“Come, Lady Caelian.” Kjeld gestured to Odryss, his movements stiff, his tone exceedingly formal. But she made her sentiments known. Until he could figure out what the hell was wrong with him, there would be no more familiarity between them. “Wenfyre awaits. I should like to arrive before the fall of dusk.”
“Right.” Caelian worried her bottom lip between her teeth before dropping into a perfect curtsy. “Farewell, Your Majesty. I do hope we see each other again one day.”
“Of that,” Queen Viktoria inclined her head, her eyes glinting like molten gold, “I have no doubt.”
Kjeld climbed into the seat fastened onto Odryss’s back, then reached out his hand for Caelian. He pretended not to notice the way she hesitated at first, nearly recoiling at the notion of having to touch him, and when she placed her hand in his, he hauled her into his lap. She clasped her hands together, her posture prim. Kjeld looped one arm around her waist to keep her safe, then gathered the reins in his hand.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Kjeld asked, his voice even. Detached.
“Of course.” She sniffed, swiping at a few misty droplets that collected on her cape.
Caelian lifted her hand, waving goodbye to Queen Viktoria, and Kjeld gave the reins a slight tug. Odryss rose without command, stretching his fibrous wings and putting his weight on his hind haunches.
“Vaeja.”Kjeld locked himself in place, and the dragon shot into the sky in a burst of force. Despite her best effort to remain upright, Caelian toppled against Kjeld’s chest, her fingers gripping the loose end of the reins until her knuckles turned white.
Kjeld frowned. “What’s wrong? You’ve done this before, there is nothing to fear.”
“I know.” Her heartbeat stuttered through his veins. She squeezed her eyes shut as they tore through the low-lying clouds, circling around Castle Brackroth once before turning southeast. “But never like this.”
Gusts of cool wind ripped past them and Kjeld pulled her closer into him, his hold around her waist firm and secure. “You’re safe with me, Caelian. I will not let you fall.”
She nodded sharply, eyes opening, lashes fluttering as they soared through the dreary sky toward Wenfyre.
Odryss carried them over the staggered mountain peaks encircling Brackroth, then further south along the jutted coastline. Kjeld had never traveled to Wenfyre before, and though he knew very little about Druids, he knew the land itself was steeped in magic. When he was a boy, he heard stories about the ancient realm secluded by a powerful barrier of sentient trees. The Myrkwild was rumored to be an enchanted forest full of mythical and fantastical creatures. One did not enter the Myrkwild without purpose, for it was said those who wandered into its alluring woods out of curiosity often found themselves lost, only to end up right back where they started—at the border of mortal and immortal worlds.
Supposedly, the Myrkwild was home to the Eldergrove, a majestic tree whose expansive branches and emerald leaves were a safe haven. Whose roots were so deep, no gale could ever destroy it. Whose very existence was a source of endless magic. A true Tree of Life.
Eventually, the angry waves of the Havnokk Deep, the lashing body of water battering Brackroth’s coast, gave way to a dense sea mist. To the west, thunder rumbled and turquoise water churned. The air here was damp and thick, the tang of salt mingling with the heady scent of rose and sandalwood.
Odryss swept lower, clinging to the barely visible scrap of land, as they approached the barrier between worlds.
“Look.” Kjeld pointed out over the expanse of water. “Just there.”
Caelian peered over his shoulder, her sapphire eyes widening in shock. “What is that?”
“The Drowned Veil.” Kjeld steered Odryss closer to the shoreline, where canopies of rich green sprouted and white flowers blossomed like snowflakes. “I’ve never seen it before, but I’ve heard tales of its treacherous waters.”
“Are those…” Her voice trailed off.
“Whirlpools,” he finished for her. “Yes. The Druids are protected by both land and sea. The Myrkwild stands guard against any who would cause them harm, and the Drowned Veil serves as a lethal deterrent. The mist is so heavy, those who sail into its waters know not what awaits them. The maelstroms are inescapable, a testament to the ocean’s namesake. With strong tides and ravaging currents, I imagine the bottom of the ocean floor is a graveyard of shipwrecks.”
Caelian shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “How horrifying.”
Kjeld gave a small nod. “We should be grateful for the wings of a dragon, and not the hull of a ship.”
“Perhaps we should turn back.” She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes filled with shadows of worry. “Maybe we were too hasty in our departure from Brackroth. I am sure there’s more to be done, more to learn from Queen Viktoria.”
But the mist surrounding them gradually evaporated, and they were greeted with startling blue skies dotted with clouds of puffy white. Balmy, soothing air and a gentle breeze carried them closer to the edge of a dazzling forest that shimmered in the glowing wash of sunlight—the Myrkwild. Crystalline waves lapped against a curving, crescent strip of sand, and Kjeld’s stomach dropped.
“I fear such a change of plans might be too late.” His gaze focused on the bodies gathering below them on the beach, awaiting their arrival. “It seems like the Druids already know we’re here.”
Caelian’s quick intake of breath was sharp and gasping.
There was no turning back now.
Kjeld guided Odryss lower, and the dragon swooped toward the beach, his claws sinking into the sand as he landed near the water’s edge.
A woman walked toward them, clad in robes of soft pink and sage green. Tendrils of brown hair were twisted into an elaborate style, embellished with golden flowers and gilded twigs. Her eyes were kind and her smile was wide, and though Kjeld swore he’d never met her before, there was something oddly familiar about her face.
