Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
There couldn’t be any precautions left, because Kjeld had taken every single one.
Lira knew how to sail and, surprisingly enough, the whelps obeyed her.
He decided a few practice runs would be necessary, so Lira sailed around the bay while the baby dragons joined her on her ship.
He watched from the shore as the sails, touting mossy green and dark pink swirls, whipped in the breeze, as the bow rose and fell with the waves.
Lira guided her ship with precision and care, despite having three baby dragons afoot.
More than anything, Kjeld wanted to make certain they didn’t accidentally set fire to the ship or worse, sink it completely.
With Sylvan’s help, they charted her course. It would take Lira approximately three days to reach Aeramere’s shores, maybe longer since she was on her own.
“It worries me that she intends to sail alone.” Kjeld hefted the final crate of supplies—salted and dried meat for the whelps—and carried it below the main deck.
Lanterns glowed, swinging lightly with the rocking of the waves, illuminating the space in a dim amber glow.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder as he stacked the last crate.
“Who will control the helm while she sleeps? How will she be able to steer and adjust the sails without a proper crew?”
Sylvan’s usually stoic demeanor fractured, and a smile split his face.
“Ah, you are thinking like a general and not a Druid.” He unloaded a barrel of fresh water, setting it next to the others. “The ships you are familiar with require a crew, where every man has a job, where each hour demands something be done. That is not the case with our vessels.”
“What do you mean?” Kjeld followed him above deck.
“Look around.” Sylvan spread his arms wide. “Every part of this boat was crafted in Wenfyre. The hull, the mast, the sails. Even the figurehead. All of it given as gifts from the Myrkwild.”
He ran his hand along the polished wooden railing, where tiny leaves were carved into its surface. “This is not an ordinary ship, it is the product of the world around us, a land imbued with ancient magic.”
Kjeld glanced around him, taking in the proclaimed beauty of the boat, the stunning craftsmanship, the way it smelled strongly of rose and cedarwood—the scent of archaic power.
It lingered with the subtly of a faint aura, humming beneath the wooden planks and whispering through the billowing sails.
Brohm and Pyran were nestled together on the port side, while Lunaris stretched out on the starboard side, basking in the early glow of dawn, her silvery scales twinkling.
If the dragons were at all disturbed by the fact that they were currently aboard a magical vessel, they made no show of it.
“The Myrkwild will guide Lira safely to Aeramere.” Sylvan clapped Kjeld firmly on the shoulder. “She will not be alone.”
“Right.” Kjeld’s gaze was drawn to the sound of laughter, where Caelian, Lira, and Morwyn stood on the dock.
Other than Sylvan, the Druid queen was the only one to come see them off.
Kjeld had been concerned at first, troubled by the fact that maybe he and Caelian weren’t as welcome in Wenfyre as he originally thought.
Maybe they didn’t fit in after all. But then Sylvan explained that was simply the way of things, that many Druids never bade farewell, for fear it was a permanent goodbye.
They would rather each day pass as planned, counting down until they saw their loved ones again.
It was an interesting way to go on about life, but as he watched Morwyn pull Lira into a tight embrace, he wondered if perhaps there was some truth behind it.
An indescribable value. Because while Lira was making promises to return and wiping away a few stray tears, Morwyn looked forlorn yet resigned, as though she knew something the rest of them did not.
Lira stalked up the ramp and boarded the boat, pausing in front of Kjeld.
“Thank you again for letting me join you.” She blew a strand of wild pink hair out of her face, then planted her fist over her heart. “I promise I won’t be any trouble.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Kjeld nodded in a show of respect. “We’ll see you in three days’ time.”
Lira slid past as he stepped onto the dock, waved once more to Caelian, Morwyn, and Sylvan, then set to work in preparation of sailing.
Kjeld tucked his hands behind his back and turned around. Caelian grabbed his arm, and he watched her nose scrunch as she tried to hold back tears.
Sylvan cleared his throat, then placed a fist over his heart and bowed. “Until we meet again.”
“Until then.” Kjeld mimicked the movement with his free hand, and from beside him, Caelian made a garbled choking sound.
“My deepest apologies.” She sniffled, swiping hastily at the tears slipping down her cheeks. “I had hoped to be more composed today.”
