Page 104 of Destiny of a King

Dravic glanced at him. “And they do not approach strangers?”

“Rarely.”

Dravic looked at Adira. She was stroking one finger gently over the silvren’s tiny head while the other two creatures ventured closer. He was curious at what attracted the creatures to Adira, but, for the moment, he thought it was best he left it alone.

The silvren leapt from Adira’s hand and disappeared beneath the tree root. Its companions followed.

Adira stood reluctantly, wishing the tiny creatures had lingered and noticed several villagers continued to stare at her.

Dravic saw the same and not sure why—her uncanny way with the creature or because she traveled with him—he spoke up.

“Adira is under my protection,” he said with a raised voice and in a way that made it clear they did not need to know any more than that.

Adira looked up at him. She did not know what he had said, but she recognized the warning in his expression as his gaze swept the villagers.

Merek’s brow rose slightly. “Word reached us that the king traveled with a woman who cannot hear or speak.”

Dravic’s attention snapped back to him. “Word travels with remarkable detail in Driochmor.”

Merek shrugged. “People talk.”

“Apparently fairies do as well,” Dravic said.

“I heard that!” Fiora called out.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Questions Without Answers

A Precious Secret

They resumed walking.

The villagers no longer openly stared at Adira, though Dravic caught more than one curious glance in her direction.

“I understand their distrust of me⁠—”

Merek stopped him. “Your grandda gave us many reasons not to trust the crown. We fought for Scotara in the Great War. Men and women from Driochmor left their families and fought beside yours. Many never returned.”

“Aye,” Dravic said, “many lives in Scotara were lost and many left with wounds that were hard to recover from, if at all. It was good those in the kingdom stood side by side. That unity, that courage and sacrifice is what won the war.”

Merek’s voice hardened. “You speak of unity. We came home believing what we sacrificed mattered. Then your parents died, and suddenly the people they fought beside looked upon us as enemies.”

Dravic felt the weight of the villagers’ stares differently now. He had thought he understood their distrust. He had not. Tharne would.

A man preparing for war would seek every weakness in the kingdom he intended to conquer, and Dravic had just walked directly into one his grandda had helped create.

“These people still belong to Scotara,” Dravic said.

Merek turned to him. “Aye.”

“But belonging to Scotara and being willing to die for it again are not the same thing.”

Merek stared at him for a long moment. “Nay, my king. They are not.”

Dravic looked around Thorskaill once more. He had had no plans to come to Driochmor, but fate had thought otherwise and he was glad fate had.

He was beginning to understand that before he could ask these people to stand with him, he would first have to prove he was not King Halric—and that Scotara was still worth standing for.