less a bed, with Kjeld Holtstrom. But before she could open her mouth, before she could make her case for private quarters, Kjeld tugged her so close that she almost tripped over her own two feet.
“Aye.” He patted her hand dutifully. “It would be a lovely convenience if possible. Whether we share a room or at least two that are connected.”
Ah.
So, Kjeld didn’t really want to share the same room as her, he just wanted to be nearby. Just in case. Hopefully the queen could grant them a favor and put them in adjoining rooms as opposed to a chamber with just one bed.
“Wonderful.” Queen Viktoria started toward the castle, with Brynhild and Elder Lothaire following closely behind. “And as for your dragon eggs, I will make sure they are safely stowed in your room as well. By the hearth, so they keep warm.”
Caelian stumbled then, the toe of her boot catching on an uneven patch of stone, and she was grateful Kjeld had the decency to catch her.
How in the stars did she know they had brought dragon eggs with them? It was impossible. They were safely stored in one of the satchels, and she assumed Kjeld intended to move them covertly once most of the castle was asleep for the night.
