Page 156 of Destiny of a King

“That’s an understatement, but he’s one of the good ones,” Fiora said, zipping past Kaelen’s head.

Kaelen continued. “He brought several of his large friends with him. Surrender was swift.”

Dravic was glad to hear it. “Take a seat. There is much that needs to be said here today.”

The others settled around a nearby table, though their attention was on his and Adira’s joined hands. It mattered not to him. Everyone would know soon enough how he felt about her and what he intended to do about it.

But for now… he turned his attention to Feena.

“In the forest, you told us magical healers would not be necessary to help Adira.”

The room quieted.

Dravic’s voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the command beneath it. “Explain.”

Feena held Dravic’s gaze. “Aye, my king.”

She glanced briefly toward Adira, then back to him. “Many years ago, there was a warrior of the Morvane Clan. He was feared by those who knew only his name and his bloodline. They saw the clan he came from and believed they knew the man.” Her gaze softened. “But there was a healer from Leighfeld who saw beyond that.”

Adira listened carefully.

“They were not meant to meet. Their worlds were different. One raised among warriors and magic, the other among those who spent their lives tending to the sick and wounded.” A small smile touched Feena’s face. “But they found each other and, against all odds, fell in love.”

“For a time, they believed they could leave everything behind and begin a new life together. They planned to run away before those who opposed them could tear them apart. But fate had other plans.” She looked toward Tharne. “The warrior was forced away before they could leave. Before he went, he promised the healer that no matter what happened, he would return to her and their bairn.”

Adira’s hand tightened around Dravic’s.

Feena continued. “The daughter they brought into the world carried the gifts of both parents. The magic of the Morvane ancient bloodline and the gift of healing passed down through generations of exceptional healers.”

Elara spoke up. “You speak of the tale of the healer who can defy death.”

Everyone kept their eyes on Feena, waiting.

Feena was silent for a moment, then she nodded. “Aye, but it is no tale. It is the truth.”

Dravic stared at the woman, the pieces of her story falling easily into place and he quickly asked, “What are you saying, Feena?”

“I am the woman in the tale,” Feena said, and as she did, a pale light shimmered around her.

The woman all knew as Feena began to fade away, replaced by a woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Adira, though older with slight lines around her pale blue eyes that turned a deeper blue. The only thing the same about her was her long silver hair, though it had a lovely sheen to it.

“Faith,” Tharne said, staring at her in disbelief, then went to her.

The feared Warlord of Drogath, the man who had faced armies without hesitation, stopped before her as though afraid the slightest movement would make her disappear. Then he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight.

Her arms held him just as tightly, not wanting to let go. “I feared you had died and would never return to us.”

“Never. Never would I abandon you and our daughter,” he said and kissed her.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Dravic demanded, though he had a thought.

Tharne stepped back but kept one arm around Faith and looked to Adria. His expression held regret, wonder, and pain that came from all the years he had lost.

“I am the man in the tale… your father, and Faith is your mother.”

Adira looked from one to the other.

“Explain to her, Dravic,” Tharne ordered.