Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
D rake stood in the courtyard of House Celestine where slants of sunlight stretched across gray stone, the golden beams wavering slightly anytime they neared the shadows encompassing him. The entire space seemed illuminated with stardust, though he imagined that had more to do with the glittering specks shimmering in the stone walls and less to do with actual magic. It wasn’t an ideal location for training. He’d done so once before, and Novalise had very nearly taken his Shadowblade to the heart. He’d chosen to meet Kjeld here, away from most of the Starstorm siblings who seemed to be everywhere at once, and out of sight of the matriarch, who was entirely too devious for her own good.
Trysta Starstorm was a force of reckoning, and Drake held no doubts that she was not nearly as benevolent as she let everyone believe.
The sound of boots clicking softly against stone echoed up the tall walls of the courtyard, and Drake turned to find Kjeld striding toward him.
His general looked…ill at ease. Kjeld was disheveled, his gruff appearance a far cry from the polished gentleman of last night. He roughed a hand over his face, trying to mask his bleary eyes. He’d twisted half of his blond hair back away from his face in a haphazard knot and some of the smaller strands were loosely, albeit messily, braided. There was a line of consternation that permanently creased his brow, and his eyes were shifty, as though he was constantly looking over his shoulder. Like he half-expected someone to jump out and attack him at any moment. Kjeld closed the distance between them, straightening his leather vest, and adjusting the folded cuffs of his sleeves.
He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back. “You wished to see me?”
“I did.” Drake eyed him coolly, silently debating whether or not he should question his general and the edge of restless apprehension he balanced upon. “Is something wrong, General?”
Kjeld inhaled deeply and his shoulders dropped, his posture settled into a more relaxed stance. He stood with his legs apart, his hands tucked behind his back, while his alert gaze scanned the courtyard. “Nothing I can’t handle, Your Highness.”
A cool autumn breeze whistled through the courtyard, ruffling the leaves of some of the trees. A single branch bowed, then snapped back into place, and Kjeld nearly jumped out of his skin.
Drake arched a brow.
His general didn’t reach for his sword, nor did he draw his dagger. But Kjeld was startled . It was most unusual, considering he feared practically nothing. Yet something…or someone…had frayed every last one of his nerves.
Drake ran his knuckles along his jaw, amused by the entire ordeal. “You’re certain nothing is wrong, Kjeld? You seem rather anxious.”
“Not anxious, Your Highness.” Kjeld swung around, glancing back behind him. “Just cautious.”
“Hm.” It was also a rare occasion when his general and only confidant was bold enough to lie to him. Apparently, today was one of those days. “Very well, there are a few issues we need to discuss.”
Drake moved about the courtyard, avoiding the bench positioned beneath the tree whose branches looked as though they were weeping. “First, I have spoken to Lord Ariesian on the matter, but my concern for the safety of House Celestine has not eased. It appears as though he did not take Lady Novalise’s star reading seriously. With that being said, upon our return to Brackroth, I will need to prepare a journey to the Fenmire Bogs.”
At the mere mention of the bogs, Kjeld visibly recoiled. He blinked twice, shoving a few loose strands of hair from his face. A new sort of tension rolled off him now, his large frame growing rigid with the strain of hostility.
“The Fenmire Bogs? Where the Runes of Callievan escaped to during King Marius’s years of terror?”
“Correct.”
Years ago, Marius fancied himself in love with Zaleria, a witch of the Runes of Callievan, an ancient coven with a lineage that predated most realms. Every witch alive could trace their bloodlines back to the Runes. Marius, the fool he was, thought he could seduce her and, in doing so, garner the favor of her magical spells and charms. But Zaleria was temperamental and jealous, and she did not care to be tossed to the side when Marius found a new object of his desires. His blatant infidelity left her seething with unfathomable rage, and when she refused to accept his apology, he ordered every last witch of the Runes to be slain. Many were burned at the stake—sometimes Drake could still smell the stench of burnt hair and charred flesh—but others were kept as pets, tortured and abused by Marius’s guards.
Those who could escape his wrath did so by seeking refuge in the bogs.
Drake had no idea how many had survived, but Marius’s revenge was one of many deplorable acts. Proof he could tolerate no one with more power than himself. If it was up to Marius, he would rid Brackroth, and every other realm, of magic for good.