“Dry your tears and take heart.” Morwyn cupped Caelian’s cheeks, then bent close, pressing their foreheads together. “This is not goodbye for us.”
Caelian rolled her lips, nodding slowly. “We shall return as soon as we can.”
Morwyn stepped back, a serene smile warming her features. “The Myrkwild waits for both of you.”
“And Lira,” Caelian added on a hiccup. “She shall come back with us.”
Morwyn’s smile faltered. “I fear not. Lira is ready to choose her own destiny, and that path no longer passes through Wenfyre.”
“Oh.” A tiny line crinkled across Caelian’s brow, and Kjeld longed to smooth it away. “But Wenfyre is her home.”
“And Aeramere was yours.” Morwyn gestured in Kjeld’s direction. “Just as Brackroth was his. We are all free to choose where we belong.”
Morwyn was incredibly wise for her age, and her words were often subtle yet powerful. Because she was right. Caelian and Kjeld chose to be together in Wenfyre, in a place that felt like home to both of them. And he had every intention of ensuring they returned.
They bid farewell to Morwyn and Sylvan, knowing they would see them again in time, once all the matters in Aeramere, especially those regarding Queen Elowyn, were settled.
Kjeld kept a firm grip on Caelian’s hand as they walked up the beach to where Odryss patiently waited, linking their fingers as though he could channel his own strength into her.
He knew it would be difficult to go back, and the unknowns waiting for them in Aeramere would be a challenge, but he would not leave her to manage or suffer through any of it alone.
He stole a quick glance at her, noting the way she chewed on her bottom lip, how she toyed with the flowing hem of her sleeve as they walked. Her eyes were clouded with worry, and she looked to the east, where streaks of burnt orange and gold crowned the rising sun.
“What troubles you, dear wife?” he asked as they approached Odryss. The dragon stirred, stretching his long neck, his claws sinking into the sand as he awoke.
Caelian reached up, running her hand along the stormy gray scales of his chest.
“I’m not exactly sure. At least, I don’t know how to describe it.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her heart and rubbed lightly. “It’s as though a strange sense of foreboding has come over me and it will not lift or ease.”
Kjeld checked the satchels Odryss carried, ensuring the buckles were snug. His gaze slid to Caelian, and though her heartbeat was calm and steady, currents of anxiety rippled around her. “Are you nervous for the flight back?”
“No, not at all.” She shook her head, twisting her length of hair into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. “It’s something I can’t name. Or place, for that matter. But it’s eerily similar to dread, though the cause escapes me. I don’t know if I’m forgetting something or—”
“You needn’t worry. Whatever it is, we shall face it together.” He flashed her a wink, then swatted the fully packed satchel. “Though I did remember to pack your shoes, just in case.”
Caelian beamed but her smile did not ease the shadow of worry in her eyes.
Kjeld climbed into the seat on Odryss’s back, then lifted her to join him.
She straddled the seat as well, skirts peeling away to reveal gloriously smooth thighs, a damning contrast to his leather-clad legs.
He had hoped that once Odryss took to the skies, maybe Caelian would settle.
But even with the warmth of the sun at their backs and ribbons of misty clouds floating past them, her body refused to calm.
She fidgeted constantly, adjusting herself on his lap, fiddling with her gauzy sleeves, tapping the smooth horn of the seat with her nails.
After two hours of her restlessness, Kjeld’s eye began to twitch.
Caelian was in desperate need of a distraction, or at least something to deter the chaos of her mind, and he knew exactly what to do.
Shifting the reins to his left hand, Kjeld ran his palm up and down her spine in slow, calming strokes.
She shivered, but a moment later, her body softened slightly, the tension loosening its constraining hold on her.
Folding her arms across the protruding horn, she leaned forward, humming softly to herself.
While she was gradually beginning to relax, Kjeld responded in the opposite manner—the more she arched into his soothing touch, the more his cock began to thicken.
“Mm.” Caelian rolled her head from side to side, rocking her hips against his groin whenever his palm coasted to the small of her back. “That feels nice.”
It hadn’t been his intention to arouse himself, at least not directly, but each time his fingertips massaged the length of her spine, she made a breathy little noise that heated his blood.
He locked his jaw as he worked her shoulders and neck, rubbing out the knots of tension, determined not to let his own growing desire get in the way of comforting his wife.