His voice carried the same sharp edge Bria remembered from the vision.
Ogga remained perfectly composed, a slight tilt to her head as if what he felt mattered little to her.
“Then perhaps you should cultivate patience, Dreth.”
His jaw tightened. “Tread lightly, Ogga. Patience is not something Tharne possesses and either is fear of witches.” He took another step forward. “You promised results. So far you have proved worthless to me.”
The hall fell silent.
Bria felt Kaelan’s attention sharpen beside her, his hand moving to rest on her wrist, a casual gesture between a husband and wife, but she knew differently. His hand rested there, ready to grab her and run if necessary.
Ogga folded her arms across her chest. “Tharne may not fear witches, but he isn’t here at the moment. So, I would be very careful what you say to me, or I may just have to rid you of your voice.”
“That would not set well with Tharne.” He shook his head. “You really have no idea of the lengths Tharne has gone to in order to win the impending war. Your spells, curses, or whatever it is you witches work on others, are useless on me. Tharne sent me here well protected. Now, can you deliver the healer capable of pulling the dying back from death itself or not?”
The words settled heavily through the hall.
Bria felt Kaelan tighten his hand on her wrist.
Ogga’s expression revealed nothing, but her eyes did not hide her anger. “You will have your healer and Tharne better keep the promise made to me.”
Dreth’s expression darkened. “You will have your reward as promised, provided you deliver the healer.”
Bria’s heart went out to the mysterious healer. It seemed as if everyone searched for her. Surely, she could not remain hidden from them for long. She was bound to be found, then what? Would she forever be held captive to do their bidding?
“I have no time to waste,” Dreth said. “See it done, Ogga, or someone else will rule Driochmor. I go and continue recruiting for Tharne.”
That caught Kaelan’s attention immediately.
“Recruiting whom?” Ogga asked.
Dreth smiled coldly. “Anyone wise enough to recognize which side will win or anyone who hungers for power. Drogath does not prepare for war. It stands ready for war and once this healer is found… Scotara will fall.”
His gaze settled briefly on Braden. “And Tharne will reward those as promised.”
Braden’s smile answered the look.
The meaning was clear enough… Braden would fight for Drogath.
Kaelan leaned his head down to whisper to Bria, “We need to get to the council to warn them and then to the king, if it is not already too late.”
“The gods forbid,” Bria murmured, the thought sending a shiver through her. “Scotara cannot fall.”
Kaelan placed a kiss on his wife’s temple while whispering, “We need to get out of here posthaste.”
“The question is how?” Bria asked.
She watched her husband give it thought while his eyes followed Dreth and Braden out of the Great Hall. Then he slipped off the bench, not letting go of her hand and eased her to her feet to stand beside him.
Bria understood he was positioning himself to fight if necessary and his words confirmed it.
“You will flee if given the chance,” he ordered sternly.
Her response was sharp. “I will not leave you.”
“You will. I command it,” he said, his voice low but not lacking strength.
“Command or not, I will not leave you. I cannot leave you. Find another way,” she ordered this time and when he looked ready to argue, she poked him in the chest. “Do not waste your breath. You will not win this argument.”
