Chapter 18 Adele
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ADELE
We decided to take our samples back to Emberforge, where I could analyze them with my more extensive equipment and think about what the problem might be.
King Trevare met us in the courtyard as we were getting ready to depart. The dark circles under his eyes suggested he’d slept as poorly as I had. Three of his advisors stood behind him, their expressions ranging from dubious to openly hostile.
“I’ve sent word to Silvervale,” Trevare said. “They’ll have access to all the same information Queen Adele has collected. Full transparency.”
One of the advisors grumbled. Another scoffed. Trevare shot them a look that could’ve melted stone.
They left, leaving us alone with King Trevare.
“My advisors have concerns,” he said, diplomatic even now. “But I’ve made my decision clear. We’ll cooperate, not escalate.”
“Will they honor that?” Raoul asked quietly.
“They will.” Trevare’s jaw set. “Or they’ll find themselves with significantly less influence in my court.”
The threat hung in the air, and I felt a surge of respect for this young king. He’d been thrust into leadership and was trying to navigate impossible politics while babies suffered.
“Thank you for trusting us and choosing peace,” I said.
Trevare’s expression softened. “Just find the answer, Queen Adele. Quickly.”
He handed me a cloth bag, heavy with food and a flask of drink. “For your journey. I’m sorry if my court made you feel unwelcome. That wasn’t my intention.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I said. “You’re doing exactly what a good king should. Protecting your people while staying open to help.”
Trevare stepped back as Raoul shifted, the transformation now so familiar I could track every stage. The expansion of his frame, the emergence of wings, the gorgeous scales that caught the morning light.
I climbed onto his back, hooking our bags and our food onto one of his spine spikes.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
Raoul launched skyward, his powerful wings beating in the thin mountain air. Below, Goldwing’s golden walls gleamed, growing smaller with each stroke. I looked back once and saw Trevare still standing in the courtyard, watching us go.
That’s a lot of weight on his shoulders, I said.
He’s doing well. Better than I did my first year. Raoul banked, catching a thermal current that lifted us higher. He’s willing to make hard choices even when his advisors push back.
Like letting a witch poke around in his court?
Exactly. Amusement came through in his voice. Though I’d argue you do more than poke. You investigate with extreme thoroughness.
Is that a complaint?
It’s admiration.
Warmth bloomed in my chest, and I leaned forward across his neck, letting the wind tear through my already messy hair. The land spread below us in a patchwork of stone and forest, valleys and peaks, so wild and gloriously beautiful compared to the broad plains where I’d grown up.
We flew for a while, the rhythmic beat of his wings like a heartbeat. I pulled out my notebook, trying to review my notes despite the wind, but the words kept blurring together.
Something nagged at my mind. Not quite a memory, more like the ghost of one. Something I’d read once, somewhere in Emberforge’s archives.
I kept thinking about alpine geography. Or was it atmospheric patterns? The timing of seasonal changes?
I couldn’t grasp it. Every time I reached for the memory, it slipped away.
You’re tense. Raoul said.
I’m trying to remember something. I flipped through my notes again. I read something in the archives at Emberforge. I keep going back to peaks or the geography or… I don’t know. I can’t quite recall what it might be.
Then we’ll return to the archives.
The thought of more delays while babies suffered and tensions escalated made my stomach clench. But what if that half-remembered text held the key?
If you think it’s important, it probably is.
The trust in his voice made my throat tighten. Or I’m just desperate and seeing patterns where none exist.
The sun climbed higher as we flew, and my exhaustion from another night of fitful sleep started catching up with me. I’d managed to stay awake for a bit before giving up and dozing, dreaming of plants and rocks and high elevations.
I woke to him descending toward a broad valley. Sheltered between two smaller peaks, it was hidden from casual view. A series of natural hot springs steamed in the cool air. Smooth stone surrounded the pools, worn by centuries of dragon claws.
We landed on smooth rock still warm from the afternoon sun. I slid off his back, my legs unsteady, and he shifted back to his usual form.
He caught my elbow when I swayed. “Let’s get you fed and rested before you collapse.”
“I’m not going to collapse.”