“There is a powerful hag dwelling among the witches.” Drake plucked one of the slender amber leaves from the tree, crumpling it between his fingers. “I need to speak with her.”
Kjeld’s brows pinched together. “A hag and a witch are not the same thing?”
“Shocking, I know. But no, they are not the same. At least, not in Fenmire. The hags are neither good nor evil. They remain neutral in most contests, though their intentions can be swayed if the offer is enticing enough. A bit chaotic, if you will.” He turned to face Kjeld, shifting them further into the shadows to obscure the light and muffle the sounds of their voices. “Witches, on the other hand, are often less fickle in their alignment. In turn, they are much more difficult to influence.”
Kjeld blew out a breath, rocking back on his heels. “I see. So, this hag…”
He lifted one hand, a quiet gesture for more information.
“This particular hag is not only a conduit of the sight, but she also creates an incredibly valuable gemstone called the virdis lepatite .” Drake needed that gem more than he needed air to breathe.
“I recall you mentioning it before.” Kjeld nodded in understanding. Another line formed across his brow, and he scraped his teeth along his bottom lip, where they snagged on the scar marring his mouth. “You witnessed it being used in the Faeven War.”
“I saw the horrors it can bestow upon a realm, yes.” He’d seen it used to control an entire horde of dark fae, watched as those hideous creatures of the night poured out from a void cut from the innermost circles of the Sluagh. Nightmares had been unleashed upon Faeven, and he had never seen anything more appalling in all his years.
Wariness crept into Kjeld’s eyes, their vivid blue frosting over with caution. “And you intend to seek out this gemstone?”
That wasn’t Kjeld’s real question, of course. But Drake understood the underlying suspicion, the careful wording, all the same.
He had no intentions of using the virdis lepatite for his own gain.
“I intend to destroy it. And the hag.” Drake folded his arms across his chest, his gaze flicking to where the blues of the sky were blurring into shades of crimson and gold. “I know the Runes of Callievan will not hand over the stone or the hag unless they are offered a rather significant benefit. Which is why I intend to give them the one thing they crave among all else—Marius’s head on a stake.”
If Kjeld was at all surprised by Drake’s declaration, he concealed it well. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze darted to the stone ground at their feet before finally focusing hard on Drake’s face. “And what of Lady Creslyn?”
“My wife will be traveling with me.”
Kjeld’s mouth fell open, but he recovered quickly and snapped it shut. “Wife?”
He spoke the word as though it was foreign and unfamiliar.
Drake held his composure, keeping his face lacking any expression. His deal with Ariesian was not just parchment, ink, and blood. It was his written word. “That’s the other thing I wanted to discuss.”
Kjeld stared at him.
“I’m marrying Creslyn tonight, at the Moonfall Peaks.” Drake reached out and clamped Kjeld’s shoulder. “I want you to perform the ceremony.”
“And…she’s agreed?”
“She will.” Drake’s hand cut through the air, silencing his general. “I know what you’re going to ask next, and the answer is, I don’t know. I won’t know until her blood mixes with mine.”
Kjeld dipped his head in acknowledgement, the burdening weight of the unknown hanging between them.
An image of Zaleria, the witch who’d left Marius in a state of madness, appeared in Drake’s mind. Her velvety voice flitted through his thoughts, her twisted riddle ever-present yet always just out of reach.
Forced to kill by the hand of a king,
Cursed in this life with a fate unseen.
Bound to wield a blade of shadow,
Break your oath on ground most hallow.
Seek your freedom in the blood of stars,
Sacrifice your heart, your soul, your scars.
Son of rites, son of death,
You are darkness, her final breath.
He’d spent years trying to untangle the web of Zaleria’s words, to make sense of her witchy, muddled divination. There were a few things he knew for certain. Marius was the hand of the king, and it was Drake who had been cursed. His own lust for power had bound him to wield the Shadowblade, and he imagined the oath he must break had something to do with the blood magic tying him to Marius. As far as sacrifices went, he’d surrendered his heart and soul long ago…his scars were another matter entirely. Rites and death meant very little to him, he did not fear his end. But the other pieces of Zaleria’s spoken puzzle were falling into place.
Seek your freedom in the blood of stars.
