Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kjeld knew he shouldn’t kiss her.
He knew this whole charade would end in a burst of flames, and it was partially why he refused to be soft and gentle.
He kissed Caelian with a vengeance, his tongue lashing against hers, each taste a reprimand.
Her erratic pulse thundered in his ears, but she was rigid, wired with apprehension.
Mistrust. For so long he sought retribution against her, but every night was sleepless, riddled with images of her, of all the ways he wanted to own her.
Gods, he’d dreamt of her fucking mouth. His teeth caught on her plump bottom lip, tugging until she yelped.
It would be so easy to draw blood, to make her feel even a sliver of the pain he harbored in the impenetrable wall of his chest.
But then she made the sweetest sound, and the moment her body turned pliant in his arms, he ripped himself away.
Kissing her was too slippery a slope, one he couldn’t afford to tread cautiously.
It would lead to darker, more dangerous things.
His desire for her could not be sated, could not be contained.
It was an untamed beast of its own, a damning fixation only made worse by the fae blood coursing through his veins.
Kjeld stilled.
Of course.
His fae blood.
It was the reason he hungered for her, yearned for her.
During those first few months after he turned fae, he thought perhaps the reason behind his bloodlust for her was because he’d longed for her since the beginning.
Yet he barely knew anything about her. And fuck, when she wished for him to be fae, her magic fused to his admiration for her, transforming it into something primitive and predatory.
He hadn’t loved her when they first met, he merely found her attractive.
Pretty, even. She’d done this to him. She’d morphed him into some monster of a being who was barely capable of controlling his desire.
No wonder he could not quit her from his mind.
Her pulse haunted him. Her blood tormented him. Her scent plagued him.
How could he have been so fucking foolish?
So damn blind to what was happening to him?
The reckoning slammed into his subconscious, fueling him with understanding for the first time since he woke after his death.
I wish I never laid eyes on her.
A strangled cry tore from Caelian’s lips, and she pressed her palms firmly to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they were bloodshot and rimmed with tears.
No. He couldn’t fall victim to her cries again. He shook his head, shoving a few loose pieces of hair back from his face. Without a second thought, he lowered her to the ground, shoving himself away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that. Making you kiss me was a mistake.”
“You didn’t make me kiss you.” Caelian lifted her chin, tears sliding down her cheeks, and that swollen bottom lip of hers trembled. She swiped hastily at her fallen tears. “I told you—”
“Enough!” He stalked toward the cold hearth on the other side of the room, stabbing one finger at her.
“This isn’t real. None of this is real. You tricked me with your fae magic, muddled my mind until you occupied every corner of it.
It all makes sense now. Did you think I was too stupid to figure it out?
That I wouldn’t realize you wished for me to fall in love with you? ”
The door of the study groaned open, and Kjeld turned to find the queen standing in the doorway, one prominent brow arched in a severe manner.
“Your Majesty.” He inclined his head, bending into a short bow.
Queen Viktoria smiled, sharp and keen, then clasped her hands before her. “By all means, General. Don’t stop berating your apparent beloved on my account.”
When her golden eyes landed on Caelian, they softened slightly.
She stepped into the room, Elder Lothaire gliding in behind her, and Kjeld instantly went on alert.
Every nerve in his body screamed at him to be aware, to be vigilant.
He reached for Caelian, but she dodged his grasp, avoiding his touch, tripping over the pile of books to get away from him.
Fuck.
“Deepest apologies, Your Majesty.” Caelian’s voice wobbled, and she hiccuped as she dropped into a clumsy curtsy. “I seem to have lost my way to the festival.”
“I’m inclined to agree. Come, darling.” The queen clasped both of Caelian’s hands, helping her step over the books, guiding her toward Lothaire, who stood waiting like a ravenous predator. “Elder Lothaire will be more than happy to escort you to the Evarfest.”
Kjeld’s hands fisted at his sides, his nails biting into the rough skin of his palms.
Part of him wanted to stop Caelian. Part of him wanted to watch her leave.
Lothaire offered his arm to Caelian, and when her delicate hand rested upon his forearm, Kjeld wanted to rage. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and lock her in their room until they left this godsforsaken place.
