Keira could hear what she was implying. She could barely move. But by the Fate she would be strong enough for this. There was still a whole day to recover.
“There’s no way to get there in time,” Yvette pressed. “It took us days to travel here.”
Keira’s brow raised. “You think I’m going to walk there?”
“How else?”
“Magic,” Keira said. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Yvette claimed to have the gift. “A teleportation circle can get us there in a moment.”
She did honestly look surprised.
“I can teach you,” Keira continued.
“How many can the spell transport?”
She frowned. “Ordinarily only the caster, but I can lay down a fixed portal for the others. The magic I would need… might be beyond me. But at least I could go there alone.”
Yvette nodded slowly, thinking. “What if I helped?”
Keira sat up fully and guzzled the water. A plan was forming in her own mind, and it started with getting herself back on her feet. As soon as Knox came to, she would see what he was brewing. That is, after she apologised for antagonizing him. She knew how much he hated his wolf, hated losing control. Once he was back on his feet, they could make something that would restore her, at least enough to see this through. With Yvette’s help, she could open a sustained portal, even if she wasn’t trained. Her power would lighten the burden… she could only hope it would be enough.
“I can trust you, can’t I?” Keira asked. Everything hinged on being able to trust this stranger, who had apparently been instrumental in creating this disaster in the first place. Not ideal, but she’d use every tool at her disposal, as long as she could trust it not to stab her in the back.
“I want to make this right.”
“If you care so much about doing the right thing, why did you help him do this?” she accused, not caring if her tone was harsh and heartless. The sting of it couldn’t compare to a fraction of what she’d endured.
To her credit, she did not shy away from the accusation. “Because he asked me to, and I loved him.”
She decided not to ask her how on earth she could love such a clearly demented person. “And if I decide to slit his throat for what he’s put me through?” Keira posed.
Yvette’s eyes narrowed. “Would that really fix anything? Hurting him won’t rewrite the past.”
Her brows raised, but she offered no reply. She was clever. Keira could respect that, and killing Lord Redfield wouldn’t fix anything, except for ridding the world of a truly despicable person. That didn’t mean that Keira wouldn’t squash him like a bug if he tried to stand in her way.
Whatever it took, she would stop this wedding.
Caspian
Caspian roused with reluctance. His body felt as if it were made of iron, as if he had rusted overnight. For the first time in days, he woke in his own bed. He and the prince had not returned to Northall until the hour was late the night before, the rest of the keep already abed.
They had managed to root out the bandits and turn them over to the sheriff the day before. Though it would have been preferable to spend the night at the town’s tiny inn, he could not risk being absent today. They had ridden into the small hours to ensure that he returned in time.
He opened his eyes, greeted by his wedding clothes, hung up on a tiered stand as if being worn by a ghost. The doublet was the deep blue of Northall with twin white bears facing one another on either side of the chest. Ordinarily, the bear of Northall was a steely grey, but he recalled the tailor had thought it wasa stylistic nod to his unusual coloring. Caspian hadn’t argued.
A great cape of velvet, shouldered with bear pelt, was hung above it. Below, his black boots stood at attention, already polished to perfection. Sitting to the side in an aged oak box was the crown of Northall. It was no dazzling piece, just a simple band of iron. He was thankful for that, at least. The more extravagant his clothing became, the more like a costume it felt, the more he felt like an actor, a pretender.
A groan followed him as Caspian rolled onto his back. He stared up at the canopy of heavy drapes, trying to find the will to rise, when he sensed some small irritation digging into his shoulder. His brow set heavily as he twisted to reach the object. Pinching the twig between his fingers, he raised it for his inspection, assuming it was something he had tracked in from his travels. He’d hardly bothered to change his clothes before falling into bed.
However, what he found was a sprig of holly. It had seen better days, wilted and wrinkled from being lost in the bedding for so long. There was no question of how it had gotten there, of course. She’d been wearing a crown of them in her hair that night.
Caspian lay there still, unblinking. He’d not been prepared for this, for a reminder that Keira had indeed lain next to him in this bed, hair wild from their passions, her hand resting on his chest.
A sigh shuddered through him.
Of course, he knew it was time to move on. That’s what all of this was for. Once the ceremony was done, once his fate was tied to another, he would finally be able to let her go. Only then could he begin to heal. He knew that. But what if he couldn’t? What if all he wanted even now was to wake up in this bed with her at his side…
He twirled the sprig of holly between his fingers. He hadn’t even had the chance to see her that morning after the Holly Festival. She was already gone… The certainty that she would never come back had already settled deep into his bones. With a heavy breath, he rekindled that night in his memory. Images of their pleasure, their intimacy, scored through him. He’d denied himself these memories for days, shoving them away to forestall the pain, but there was something cleansing in it. The aching desire to have her back in his arms was overwhelming, but therewas solace too in the knowledge that no matter how it had ended, at least for one night it had been perfect…
