Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
WOODLOCK CASTLE
Two weeks later
A fternoon light saturated the tumbled landscape, the twisted orchards, overgrown gardens, and unplowed fields. Things grew where they shouldn’t, died where they should prosper. Nature itself was at odds with its surroundings.
Katarra watched a shepherd herd three sheep across the valley below, picking through a field more rock than grass. They were the first sign of life she had seen since she had arrived.
The inside of Woodlock castle didn’t look much better. Paint hadn’t seen a wall in probably a century, the drapes were moth eaten and mottled with age, and all the furniture should be burned. Several windows were broken, allowing the elements in to do their worst. Every door creaked, and there was a constant chill that even the great hearths might not be able to conquer.
“It just needs some love,” Oakley said, with a nod.
“It needs a blowtorch,” Katarra groused. The child tilted her head. “Dragon fire,” she amended.
Oakley smiled brightly. Not at the notion of burning Gideon’s former residence to the ground, but of the mythical beasts she had fallen in love with over the past two weeks. Another reason Katarra would accept the gift to take over this decrepit castle without complaint; to get away from her relatives soaring over the skies of Hornhall.
Thankfully, her brothers and their armies would be leaving tomorrow. After the solstice celebration tonight. She’d told them everything she knew regarding Dagan. Which wasn’t much. Yes, he was Xavier’s father. Yes, he and Gideon had been the two dragons that attacked Anu all those years ago, using mimic-magic. No, she hadn’t known it was them at the time.
The last admission was met with skepticism. Katarra could understand. Even she was disappointed in herself for not being in on that grand deception.
If Dagan ever did get released from whatever dungeon they were transporting him to, she would be curious what other secrets he had kept over the decades. But that was neither here, nor there. All Katarra wanted right now was to be by herself.
Woodlock castle, at the furthest northern part of Ventus, would provide that. It had been the reward for her assistance in closing the rift. It also placed her far away from civilized society. Something she knew Ash had insisted upon.
It was not the throne of Gerra, but it would do. For now. Katarra put a hand to her stomach.
Oakley noted the placement. “You’re going to be a good mother.”
“Are you basing that on how well you think my last child turned out?”
The girl stared at her belly. “Do you want to know the gender?”
“No.”
“It already has one,” Oakley stated. “It’s not like I’d being revealing a prophecy.”
“I want to be surprised.”
Oakley stuck out her tongue. Katarra chuckled. Between Archer, Ulrich, and the arrival of the sorceress, Selene, they had figured it out–what the child was. Which explained a lot. How the girl had known about the rebel attack on Hornhall before it occurred. How she had recognized the scions of each god. Her confessions to Bastian back at the Temple when she’d felt something was not right in the realm. How she’d known her sister had no powers.
Oakley was an oracle.
Or rather, an oracle in training. Apparently, they didn’t reach their full powers until they were around a century old. Plenty of time to learn how to keep her mouth shut. Something Oakley severely struggled with.
“Can I at least tell you what its greatest strength is?” Oakley asked.
“I’m supposed to tell you no,” Katarra said mindfully. They were not to encourage future-forecast tattling. She studied the girl–huge citrine-colored eyes looking up at her exactly like Legion did when Katarra had food in her hand. “Fine.”
Oakley squealed and hopped up and down. Legion squawked and flapped over from the dusty chaise lounge he’d been deconstructing. “You have to promise me something first,” Oakley said.
Katarra narrowed her eyes. “You know that’s not how permission works, right?”
“Permission is just evolving negotiations.” The little girl walked over and smiled up at her. “You taught me that.”
She arched a brow. “Did I?”
Oakley nodded again and reached her hand out, placing it on Katarra’s stomach. “I only want to be the baby’s best friend.”
“I have no power over who the child will like best, Oakley.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “But you have influence.” A sly smile. “Influence the baby to love me.”
She laughed. “That shouldn’t be hard.”
Oakley blinked away sudden welling tears. “You really mean it?”
She smiled down at her. “Listen, kid, I only like two people. You’re one of them.” She tousled the child’s head of thick curls. “Tell me what magic this brat will have.”
Oakley beamed with barely controlled excitement. “The baby will grow into a dragon.”
Katarra startled. Was it even possible? The gene would have to come from her mother. Her mind reeled backward over bloodlines and centuries. It hadn’t skipped a generation before. Could it?
“You need to tell Archer,” Oakley said.
She knew the child didn’t mean telling Archer about the dragon aspect. Katarra hadn’t yet told him she was pregnant. She hadn’t told him anything. Least of all that he was her mate.
Some deeply rooted hesitation kept her avoiding his relentless questions. Questions she couldn’t answer. Questions about them. She sidestepped the conversations he started, stating she didn’t want to ruin the moment. Too much was still up in the air.
And it was.
But the truth was she didn’t trust herself not to fuck everything up. Especially now that he’d gotten everything he had ever wanted. Everything he had worked for. Everything he deserved.
Being her mate was the last thing he needed now that the Queen of Arrowren had elevated him to Commander of the entire realm. Accepting the title, Archer’s newly acquired wolf pack had become hers. Theirs . As the last of the Astamere line, the pack’s loyalty went to the queen first, then Archer, and then his nephew.
But Sage was already proving a just and steadfast ruler. And Archer relished his new role. He had sent the wolf pack to Windsong, to work under Glenton’s command there. They would serve their queen under the governance of Princess Mekale.
The Queen’s Knights would remain in Hornhall. The Warborn would rotate throughout Ventus and oversee the protection of the realm as a whole. But the Arrows would always be the elite cadre’s home.
The queen and the Chosen One had set up residence at Hornhall until the renovations at Arrowren could be completed. Eirik had gone with the spunky princess, unwilling to leave her side.
Katarra smiled as she recalled how love-struck the auburn-headed LaGoryen was with his mate. She wondered when he would realize it. That he, too, had found his other half in this realm. Same as his brother.
Same as Katarra…
She looked out the window. To the courtyard below. To the silver-haired male who had stolen her heart.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Archer looked up from where he knelt sifting soil through his fingers beside Stefen. He smiled; Katarra smiled back.
“I’m going to ask Uncle Stefen to take me on a flight,” Oakley declared, already halfway down the stairs in the hall, Legion shooting fireballs at cobwebs from her shoulder.
Katarra again laughed. The sound was coming more often these past couple of weeks, stemming from a place of true joy. A place of strange contentment.
It had to be the pregnancy. It was making her want to nest, or some other fucked up maternal bullshit.
In the courtyard, Oakley tackled the Fallen, the wyvern hopping onto his head.
Archer stood, laughing with the bunch, then he canted his head to the window.
Katarra waved him up. It was time. Time to tell him he was going to be a father. Time to tell him yes, she would stay here in Ventus. With him.
For as long as her cat-like soul could abide. It might not be everything he wanted. But it was everything she had to give.