Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next morning, after ensuring the dragon eggs were snug and warm by the hearth, Kjeld and Caelian joined Morwyn, Lira, and Sylvan for breakfast.
An aged round oak table was filled with platters of hash, spiced meat, honeyed rolls, and fresh fruit.
Other Druids filtered in and out of the elegant hall, collecting their own plates of food before heading off to another area of the Eldergrove to feast. It was a more simplistic way to share a meal and enjoy the company of those around them.
Nothing about it was formal or forced, and Kjeld loaded a plate for himself and one for Caelian, then they followed Morwyn to an outdoor balcony overlooking the Myrkwild.
Morwyn seated herself on one of the cushioned benches, motioning for Caelian to sit beside her. Lira took up the other side, and when Sylan dropped onto one of the overstuffed floor pillows, Kjeld followed suit, sitting near Caelian’s feet.
“We’ll be having a Wildsong Gathering in a few days’ time,” Morwyn announced, taking a sip of juice, her gaze sliding over to Caelian.
“Oh? Well, that sounds lovely.” Caelian plucked a berry into her mouth. “What’s a Wildsong Gathering?”
“It’s a celebration of two souls bound in harmony.
” The corner of Morwyn’s mouth lifted slightly, and a summery breeze drifted through the balcony, so the tops of the surrounding trees swayed in answer.
“An evening of music and merriment, with plenty of food and laughter. Because apparently there was a secret wedding last night.”
This time, she looked pointedly at Kjeld.
Lira laughed and Sylvan offered his congratulations.
“I knew it! I could tell by the look on your face.” Lira reached across Morwyn to squeeze Caelian’s hand. “You’re glowing with the aftermath of lovemaking.”
Kjeld choked on a piece of meat, his gaze darting to Caelian, whose face was nearly as pink as the berries she was eating.
Sylvan clapped him soundly on the back. “It is the way of things in Wenfyre. We do not shy away from talks of intimacy. Or anything, really. For it’s all part of the natural order.”
“Well, that, and the Myrkwild ensures the truth is always spoken,” Lira added with a wink, then grabbed a honeyed roll from her plate. “Whatever you do, Caelian, do not drink the bloomfire wine tomorrow night.”
“Lira,” Morwyn tsked and Sylvan ducked his head, biting back a grin. “Such talk is not appropriate for the fast-breaking hour.”
“No, no.” Caelian leaned forward, concern knitting across her brow. But there was a flash of curiosity in her eyes. “Why not? What’s wrong with bloomfire wine?”
Kjeld has a sneaking suspicion he already knew.
Stealing a glance at her queen, whose face was an expressionless mask, Lira lowered her voice. “Let’s just say bloomfire is a potent love potion.”
Morwyn scoffed, flitting one hand through the air. “It is no such thing. Bloomfire has nothing to do with love, that’s an ancient rumor.”
“Then what is it?” Kjeld asked, ready to determine if his assumption was correct.
“It’s a wine.” Sylvan shrugged, tearing off a piece of spiced beef. “A wine that will fill whoever consumes it with insatiable lust.”
Kjeld leaned against the bench, casually folding his arm around Caelian’s bare calves beneath her skirt.
He had absolutely been correct.
“Oh.” Caelian popped three more berries into her mouth, chewing quickly. “I see.”
“I wouldn’t call it insatiable.” Morwyn patted her knee. “Eventually your needs will be fulfilled.”
Caelian’s legs twitched, and Kjeld covered his laugh with a cough.
“Either way,” she continued flippantly, “avoid the bloomfire wine if you choose, but know that partaking in it will lead to an evening of sensual bliss.”
Kjeld figured it was time to excuse them from breakfast before Caelian’s cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red and she died of mortification on the spot.
He pushed off the floor pillow and offered Caelian his hand. She grasped it without hesitation. “I believe it’s time to check on the dragon eggs, and we still need to write a letter to Ariesian.”
Kjeld inclined his head in a show of respect. “Morwyn, do you by chance have some parchment and ink?”
“Of course.” She pointed back inside the main hollow of the Eldergrove. “There’s an office one floor above your rooms. The door is painted sage, and it’s marked by a crowned eagle with silver eyes. Inside, you’ll find everything you need.”
“Thank you.”
He bowed swiftly, and beside him Caelian dropped into a perfect curtsy.
“Breakfast was wonderful,” she added. “And very enlightening.”
Kjeld guided her toward the main entrance of the Eldergrove, where polished wood gleamed, sheer banners of emerald and gold waved, and stained glass windows reflected a rainbow of light within the hollow.
