Page 22 of Destiny of a King

Dravic let the discussion fade into silence.

His gaze traveled slowly around the chamber.

Every man and woman seated there had spoken honestly.

Yet each had spoken from reports, from messages, and from what others had seen. Very little had come from their own eyes.

He found himself wondering how much of Scotara he truly knew anymore. Not the kingdom spread across parchment, but the kingdom beyond these castle walls.

The people who would soon be asked to fight for their kin… and their king.

The meeting continued for some time after that. Reports were heard, questions answered, decisions made. Some matters were settled. Others were left pending until more information could be gathered. And a few remained unanswered, for they were questions only time itself could answer.

One by one, the members of the King’s Council took their leave until only Tavish remained.

Tavish waited, knowing the king had not lingered without reason.

Dravic remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the great doors that had just closed behind the last council member.

“I once saw Scotara with my own eyes,” he said at last. “Not through reports or through messengers. It would be good to hear what my people say when they do not think their king is listening.”

Tavish looked alarmed. “You do not think to make such a journey now.”

Dravic glared at him. “Do you think me a fool?” He did not give Tavish a chance to answer. “Winter has barely begun yet has made itself known with an early snowfall. More of Warlord Tharne’s spies could already be hidden among us. What greater prize could they hope for than the King of Scotara making himself vulnerable? That would leave Tharne to march on a kingdom left leaderless.”

“When the time is right such a journey can be arranged,” Tavish said, sensing it was important to the king.

“Aye, it could very well prove a necessity,” Dravic said, looking past Tavish, his thoughts suddenly focused elsewhere.

Tavish understood the king’s thoughts. Following a victorious war, it would be necessary for the king to journey through Scotara and see what was left in its wake to the land and to the people.

“Adira is at Feena’s healing cottage. Send a warrior to return her to the castle,” Dravic ordered, and when Tavish looked ready to respond with something other than a simple ‘Aye,’ he warned, “Not another word about Adira. I will do as I please with her.”

“That is what worries me.”

“You worry needlessly and you will mention it no more to me,” Dravic cautioned.

“Aye, my king,” Tavish said with a slight bow of his head before he turned to leave.

“One more thing,” Dravic said, stopping him.

Tavish turned.

“Adira needs warm garments for the winter. See they are made ready for her and a fur-lined cloak as well.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Tavish finally bowed his head. “As you command, my king.”

Tavish shook his head as soon as the door closed behind him. This was not good, not good at all. The sooner he got the king wed, the better.

He marched off, determined to keep an eye on the situation.

The warmth inside the cottage, provided for Feena’s healing work, wrapped itself around Adira the moment she entered.

A kettle simmered gently over the hearth, its fragrant steam carrying the familiar scent of rosemary, mint, and dried chamomile. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling beams, gently swaying whenever a draft slipped beneath the door. Wooden shelves lined the walls, crowded with clay jars, linen-wrapped bundles, and small bottles of scented oils.

Though smaller than the cottage they had once shared, it had quickly become a place of comfort. The king had seen that Feena lacked for nothing she needed to tend the sick, and Adira was grateful for that.