Page 141 of Destiny of a King

Adira shook her head again, refusing even the possibility.

“I will do all I can for it not to happen.” His arm tightened around her, tugging her hard against him. “But if it does, you remember that I will come for you. I will search to the ends of the earth for you if we are ever separated.”

She nodded, though she did not even want to think of such a thing.

“And no matter what happens here, you do not doubt that.”

She nodded again, having no doubt he would find her and having no doubt she would wait for him.

Adira touched his chest, then placed her hand over her own heart.

Dravic understood, felt her silent words of love, and settled his lips over hers.

There was no urgency in the kiss. He kissed her slowly, lingering in the moment, not knowing when he would have another.

Adira felt it in him and herself, the uncertainty if they would ever share another kiss. She chased away the heartbreaking thought, refusing to believe it was even possible. And yet, the odds were against them here. Still, she held out hope. She would not lose him. She refused to.

Both their heads turned at the sound of heavy footfalls beyond the door.

They looked at each other. Their time alone was ending.

“No one can know that you are able to hear, not yet,” Dravic said quickly.

Adira nodded, agreeing.

Their lips met quickly as if sealing a pact and with arms around each other, they faced their destiny together.

The bolt on the door scraped back and several warriors entered.

“You’re to come with us,” one said.

Dravic didn’t bother asking where. He had demanded answers since arriving. Apparently, someone was finally prepared to give them.

He and Adira locked hands as they were escorted from the room and along the corridor.

Dravic kept her beside him as they descended the winding staircase, and she remained there when they reached the lower level of the castle and were led along a broad corridor.

Two massive wooden doors stood open ahead.

Dravic could see the Great Hall beyond.

Warriors lined the walls as he and Adira entered. Conversations ceased and faces turned toward them, but Dravic paid little attention to any of them.

His gaze went directly to the man standing before the dais.

Silver threaded the dark hair that fell past his shoulders and more showed in the closely trimmed beard covering a hard jaw. He was tall and broad through the shoulders, his powerful build untouched by age, as were his fine features. His dark eyes were the same as Dravic remembered—sharp, watchful, and possessing the confidence of a man accustomed to command.

Tharne, the Warlord of Drogath.

Here in Scotara, in the heart of winter. How had he managed that?

Dravic felt Adira move closer to him. His fingers tightened around hers.

Tharne’s gaze shifted to Adira. Something changed in his expression. It was slight enough that another man might have missed it.

Dravic did not. He stepped slightly in front of Adira.

Tharne’s gaze finally returned to him. “You have something that belongs to me, King Dravic.”