“Says the woman who can barely stand.” But his tone was gentle, fond even, as he guided me toward the nearest stone shelter.
Inside, someone had created a comfortable resting space. He opened a trunk, tugging out furs he draped across the low bed. A circle of stones marked a fire pit on one side. Raoul had our provisions unpacked in moments, spreading out bread, cheese, and dried fruit.
“Eat,” he said, pressing food into my hands.
I took a bite of bread, chewing slowly. My mind was still spinning through data and theories and that maddeningly elusive memory.
“Adele.” Raoul’s hand covered mine. “Stop thinking for five minutes.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You just won’t.”
I ate because arguing took energy I didn’t have. He fed me bite by bite until our meal was gone and some of the hollow feeling in my belly had eased.
“Better?” he asked.
“Marginally.”
“I’ll take it.” He stood, offering me his hand. “You need to soak in the springs. It’ll help.”
The pools were gorgeous in the fading light.
Steam rose in lazy curls, and the water glowed faintly blue from minerals I’d need about a week and lots of magical power to properly analyze.
The largest pool was broad and deep enough that I couldn’t see the bottom, surrounded by smooth stone that still held the day’s warmth.
Raoul tugged at his tunic laces, shedding clothes with that effortless grace of his, his muscles shifting under golden skin as the fading sun caught every line.
I followed suit, slower, my fingers fumbling from fatigue, until we both stood bare on the warm stone.
The air nipped at me, raising goosebumps, but the promise of the glowing water pulled me forward.
He stepped in first, sinking to his waist with a low sigh that echoed my own longing for relief. “Come in, sweet. It’s perfect.”
I eased in, the heat enveloping my calves, then thighs, chasing away the chill.
Unlike the enclosed caves we’d bathed in before, this pool was open to the sky, vast and unguarded, with no walls to trap the steam.
As I submerged to my shoulders, the water lapped gently, carrying a faint fizz from the minerals, tiny bubbles rising in whispers across my skin.
The surface shimmered under the stars, reflecting pinpricks of light that danced like fireflies in the deepening twilight.
Raoul swam toward me, his movements creating soft ripples that brushed my body.
“No walls here,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Just us and the night.”
I floated against him, weightless, the open air making everything feel exposed yet intimate. A cool breeze skimmed over us, contrasting with the warmth below, and in the distance, a bird hooted. “It’s freeing. Like we’re part of the sky.”
He chuckled, guiding us to a shallower ledge where smooth rocks formed natural seats. “Sit. Let me take care of you.”
I settled on the stone, the water up to my chest, and he knelt in front me.
He reached for a small pouch from the provisions and poured scented oil into his palm.
This wasn’t like the rushed, heated washes in Brightmore’s or Silvervale’s steamy caves.
Here, under the vast canopy of stars, his touches were slow and careful.
He started at my feet, lifting one from the water, massaging oil into the arch with firm thumbs that melted away the ache from days of travel.
“You’re carrying too much,” he said softly, his eyes on mine, the amber glowing in the low light. “Let some of it go for now.”
I leaned back against the pool’s edge, the stone cool on my shoulders while the water bubbled around us. “Easier said than done. But this helps.”
He worked up my calves, knees, and thighs, his hands strong yet gentle, the oil slicking over my skin and making the stars’ reflection blur in the water’s surface.
The breeze carried the scents of pine and earth, mixing with the mineral tang, and I closed my eyes, letting the sensations hold me in place.
No confined steam, no echoing walls; just the open night, his touch, and the soft fizz of bubbles popping around us.
When he reached my shoulders, he turned me, sitting me in front of him. He kneaded my neck and combed through my hair, wetting it fully before working in soap. The stars twinkled above, and for the first time in days, my mind quieted, lulled by the rhythm of his hands and the valley’s hush.
We stayed like that, floating and touching, until the water’s heat had soaked deep into my bones. Raoul finally stood, water streaming down his body, and offered his hand. “Time to get out before you wrinkle.”
I laughed, taking it, but instead of letting me climb out, he scooped me up, lifting me from the pool.
The cool air hit my skin, making me shiver, but his body heat and the dragonfire from my ring chased it away as he carried me to our small shelter.
