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He’d been looking at me like he wanted to say something since the moment Casimir and I entered the room. Not with hostility, but with the look of someone who had something on his mind. Being the ruler of an entire race of beings, I assumed he often wore such a face.
Draven set his napkin on the table. He glanced at his cousin, who was listening to Lyric complain that he hadn’t invited her to play with the explosives earlier. Though patience hadn’t been my strongpoint the past couple of days, I waited quietly for my mate’s cousin to make his decision.
Casimir’s hand landed atop mine, drawing my attention away from Draven. “Everything okay?”
I nodded assuringly.
“How are you feeling, Raven?” Draven’s baritone voice cut in.
“Much better, thank you. I’m tired after our exertions today, but it’s a good sort of tired, if that makes any sense.”
“Makes total sense,” Lyric replied. “I love getting a nice endorphin rush during a good workout or sparring session. You’re winded and sore and depleted afterwards, but it feels great.”
“Exactly.”
“I miss that feeling,” she whined, rubbing her belly. “I’m not allowed to push myself much. Rightfully so, but I miss the feeling.”
“I’m sure.” I didn’t know what else to say. While I’d never carried young, I understood the frustration of limited mobility.
“And your lifeforce?” Draven further probed. He probably had gotten this information from his healer already, but I appreciated the courtesy.
“Hugo suggested another session or two with Kree would put me back at full power.”
“So just a few more days then.”
“Probably.”
“Then what?”
Casimir’s fingers tightened their hold on mine. “Then she’s healed. Completely.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m asking your mate what she intends to do about the Fae Queen.”
All three heads turned to me. I sat up a little straighter, thinking of how to reply. “If you’re asking if I have a well-thought-out plan, I don’t.”
“None at all?” Lyric cocked her head.
“Nothing specific.”
Draven’s fingertips thrummed on the wood of the table. Again, I felt like I was waiting for him to decide something.
“Would you like help?” he eventually asked.
My head shook. “You’ll start a war.”
His hand lifted airily. “Unimportant. But I see it matters to you. So would you like help with formulating a plan? I do have experience with this sort of thing, as does the rest of the Council.”
“Only a fool would turn you down.”
“You’d be surprised.”
I smiled grimly. “No, the realms are in no short supply of fools. I’d like to not count myself as one. So, yes, your advice would be greatly appreciated. But really, I’m thinking I only need help getting back to the Keep.”
Casimir stiffened beside me.
Draven’s knuckles rapped on the table. “Yesterday you were adamant it was to be you who dealt with Sersha. Tell me, Raven, how do you expect to get close enough to her once you’re at her gate?”
“I’ll issue a formal challenge. I’ll call in a blood-debt.”
