Chapter 7
Caelan
Sera stroked Caelan’s wild hair, pushing the long curls away from his forehead.
He traced circles on her bare shoulder with his finger, the two of them nestled together in his bed.
His eyes lingered on her form, covered by a light linen sheet that revealed just enough to make him sigh. This might be their last time together.
Even if his betrothal to the princess was only a political gambit, he knew it would be hurtful to both women to continue his relationship with Sera.
If he could even call it a relationship.
The two of them had been friends since childhood, when his father had taken her on as his ward after her parents died.
They’d spent their long days together, irritating their tutors and each mastering their own magic.
To the rest of Veilkeep, Lady Seraphine Greythorn was a talented and terrifying Nimireth. She had the rare ability to isolate a person in their own mind and make them see whatever she wanted. But to Caelan, she was simply Sera.
Shaking his head to himself, he twirled a tendril of her platinum-blond hair, marveling at how the messy-haired, knock-kneed girl who’d once projected the night sky onto the stable ceiling could now bring even the king to his knees.
Caelan trailed his fingertips down her arm absentmindedly. “I’m going to miss this,” he said.
“You know,” she purred, “we don’t have to stop.” She pressed a featherlight kiss to his chest, her gaze darkening as her eyes found his.
He shook his head in dissent. “You know I have no interest in keeping a mistress. It’s not—”
“ ‘Fair to me or to her,’ ” she recited, deepening her voice to mimic his. “You can’t blame me for trying.” She sighed, stretching her arms over her head.
Caelan chuckled. “No, I suppose I can’t.”
I don’t want her to stop trying.
They were each other’s first. Many women had followed her, and she was equally popular with the courtiers, but they always found their way back to each other. She felt like his home.
This will be my home now, he thought, picking at the silver embroidery of the plush comforter.
The first time he had seen the palace, it waited for him like a sleeping beast, with its window eyes and spikelike spires for horns.
It had looked ready to wake and swallow him whole at any moment.
It’s about to. He couldn’t believe that he was going to be married, that he would one day be the king of Serendith.
When his father had come to him with the plan, Caelan had thought it impossible.
The Evensongs and the Stormriders hated each other, and he was actually glad for that historic animosity.
If the Evensongs hadn’t banished his ancestors to the Shadowed Isles, he never would have met Sera.
His great-grandparents had made an alliance with the native Nimireth who’d founded Veilkeep, where the illusionists and, now, many other Moiren lived together and thrived.
Caelan had been grateful—for the most part—to train with some of the most talented elementalists in the world.
The lack of magic in Valoria felt as foreign as the wine.
This new, albeit ill-gotten, alliance had the potential to alter the continent’s destiny, if Caelan proved himself a worthy king.
But he would miss his freedom. Veilkeep.
The sea. He may never see the Celestial Summit, where lightning kissed the mountaintops.
Or the scattered ruins of the druid civilization hidden deep within the Verdant Forest. He longed to spend more winters in the Molten City—Emberreach—forging blades with his friend Rurik.
Being king meant everyone else traveled to you once a year for the council gathering.
This palace would soon become his prison.
Caelan wished, more than anything, that he could run away with Sera and leave the stifling expectations of this life behind, abandon his mission and start a new adventure in one of those mythical places.
He could ready a ship for departure this afternoon; she could pack their belongings for the journey.
He shuddered at the prospect of his father discovering the betrayal. What he would do to Sera . . . and to Elara.
The princess wasn’t what he’d expected. She was brave and headstrong. And an Evensong, he reminded himself. Pretty, but not to be trusted.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Sera whispered, her breath sending goose bumps across his shoulder.
He nodded, unable to lie to her.
“Do you like her?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “She’s . . . interesting. You should’ve seen her try to fight back during the coup. She’s got guts, that’s for sure.”
Elara was bold. And kind. He recalled her fierce protection of the vulnerable servant girl and her genuine concern for the well-being of her guards. He’d had no doubt she would agree to the engagement to protect her family, whose lives now hung in the balance.
“Good,” Sera said. “She’ll need them.”
He nodded again. “Let’s just hope that she’s made of tougher stuff than you and me,” he whispered. “Once my father has an idea in his head, there’s no turning back.”
Many years ago, losing Caelan’s mother had profoundly impacted his father, transforming him into a hardened and uncompromising man.
He possessed an unyielding ambition and a complete disregard for others—his ruthlessness was legendary, and he was impossible to satisfy.