He set me down on the floor and fetched a soft cloth from the trunk, drying me with careful strokes, starting at my hair before moving down my arms, torso, and legs.
The quiet care in his gaze made my chest ache.
“There,” he said, drying himself quickly before carrying me to the furs that were as soft as clouds.
He followed me down, pulling a light fur over us as we curled together, my head on his chest, our legs tangling.
Cool night nipped at my skin, but his warmth enveloped me, our shared heat building a cocoon.
We lay there, listening to the distant trickle of the springs and the rustle of wind through trees.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I said. “Carry the weight of a kingdom, all those expectations, and still find space to be like this.”
He stroked my back. “I don’t always. Some days it feels like it’ll crush me. But then I remember that people are depending on me.” He paused, his voice dropping. “Now there’s you. You make it lighter.”
I searched his face in the dim light. Shadows played over his features, softening the strong lines. “I’m the one adding complications. A witch queen who’s supposed to solve everything but keeps missing vital clues.”
“You’re the first person who’s made me feel like I don’t have to carry it all alone. Like maybe partnership isn’t just political; it’s real.”
The vulnerability in his voice cracked open my chest. I’d always been the solitary one, buried in books and theories, convinced I had to prove myself. But here, with him, I felt like we were in this together.
“I’ve spent my life chasing answers, thinking if I were smart enough, thorough enough, I could fix anything,” I said. “But this mystery is showing me I can’t do it all alone. And that’s terrifying.”
He pulled me closer, our bodies aligning. “Terrifying, but true. Strength isn’t going off on your own all the time. It’s knowing when to lean on someone else.”
He cupped my face, brushing my cheek with his fingers, and he kissed me slow, deep. Exploring, like he was memorizing every taste. I kissed him back, pouring in the gratitude I couldn’t voice, our mouths moving in a heavy rhythm that built heat without hurry.
His hands roamed, sliding down my sides, and I arched into him, the furs shifting beneath us.
The kiss deepened, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling, until I was lost in sensation.
He rolled us, his weight a welcome press, and trailed kisses down my neck, collarbone, lingering at my breasts with gentle nips and licks that made me gasp.
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered against my skin, his voice rough with emotion rather than command. “Let me help you forget, just for a little while.”
I nodded, words failing, and he moved lower, settling between my thighs.
Unlike that night in the cottage, where passion had been fierce and urgent, this was tender and unhurried, his mouth exploring with soft kisses along my inner thighs, building anticipation.
The stars watched as he finally tasted me, his tongue circling slowly, learning every response.
No rush, no frenzy; just devoted attention, his hands holding my hips steady as pleasure built in waves.
The night breeze cooled my flushed skin, contrasting with the heat of his mouth, and when he added fingers, sliding inside with gentle thrusts, I shattered quietly, my soft cry escaping into the darkness, my magic sparking snowflakes that melted before they hit the floor.
He kissed his way back up, gathering me close, and we lay tangled, our breathing slowing.
I explored him, gliding my fingertips along the lines of his chest, down his abdomen, wrapping my hand around his thick length.
We touched each other with lazy strokes and caresses, my fingers teasing him while his did the same for me, building to another peak for me, his release following with a low groan against my neck.
After, we curled together again with the furs pulled high for warmth, talking quietly.
“I used to think vulnerability was weakness,” he said, his voice rumbling through his chest. “But with you, it feels like strength. Like admitting I need help doesn’t make me less. It makes me more.”
“I’ve always hidden behind logic and facts. But you see through who I truly am.”
We shared our fears and doubts, the parts of ourselves we’d kept guarded. Each word deepened our bond, trust weaving tighter, emotional intimacy blooming like the stars overhead.
Eventually, his breathing evened, his body relaxing fully. He fell asleep in my arms, his head on my shoulder, one arm draped over my hip. I watched him, the starlight softening his features, making him look peaceful and unguarded.
Dangerous thoughts about forever crept in, about how this man had crashed into my life like a storm and rearranged everything in the best way.
This could be real and lasting.
Even as my mind warned caution, my heart whispered about love.
I let myself imagine a future where we faced everything together, not only as allies, but as something more.