Bria stopped him from going any further. “And we don’t need to. You told me about the beast, its history, and how your tribe embraced it. Besides, I believe there is a bit of a beast in all of us.”
He let go of her hands to slip his arms around her waist and draw her close. “And where does your beast hide?”
She smiled wickedly, “She is there. You just need to coax her out.”
“I look forward to it,” he said, and lowered his brow to rest against hers. “I love you, Bria, more than I thought possible. And though I hate to admit that Fiora speaks truth. You are a brave one and I am so proud to call you my wife.”
“So, finally you admit I am right., You just forgot to add, always. I am always right. Now stop that smoochie, smoochie stuff and get moving. We have a king to see.”
Kaelan looked about to swat at her. “The beast is going to swallow her whole one day.”
Bria laughed. “Do you really want her flitting around in your stomach?”
Kaelan groaned. “At least, I only have to put up with her until we leave for Northland.”
“Did I hear you say, Northland?” Fiora asked, flying back toward them. “How is it there? You know, in case I want to visit.”
“One swat, just one swat,” he whispered to Bria.
She laughed again and though the day held some sorrow, it also held promise for the future, preferably without Fiora.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Caerith Castle
Home of the King
King Dravic stood at the large war table that dominated the room.
Maps covered nearly every inch of its scarred surface. Colored stones marked troop movements, trade routes, and border settlements. Reports lay scattered among them, some weighted down with daggers, others rolled and tied with cord awaiting review.
The war room had once belonged to his father and before that his grandfather. Unlike the grand halls of Caerith, there was little decoration here. Stone walls, a massive hearth, shelves crowded with maps and records, and a single purpose—to prepare for threats before they reached Scotara’s borders.
A purpose that seemed more necessary with each passing day.
Rain tapped at the tall windows overlooking the city below.
Dravic paid it no mind. He stood with one hand braced on the table, broad shoulders filling the space around him. Dark hair brushed his shoulders, and years of carrying a crown had carved authority into every hard line of his face. He did not need to raise his voice to command a room. His presence alone often accomplished that.
Few forgot they stood before a king and even fewer dared challenge him.
“So, Tavish, you are telling me that a Northlander saved the Wise woman, Wynn, from being captured by a Drogath spy and not my Hunters?” the king asked, keeping his attention on the war table.
Tavish stood with his arms braced behind his back, calm and not at all concerned about being questioned for a second time. He had been the king’s royal advisor long enough to know not only the king well, but the man himself.
“Aye, my king. He also saved half of the troop of Hunters and his wife, who is also a Wise woman. Though she does not have the years of experience that Wynn, her great-grandmother, does. And Kaelan killed the Drogath spy, Dreth, as well.”
The king raised his head, hearing that. “Dreth was one of Tharne’s most successful spies. Tharne will not be happy with that news, or that whatever information Dreth gathered is now lost to him.”
“Some of his men got away but Dreth was not known to share what he learned. So, you are right, Tharne will not be happy to hear that. But the news is good for us because now we know that Tharne searches for the healer who can defeat death.”
“Never,” the king said sharply. “Never will another find her before me and take her away from Scotara. She belongs here. Has Elara anything to report on her search for the healer?”
“Nothing significant. She is following tales, piecing things together, but she has yet to gather enough to pinpoint where she might be.”
The king moved a metal piece on the map. “What else brings Dar and Elara here?”
“Concern for Wynn, the Wise woman.”
