“You know her.” Caelian confirmed it as a statement of fact and not a question.
“Yes. Yes, I know her.” Morwyn’s face was solemn and impassive when she said, “Elowyn is my aunt.”
“Aunt?” Caelian repeated, a strange sense of numbness settling in her limbs.
“Yes, she was my mother’s sister. Estranged sister, but still. Elowyn is of my blood.” An invisible weight settled around Morwyn’s shoulders, a heaviness cloaked in the misery of thepast. “Go ahead and get settled in your rooms. I will have Lira bring you something more comfortable to wear and then we will talk.”
Morwyn floated down the spiraling staircase, leaving Caelian in a silent standoff with Kjeld. Though they were only a few paces from each other, it was as though they were worlds apart, the space between them vast and desolate.
And yet…
“You came. You came ready to defend me when you thought something was wrong.” Caelian grasped the engraved doorknob, her thumb grazing the whorls. Her gaze flitted up to him, knowing he could not lie. “Why?”
Kjeld set his jaw, the muscles of his arms bunching and flexing with tightly wound tension. He inhaled deeply before speaking, taking care with each word he uttered. “I already told you, I am triggered by the beating of your heart.”
She rolled her lips together. “That explainshow.But notwhy. I want to know why.”
Kjeld closed his eyes, and when he opened them a moment later, an emotion banked deep in his pools of summery blue. “Because.”
Caelian snorted. “Because?”
That was it? That was the best he could do?
But what he said next stole her breath.
“You are mine to defend.”
Caelian knew she shouldn’t read too much into it. Yes, it was the truth, but it was open to interpretation. Besides, Kjeld had promised both Ariesian and Drake that he would take care of her, so perhaps that’s what he meant.
Or maybe, just maybe, there was something more.
But Kjeld stormed back into his room before she could ask, and Caelian was left to wonder if the inability to lie in Wenfyre would be a blessing or a curse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Afew hours later, after Kjeld made sure the dragon eggs were snugly wrapped in blankets and kept warm, he found himself seated in a private sitting room with Caelian, Morwyn, Sylvan, and Lira.
The area was comfortable enough, yet still Kjeld felt he took up too much space. Morwyn was on a plush sofa with Sylvan and Lira on either side of her. There was a round oak table before them with a pot of tea and a platter of little cakes no bigger than his finger. Late afternoon sunlight poured in through stained glass windows, sifted by mossy green gossamer curtains. Kjeld sat upon a bench propped up by overgrown roots, his large frame taking up most of the cushions, making him all the more aware of Caelian’s presence.
She was seated next to him, and every time she moved or breathed, some part of her body touched his own. Her arm. Shoulder. Thigh. Knee. Each accidental brush heightened his already strained nerves. To make matters worse, he found it incredibly difficult to take his eyes off her. She’d changed into some clothing provided to her by Lira and for the first time since he’d met Caelian, she looked relaxed. Comfortable and at ease in her own skin.
She wore a dress of softly spun green cotton that swept off her shoulders. The sleeves were long and loose, while tiny pink flowers dotted the low neckline. A brown leather corset bound her waist, amplifying her curves, and her skirts fell in layers of varying shades of pink and green. Her feet, he noticed, remained bare. And she still wore the crown of flowers Lira placed upon her head when they first arrived.
Kjeld himself opted for loose pants, a pair of supple leather boots, and a sleeveless fitted vest, a vastly more ideal clothing option given the warm, humid weather.
“I suppose it’s time we discuss the inevitable.” Morwyn absently stirred her cup of tea, the clinking noise echoing in the hushed quiet of the room. “Let me start at the beginning, and then you can tell me about Aeramere.”
Beside him, Caelian nodded stoically, folding her hands in her lap. She crossed her legs and her skirts tumbled, revealing the smooth length of her ankle all the way to her upper thigh.
Kjeld worked his jaw, grinding his teeth to keep from reaching over and covering her up. He told himself it was to protect her modesty, but Sylvan didn’t even blink twice or look at all distracted by the amount of skin Caelian had on display. In fact, the Druid’s expression remained stern, focused on his queen’s face.
“Elowyn was two years younger than my mother. As children, they were always close, but Elowyn was troubled. She never took the Druidic ways to heart, oftentimes lashing out at their parents. She rebelled in every way possible, from blatantly disrespecting the land to using her magic as a weapon.” Morwyn sipped her tea slowly, her words lingering while the steam unfurled from her cup. “My mother, Ariawyn, was willing to forgive. To forget. So long as Elowyn agreed to make an effort to change her path. But she strayed further from the light and became ensnared in the darkness. Because she used her magicfor selfish purposes, she became that which she sought. Foul. Rotten. It showed in the form of blemishes upon her skin, leaving her appearance haggard and decrepit.”
Morwyn stared into her nearly empty cup, giving it a small swirl, as though perhaps the damp tea leaves could provide her an answer.
“She left Wenfyre, then?” Caelian asked, leaning forward, her fingers twisting the cotton fabric of her skirts into wrinkled knots.
“She did not leave.” This from Sylvan, whose stoic presence had yet to ease. His voice was cool and empty, detached of any emotion. “Elowyn was banished.”