Creslyn’s blood could be the key to undoing the curse cast upon him. Not once had he come across anyone with celestial magic in their veins until Marius had sent him to Aeramere to learn more about Queen Elowyn. It was then he’d been approached by Lord Asher Firebane—the fire fae had wanted Drake to end his father’s life. And it was then he’d met Lord Ariesian Starstorm, who just so happened to have four eligible sisters, and Drake set his own plan into motion.
Unearth the queen’s secrets.
Form an alliance with Lord Ariesian.
Then wed one of his sisters in a blood rite in order to release himself from the curse. It had taken nearly two years to accomplish, and now he was mere hours away from knowing if binding himself to Creslyn through blood would free him from the monster lurking beneath his skin.
Of course, there was that bothersome last line that disturbed him more than all the rest… you are darkness, her final breath.
He’d refused to read too much into it, knowing there was a chance he would ultimately despise the outcome.
Drake shook away the troubling thought.
“Ready the dragons,” he ordered Kjeld, who still appeared more than a little wary. “We’re taking the ladies on a ride tonight.”
“Ladies?” he choked out, his eyes widening. “As in, more than one?”
“Yes. Lady Creslyn and Lady Caelian. I can’t very well marry Creslyn and not invite her twin sister to the ceremony.” Drake paused, observing the way tiny beads of sweat dampened Kjeld’s brow. The way he scraped his thumbs over his fisted hands in trepidation. “Is there a problem, General Holtstrom?”
“No problem, Your Highness.” Kjeld’s shoulders tensed, and he swept forward in a curt bow. “Just never imagined you’d be so full of fucking surprises.”
Drake chuckled as the realization slowly slipped into place.
Kjeld wasn’t riddled with anxiety or paranoia. He was nervous .
As Kjeld stalked away toward the opposite side of the courtyard that would lead to the gardens, Drake couldn’t help but wonder if Kjeld’s jumpy state had less to do with being in Aeramere and more to do with one Lady Caelian Starstorm.
For as long as Drake had known him, he’d rarely seen Kjeld fall into any kind of romantic relationships. There was the occasional courtesan or barmaid, but Kjeld was far too focused on the dragons and their riders to pay the necessary attention to any woman of interest. Then again, he’d never witnessed his general quite so flustered in the company of a female faerie before. Perhaps he’d taken a liking to her.
Drake spun on his heel to follow in Kjeld’s wake, then stopped in his tracks.
Awareness fired through him, a prickle of warning that caused the hairs along the back of his neck to stand. He turned slowly to find Lord Solarius leaning against the entrance of the courtyard, the silver of his eyes frozen over like the most northern mountains in Brackroth. The star lord was propped against a rich blue pillar, his demeanor casual with his arms crossed and one ankle kicked over the other. But loathing hardened every line on his face, and his magic swam with hostility.
“Marrying my sister tonight, are you?” Lord Solarius asked, his voice seething with indignation.
Drake said nothing.
Lord Solarius shoved off the pillar and strolled toward him. Rage billowed around him in violent waves. “Going to taint her soul that quickly?”
At that quip, Drake’s composure pulled taut. “Her soul is already tainted, you’re just too blind to see it.”
Creslyn’s brother lunged forward, and Drake’s shadows unleashed, a warning to stand down.
“Mind yourself, Lord Solarius.” Drake flicked his wrists, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “I would hate for there to be a funeral right before a wedding.”
The star fae grit his teeth, baring them so the slightly sharp canines were on full display.
“If you hurt her,” he warned, lifting one hand and curling it into a tight fist. “I’ll kill you.”
The corner of Drake’s mouth curved. “I would expect nothing less.”
There was no doubt Lord Solarius would make a most valiant attempt. But he would not survive it.
Lord Solarius left then, muttering a stream of vile curses under his breath, and for a moment longer, Drake remained rooted in place.
Something was off.
He felt…discontent. Bothered. As though he’d misplaced something, yet he couldn’t quite figure out what was annoying him, why he felt lacking. An emptiness had seized him from the inside, like he’d been pierced by the blade of a weapon that was tearing him open. Ripping him so the heated ache spread through his chest.
Drake sucked in a sharp, painful breath as understanding prodded the back of his mind.
Fuck.
He missed her.