Inhaling sharply, he shook the traitorous thoughts from his mind.
Fucking fae curse, he thought to himself. This was Brackroth. His home. He belonged here. Caelian did not.
Lothaire’s cold gray eyes slid over Caelian, lingering where her ample breasts and perky nipples were on full display. His mouth curved into a lascivious smile. “I’m at your service, Lady Caelian. Shall you need anything at all this evening, merely say the word, as the pleasure is all mine.”
A blush scalded Caelian’s cheeks as she flushed under his attention. “Thank you, Elder Lothaire.”
She did not look Kjeld’s way again.
“So,” Kjeld drawled, folding his arms over his chest to keep from punching the nearest wall. “I see your guard dog can speak after all.”
Lothaire’s gaze took on a vicious gleam, his free hand curling seamlessly around Caelian’s waist, drawing her into him.
“Yes.” When he spoke, his voice was chilling yet smooth, layered with a heavy Northernlands accent. “And I bite, too.”
He flashed a wicked smile, revealing not ordinary teeth, but elongated pearly fangs.
Kjeld took an immediate step back while Caelian gazed up at Lothaire, mesmerized.
She blinked, the tears on her cheeks drying as she spoke. “You’re a vampire.”
“Those who roam the realms without a soul are not to be trusted.” Kjeld blurted the words out for no other reason than to draw Caelian’s attention away from the dashingly handsome bloodsucker who was looking at her like she was going to be his next meal.
Caelian ignored him and Lothaire didn’t even spare him a glance.
He regarded Caelian with all the intensity of a proper suitor with ill-intentions. “A fae vampire, if you will.”
“Fascinating,” she breathed, leaning into him as he led her toward the door.
“I’d love to tell you about it sometime. It’s a most wondrous story.” Lothaire gave a little backward wave, the silver ring on his finger glinting like hallowed moonlight as he disappeared with Caelian into the hall.
“Well, I’m sure Lord Ariesian Starstorm will be less than pleased once he learns the truth of your treatment regarding his younger sister.
” Queen Viktoria smirked then, her unsettling eyes daring him in a silent battle of wills.
Testing him to see if he’d draw his axe upon her.
“Just as I am truly displeased that you are not in Brackroth on behalf of your queen, but instead because Lord Ariesian wants to know if I pose him any sort of threat.”
Her tone was off-putting. It was too saccharine. Like a days-old syrup. It raised every last one of Kjeld’s alarms. At his back, the sting of Kaldflam’s blade sang. And his fingers twitched.
“No need for heroics, General.” The queen tossed her long plait of black hair over one shoulder, then ran her tongue along her teeth.
“You know, you and Lady Caelian were almost believable. Anyone on the outside would surely have thought they stumbled upon an infatuated couple in the throes of a lover’s caress. But I know better.”
Queen Viktoria may have claimed there was no need for heroics, but Kjeld knew better than to trust a witch at her word. Instead, he would play her game, bide his time, then show his hand.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Majesty.” He roughed his knuckles along his coarse beard, feigning innocence. “Lady Caelian is my betrothed.”
The queen snickered, like she was in on some secret joke. “You really do a valiant job of pretending to be the doting suitor, General Holtstrom. But I am well aware of the reason for your visit.”
She sauntered forward, heaving a disappointed sigh. “Though, I had hoped for better. You see, I know you and Lady Caelian can barely tolerate being in the same room with each other. I know her magic was taken from her as a form of punishment, and that you were made into a fae against your will.”
Damn it.
Apparently Queen Viktoria had the better hand.
“How?” Kjeld found himself croaking the word out, desperate for an answer. “How do you know these things about us? About why we’re here?”
“Oh, it’s quite simple.” Queen Viktoria tucked a loose lock of midnight hair behind her ear. “I meet with Lord Ariesian Starstorm rather frequently.”
“That can’t be true.” Kjeld held his ground. He would have seen her before, at least have met her acquaintance. “Where do you meet with his lordship?”
This time, the queen did not smile. “In his dreams.”
“In his…” Kjeld straightened, taking in the petite queen standing before him. His brows knit together as he puzzled through her words. “Forgive me, did you say in his dreams?”
