"There's never been a Basilius born without magic," I am practically giddy, shifting foot-to-foot. "I'm a Frost healer. I didn't realize it before because I attributed my rapid healing to Finn's tonics and balms. Even when I touched you in your Nox form and healed the black streaks in your arms and neck, I thought it was my light expunging your darkness. But it turns out, it was my Frost magic the entire time."
Atlas stares at me gobsmacked.
"Well." Nerves kick in and now I'm not sure if I should have given him the short version or waited until we were home to explain things in more detail. "Listen, I need you to say something. I want to know what you're thinking."
"A Frost healer?"
I nod.
"Wow," a smile spreads across his face, his eyes lighting up. "Aurelia Basilius-Sol. Light wielder. Frost healer. Dragon rider. You really are a beautiful force to be reckoned with." He snakes an arm around my waist, yanking me against his chest. He tips my chin up. "And you're mine." Atlas presses his lips against mine and a warm sensation pools in my lower belly.
"All yours," I whisper against his lips.
His hands slip up from my waist to my jawline and our kiss deepens. Oh stars, how I missed him. But in a cruel twist, Atlas pulls back and offers me an apologetic smile. "We should catch up with the others. No need for us to be late to another meeting."
I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Thrane would definitely send a search party this time."
He slips his warm hand into mine and tugs me to the hallway. "Come on. I think I know where they're headed."
We weave through the halls with lightning speed until we find a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. One is open, the attendant motioning our entourage to enter the grand meeting hall. Without missing a beat, or anyone noticing us, we slip in behind the others where an enormous wooden table runs the length of the room with arched stained-glass windows on the left and right sides.
Soren is seated at the far end of the table, his chair more throne like than the remaining ones. He rises, Ronan at his side, and makes his way toward us for introductions. "Welcome, King Thrane, to Tronovia!" Soren greets him and extends a hand, which my cousin readily accepts.
"Thank you for your warm welcome," Thrane says, his face neutral and not at all jovial like Soren's. "Your city is beautiful and your castle enviable."
"Coming from you," Soren's face lights up, "that is a tremendous honor." His gaze shifts from Thrane to my mother. His face softens. "My, my. Sylvane Basilus. I haven't seen you since the Great War. You haven't aged a day."
My mother steps forward and smiles. "It's good to see you again, Soren. You have raised quite the son," she tips her chin at Ronan. "He has your spirit."
"And his mother's eyes," he laughs and embraces my mother with a familiarness that tugs at my heart.
Sometimes it slips my mind the history between people like my mother and Soren. They fought in the Great War together and here they are after all these years on the brink of another threat to our realm.
My mother is the first to break the hug and twists to find me. "It seems I have you and your kin to thank for finding my daughter."
Soren's eyes flick up to meet mine. He smiles. "Ronan told me. It's an honor to be standing in the presence of Aurelia Basilius-Sol."
My chest swells. Already, there is expectation of me based on my name and I'm still getting used to it. Soren means no harm. I know his adoration comes from a good place. But all the attention now directed at me is making my skin crawl.
Thrane clears his throat. "Not to come across as rude, but can we get down to business and then play catch up?" Did Thrane just come to my rescue? I stare at my cousin, but whether he senses me watching him or not, he doesn't look my way as he claims the chair opposite Soren's.
Soren nods. "Of course, you're right. We do have much to discuss." He waves a hand in the direction of the table. "Once everyone takes a seat, we can begin."
As he commands, we claim the high-back wooden chairs and wait. Atlas slides his hand over my thigh and squeezes.
Soren intertwines his fingers and sets his hands on the table. "Ronan has already informed me of what transpired in Elowen. Bastian is what we feared him to be. Meaning war is on the horizon." He shifts his attention down the table at me. "And you are in grave danger."
"We will ensure Aurelia is kept safe," Thrane inserts, not sharing the king's concern. "What we really need to figure out is how we are going to convince the kings and queens of Bava, Durne, and Hydra to journey here for a war counsel."
"Why not just tell them plainly you want to discuss an impending war?" Nyx folds his arms across his chest. He asks like it's the simplest concept in the world, but even I know politics and diplomacy is never easy. Especially when war is the topic of discussion.
Thrane rolls his shoulders back, melting deeper into his chair. "Kings and queens do not appreciate being summoned. If I received a missive expecting me to travel to have a chat about the state of the world, I would ignore it or believe it to be a trap."
"Well, that's because you're you," Nyx says.
"Thank you." The corner of Thrane's mouth ticks upward. "But I'm far from the only stubborn ruler. Astrea from Hydra surely won't bother leaving her island for something so trivial and the Torben, King of Durne, hasn't left his castle in decades."
Nyx rolls his eyes and huffs, "You all are truly uncooperative."