The throne was his goal, and he’d let nothing, and no one, stand in his way.
You have your role to play. Caelan heard his father’s voice in his thoughts. And so he would play his part. They all would.
Sera shivered and sniffled. Caelan wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her hair and inhaling the light heather scent.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right. We’ll make it through this,” he said to reassure her—and himself.
By morning, the palace looked unscathed.
Lord Stormrider’s men had erased all signs of the invasion, clearing Elara’s room and dealing with the torched hay wagons.
Everything had gone according to plan. The fire had served as a helpful distraction for any on-shift servants, while the king’s palace guards had been subdued and now resided in the dungeons.
The news of their engagement swirled around every conversation.
Lord Stormrider had fed the council a tale of the king absconding to the countryside to care for his sick wife and daughter.
Caelan’s agenda for today involved the morning review with the soldiers who’d replaced the king’s guards and meeting with Sera to clean up other loose ends. She waited outside his chambers for him, dressed in a simple purple gown so dark it was almost black, her expression stormy.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Never,” Sera muttered, folding her arms across her chest. “Not for assignments like this.” While she took tremendous pride in her skills as a Nimireth, she rarely used her magic for anything more than party tricks or, as was the case today, tasks given to her by Lord Stormrider.
She would have refused this one given the chance.
“I know,” Caelan said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “But it has to be done.”
A flicker of anguish crossed her face, her upper lip curling back from her white teeth. “I know. I just wish someone else would do it.”
He looked her in the eye, serious now. “You know what the alternative is.”
“Death.” She nodded, sorrow settling over her features.
The pair descended to the dungeon, where the king’s guards and a handful of unfortunate servants were imprisoned. They were all witnesses.
You have two options, Lord Stormrider had told them. You can kill them, or you can conceal their memories. I don’t care which one you choose. Caelan shuddered at the cold brutality of his father’s orders.
Caelan lifted a lantern to light their final descent. Sera slipped on one of the stone steps, sending pebbles clattering down the staircase. The tiny rocks echoed around them, along with Sera’s whispered curses. He gripped her arm to steady her, and she wrapped her fingers around his bicep.
The first set of iron bars loomed before them, the rusty metal groaning under the weight of years.
One of Elara’s guards was inside, his shallow breathing audible in the otherwise quiet space.
Caelan recalled the names the princess had mentioned—it was either Jalin or Kaz. He held the lantern up to his own face.
“Come forward,” he commanded. “We are here to release you, but my friend here has something to give you first.” He tried to keep his tone warm, inviting even. “Are you Jalin? Or Kaz?”
This got the prisoner’s attention, and he shuffled to his feet, almost slipping on the wet floor. The rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water against stone in the back of the cell was maddening. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Caelan held the droplets midair, silencing the water.
“I’m Kaz,” the prisoner breathed. “You’re letting me out?”
Sera nodded. “Yes. The princess is very concerned about you.” Her smile was sharp, a thin line of displeasure.
Caelan grimaced, hoping that she wouldn’t scare the prisoner. He didn’t want this to be any harder than it needed to be. Thankfully, the darkness softened the harshness in her expression. The prisoner warily approached the cell door.
“Give me your hand,” Sera said, extending her own hand, palm up, through the bars.
Caelan tensed, preparing to fight if the prisoner tried anything. But Kaz obeyed her, gingerly placing his filthy hand in hers.
Sera curled her fingers around Kaz’s hand.
With her other hand, she gripped a large amethyst pendant that hung from a silver chain around her neck.
The amulet had been a gift from Lord Stormrider.
It was a relic—an ancient artifact imbued with essence—one that twisted and amplified her natural power so that she could conceal someone’s memories.
She closed her eyes, and a warm light emanated from the stone clutched in her hand. Kaz’s eyes widened, then glowed violet.
Caelan waited in the silence, sweat beading on the back of his neck despite the chill in the air and in his bones.
After a minute, Sera dropped Kaz’s hand, and he slumped forward onto his knees. With her task complete, a familiar wave of exhaustion washed over her, leaving her trembling. Caelan caught her before she fell too. All magic had its limitations, and its price.
“I’m fine,” she hissed, shoving him away.
Caelan looked at the row of cells ahead of them. This is going to be a long day. Her amulet drained her of her energy, but the cruelty of the task itself ate away at her soul.
“Promise me something, Caelan,” Sera said. “When you are king, never ask me to do this again.”