“You heard correctly, General.”
“So, you…” he prompted, not entirely sure what to ask or why.
“I walk through dreams.” It was a statement of fact. Queen Viktoria drummed the tips of her long, painted nails on the top of the desk. “Do you know what that means?”
“Aye, I’ve got a decent enough idea.”
It was an ancient type of magic he’d heard of through stories and lost lore, of witches whose power stemmed from the world of the in-between.
Some could weave dreams. Some could forge them.
Others could visit them, maybe even change them if they were strong enough.
For the queen to be able to travel astrally to the mind of Ariesian Starstorm while he slept spoke volumes to the magnitude of power she possessed.
He would dare not cross her. And he would warn Ariesian of the same.
Queen Elowyn of Aeramere, however, could fend for herself.
Queen Viktoria moved to the back wall where rainfall splattered against the panes, the sound of it bringing back a faded kind of memory Kjeld had almost forgotten.
It brought him to a time when he would lie on his bed after a long day and even longer night of training the dragon whelps.
He’d stare at the ceiling, letting his muscles relax into the mattress while the rain pelted his window.
It was rhythmic. Soothing. An uneven melody that often brought him comfort.
Now his evenings were strained. Sleepless and fitful.
It never failed that any time he was near sleep, any time his demons settled enough to allow him rest, Caelian’s cries would keep him awake.
Her shattered whispers would steal into his dreams. He no longer could tell the difference between the rain or the sound of her tears.
He should send her back to Aeramere at once.
Be rid of her once and for all.
Drake and Ariesian had been mistaken. It was clear she wasn’t needed here with him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t very well fly back to Aeramere on her own. And he wasn’t about to send her off on a ship, her brother would have his head for such disrespect.
Until they finished this journey, he was stuck with her.
Worse, he’d promised to take her to Wenfyre, a wretched turn of events, but he was a man of his word.
For him, it was decided. The minute they returned to Aeramere, he would drop her off and come back to Brackroth.
The distance would do him good. Her tears, her heartbeat, her scent, her voice—none of it would afflict him anymore.
Not when there was a sea of distance between them, for even fae magic was not so strong.
“General Holtstorm?”
Kjeld straightened to find Queen Viktoria watching him curiously. The rain had stopped. “Apologies, Your Majesty. My mind was elsewhere.”
Her red lips pursed as though she almost pitied him, and she allowed his excuse to slide.
“If you require nothing else?” She looked between him and the door.
Damn it. He had to focus. He was wasting valuable time.
“There is one thing, Your Majesty.” Kjeld reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled slip of paper he’d found in one of the desk drawers. He unfolded it and held it out to her. “What exactly is this?”
Flattening the paper on the desk, he watched as she quickly skimmed it.
Her expression was unreadable when she said, “I feel like it’s fairly self-explanatory.”
Brow furrowing, he snatched it back up in case he had missed something during his earlier examination.
Drawn in ink on worn parchment was a series of eight constellations, and scrawled across the bottom in unfamiliar handwriting were the words “the blood of the crown.” He recognized one of the constellations.
It was a Tree of Life, an exact match for the tattoo marking Caelian’s heart.
Which meant the rest could only belong to the other Starstorm siblings.
“I know these markings are the constellations of the Starstorm family line.” His gaze narrowed when he looked back up at her. “But what does this mean, the blood of the crown?”
Queen Viktoria shrugged, dismissing his question. “Heavy is the head that wears it.”
She headed toward the door and Kjeld refolded the paper, tucking it back into his pocket.
The sooner he and Caelian could leave Brackroth, the better.
But he couldn’t return to Aeramere empty-handed.
He needed information of worth, he needed evidence, and Queen Viktoria’s word was hardly a measure of good faith.
Especially not since she kept company with vampires.
“Are you still planning to attend Evarfest tonight?” the queen asked, pausing on her way out. Though before Kjeld could answer, she continued. “You really ought to consider it. For you won’t find what you’re looking for here.”
Her truth stung like a bitter wind.
Kjeld feared he would never find what he was looking for, as everything he had ever cared about was already lost to him.