She leaned into Drake, as the light never quite reached him, her voice quiet when she said, “The Runes of Callievan.”
Drake nodded in agreement, then met Ariesian’s questioning stare. “They are exceptionally powerful. Every witch, through realms and centuries, can trace their lineage back to the Runes. They have a stronghold north of Brackroth, but their power is not limitless. They can be…eliminated.”
Drake’s dark green gaze flicked over to Creslyn. It was so quick, so fleeting, that it was hardly noticeable. But Kjeld saw it all the same.
She sucked in a breath, rolling her shoulders back. Her face, so much like Caelian’s, remained smooth and even. Giving nothing away. Keeping every carefully guarded secret locked tightly in her heart like that of a stone vault.
“Now, let’s not make too rash of a decision.” Ariesian lifted both of his hands, then gradually steepled them together. “I never said I wanted her life to be taken.”
Kjeld frowned, sharing a look of concern with Drake. Certainly he hadn’t misunderstood his intent. “Then what do you want?”
“I’d like to make certain she poses Aeramere no threat.” Ariesian glanced out the window, to the west, where the lush forest of House Terensel could not be seen on the horizon. “Wehave our own problems here that we must face. The last thing we need is some witch queen causing unnecessary distractions.”
“Understood.” Kjeld stood from the table, bowing slightly. “I will pack at once and ready Odryss for the journey.”
“Just a moment, General Holtstrom.” Drake inspected the silver dragon signet ring on his finger before dragging his keen gaze back up to where Kjeld was standing. “What makes you so certain this witch queen will even receive you?”
“I am of Brackroth.” Kjeld straightened, his chest expanding with a sense of pride he’d almost forgotten. “It is my home. Therefore she is my?—”
Drake arched one prominent brow. “As much as it may pain you to hear this, Kjeld, you are now a man of the Northernlands in name only. You are a large, hulking fae who carries an axe of iron strapped to his back.”
He shook his head then, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “The witch queen is going to take one look at you and order every guard in her vicinity to raise arms.”
Kjeld scoffed. “I’m hardly that intimidating.”
Creslyn snorted, then laughed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. “Have you taken a recent look in the mirror, Kjeld? Your stature is overwhelming. You take up space in every room you enter, though not for lack of trying. Lords fear you. Ladies swoon for you. You are certainly intimidating, in quite possibly the best and worst of ways.”
Kjeld bristled. It wasn’t a compliment, but it was not yet an insult either. He was fully aware of his transformation, of how much he physically changed when Caelian wished for him to be fae. He’d been fit as a human, but after becoming immortal, his muscles had increased dramatically to the point where he needed to be outfitted for new riding leathers. His strength knew no bounds. Everything else had been heightened as well. His sense of smell, his hearing, from which he knew where Caelianwas at all times. It was incredibly easy to track someone whose crying sounded like the spellbinding call of Valorahan, and who smelled of starflower, radiant amber, and vanilla.
“Then I will try to be less—” Kjeld began, but Creslyn interrupted him with a wave of her hand.
“Nonsense. You shall keep being you.” Her gaze flitted between her brother and Drake before finally landing on Kjeld. She tapped one finger on her chin. “Though I wonder if you shouldn’t be sent back to Brackroth with an escort.”
“An escort?” He almost laughed, for it was a ridiculous notion. “I beg your pardon, my lady. But I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need anyone to protect me.”
“Certainly not,” Ariesian agreed, canting his head to one side. “However, Cres brings up an excellent point. You wouldn’t necessarily need someone to keep you safe, but I do believe it would benefit all of us if you were sent with someone more…well-versed in the ways of court and society.”
“Are you suggesting I require assistance with manners?” Kjeld asked, rolling back his large shoulders.
“Not at all.” The corner of Ariesian’s mouth tugged at one side, as though he was debating a smile. But his expression remained impassive as he spread his hands, vaguely gesturing to the room as a whole. “I’m merely suggesting you bring a lady of court with you to soften your…appearance.”
“A lady,” Kjeld repeated, and trepidation pricked along his spine. Awareness raised the hairs at the back of his neck, and a knot of dread clogged the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, pushing the unwelcome sensation back, because there was only oneladythey could possibly be discussing, and she was the last person he wanted within his general proximity. “And who, exactly, did you have in mind?”
Don’t say her name.
Please, gods above and below, don’t say her name.
His pleading to the old gods went unanswered.
“There’s only one logical option,” Drake mused. He captured Creslyn’s hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I believe Lady Caelian will fill the necessary requirements. Don’t you agree,solysa?”
Creslyn pursed her lips in thought, but her sapphire eyes held no mocking humor as she gauged Kjeld’s reaction. “I know you do not wish for her to go.”
He opened his mouth to agree with the whole of his chest, but she continued speaking, not giving him the opportunity to make his claim as to why it was a terrible idea.
“However,” Creslyn began, her face softening, illuminating, as she watched him. And suddenly, there she was again, the lady of Aeramere he’d once been sworn to protect. “You have seen her, Kjeld. She is wasting away here. Her spirit is desolate. Her soul is melancholy. Without her magic, she is withdrawn. Wilting like a summer rose.”
Kjeld popped his jaw.