“So,” Kjeld drawled, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as they ascended the winding staircase toward the fifth level. “What do you say? Should we try this bloomfire wine?”
Caelian laughed, musically and unapologetically. Her sapphire eyes slid over to him, and she leaned in close, like she was conspiring. “I think I might indeed. Though I must be honest. I don’t need a potion or wine to ever be filled with insatiable lust when it comes to you.”
Kjeld loosed a laugh of his own, but his was a poor attempt to disguise his growing erection. Her words were liquid temptation.
“I think this is the correct floor.” Caelian mused, wandering through the arching corridor carved with vines of ivy and flowers. Her hand slid down his arm to link their fingers together.
They walked past a door of misty blue, another of the shade of sunflowers, before stopping in front of a green one. Carved into the painted wood was an eagle with outstretched wings, a crown of laurel upon its head.
“This looks like the one.” Kjeld reached for the bronze handle and pushed it open.
Inside the room, the walls were lined with shelves, each filled with books.
It wasn’t nearly as rundown as the study in Brackroth, in fact, this one looked as though it was used fairly often.
All the bindings of each book were etched and embossed with gold, stacked neatly in some kind of order, with pretty vines unfurling beneath the shelves.
It smelled of old parchment and worn leather, a comforting, welcoming scent.
There was a circular window where golden sunlight spilled through, and shoved into the far corner was a single desk.
Its surface was littered with pots of ink and quills, along with a stack of fresh parchment and hard wax to melt for seals.
Caelian walked into the space, her powdery blue skirts swishing around her ankles, bare feet treading lightly across the hardwood floor. “It looks more like a library than an office.”
Kjeld agreed. “Aye, one that is used fairly often, to be sure.”
She moved toward the shelves, running her fingers along the spines of glossy, archaic books. Bending down, she tried to read a few of the titles, but the markings and letters were illegible. “I think they’re all in Druidic.”
“Druids love knowledge, their existence is steeped in legend and lore.” He inspected the shelves and skimmed the spines. “It’s interesting, though, if these are indeed stories. Most of them are written. Usually they prefer oral.”
Kjeld realized all too late the innuendo of his words.
Caelian coughed lightly, covering a smile, and he felt a rise of heat crawl up his neck.
Roughing a hand over his face to disguise his mortification, he rounded the corner of the desk, examining it carefully.
There were three drawers on both sides, and when he dropped into the chair, it groaned beneath his weight.
Caelian joined him, reaching for the handles of one of the drawers. “Do you think Morwyn would mind terribly if I had a look?”
Kjeld considered her request. The Druid queen hadn’t specifically told them not to touch anything, and she had mentioned they would find everything they need. “I don’t see the harm in it, as long as you’re careful not to disturb anything.”
“Of course,” she huffed. “I’m always careful.”
Caelian knelt on the ground beside him, opening the top drawer first, and Kjeld set to work, penning a letter to Ariesian.
Lord Starstorm,
As requested, Lady Caelian and I traveled to Brackroth and met the witch queen.
I feel I should warn you, while she appears willing to remain at peace with Aeramere, she is the daughter of Zaleria and King Marius Kalstrand, both slain by your sister, Creslyn.
Her name is Viktoria Kalstrand, and she is an incredibly powerful witch.
While I would consider her an ally now, I would still take care, for she is also in allegiance with Elder Lothaire, a fae vampire.
While this was not part of my arrangement with you, Lady Caelian and I have also ventured to Wenfyre. There is much yet to uncover here, but we have cause for concern regarding what happened in the Moonfall Peaks before we left.
Kjeld was careful not to mention Queen Elowyn by name, just in case. He figured caution was of the utmost priority.
If all fares well, we will return to Aeramere at the end of Midsummer, unless there is reason for us to come back sooner.
He dipped the tip of the quill back into the jar of ink when he felt Caelian’s hand upon his leg.
Glancing down, he saw her gazing up at him. “Have you found something?”
“Just some letters.” She rose to her knees, sandwiching herself between the desk and his open thighs. “But there is something I’ve been wanting to try.”
His brows knitted together. “Is that so?”
She nodded quickly, her fingers skating up his thighs. With only the spun cotton of his pants between them, she reached for his cock, squeezing gently.
Kjeld snapped straight, almost spilling the inkpot all over the letter. “Caelian…”
“I want to watch it grow.” She shook her head, smothering a laugh. “I mean harden. I want to see the effect my touch has on you in real time.”