Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Caerith Castle
The Council Chamber
“What is this message from Lord Oaken that cannot wait?”
King Dravic shrugged out of his damp cloak and tossed it to a waiting servant without taking his eyes off the travel-worn messenger.
Snow melted from the man’s boots onto the stone floor of the council chamber. His cloak bore the marks of many days’ hard riding, pine needles still clinging to the heavy wool. He did not bother to look for Adira. She knew enough that she was to remain in the room with him.
And she did. She settled onto the cushioned bench near the hearth after a servant had hastily taken her cloak and gloves from her.
Her gaze moved from the messenger to Tavish, then to the elderly woman standing silently at the far end of the council table, whom she had seen before now, though she truly did not know who she was.
She was tall and slender, her long white braid resting on her chest. Though time marked her face, it did so gently.
She stood with easy confidence that ignored both king and council.
She neither fidgeted nor sought anyone’s approval, waiting with the quiet patience of someone who had lived long enough to know there was little to be gained by rushing.
The messenger, however, was the opposite, switching from foot to foot, wringing his hands without realizing. He was definitely nervous. But she could hardly blame him standing in front of such an intimidating king.
Adira kept watch of the woman, the messenger, and the king. She studied each face carefully, trying to make sense of what had interrupted her time in the forest.
The messenger bowed. “Lord Oaken sends his respect, my king, and bids me to deliver an urgent message.”
“Then out with it,” Dravic ordered.
The messenger bowed respectfully. “Lord Oaken asks that Wynn travel to Driochmor without delay. Morvane symbols have been found carved into trees beyond the lands where the clan was last known to dwell.”
Dravic’s brow furrowed. “Morvane?”
“Aye, my king. Lord Oaken recognized the markings at once. He believes they are no longer keeping to the deepest part of the forest. The symbols have begun to appear farther out, each one more distant than the last. He fears the clan is on the move.”
“I know nothing of this Morvane Clan,” Dravic said, turning to Wynn. “Who are they?”
Wynn was silent for a long moment before answering.
“Long before your grandfather’s reign, the Morvane were among the most gifted clans in Driochmor. Their magic was respected… until they hungered for more.” She paused briefly. “They embraced dark magic.”
Even Tavish shifted uneasily.
Wynn continued. “No one knows exactly what power they sought or what price they paid for it. Only that those who survived withdrew to the deepest reaches of Driochmor where few, if any, dared follow. They have not been seen in at least twenty years. Many believed they had died off, their bloodline finally ended.”
“But Lord Oaken does not believe so?” Tavish asked.
“Nay,” the messenger answered. “He believes these markings prove otherwise.”
Dravic folded his arms across his chest. “If the Morvane have remained hidden all these years, why reveal themselves now?”
Wynn looked directly at him. “A good question that is not easily answered. But one thing is certain. Morvane markings are never carved without purpose.”
“And that purpose?” Dravic asked.
Wynn slowly shook her head. “That is what Lord Oaken hopes I can learn.”
The messenger nodded. “He believes any information on the Morvane has been hidden from him. Every vision he attempts concerning them ends in darkness, as though a veil has been drawn over anything to do with them. He asks that you allow Wynn to touch the markings. If the future cannot be seen… perhaps the past can.”
Wynn lowered her gaze thoughtfully. “Dark magic never truly dies. It waits.” Her eyes lifted to meet Dravic’s. “Something has awakened it.”
Dravic gave a thoughtful nod. “So, Lord Oaken requests that Wynn return to Driochmor.”
“Aye, my king,” the messenger confirmed.
Raised voices suddenly echoed beyond the council chamber door.
It drew Dravic’s attention and annoyance. “Who dares disturb us?”
Tavish listened for a moment. “It sounds as though someone is arguing with the guards.”
“See to it,” Dravic commanded.
Tavish crossed the chamber and opened the heavy door.
Bria stood just beyond it, two guards barring her way while Kaelan shielded her from them.
“Great-grandmother!” Bria called out the moment she saw Wynn. “Are you all right?”
Wynn turned, surprised to hear her worried voice. “I am well, child. Fear not.”
“Let them enter,” Dravic ordered.
At the king’s command, the guards stepped aside at once.
Bria hurried directly to Wynn, Kaelan following at a more measured pace.
Unnoticed by everyone, a tiny golden light slipped through the doorway before the heavy doors closed once again.
“Great-grandmother,” Bria said, taking Wynn’s hands in hers. “When I learned you had been summoned here, I feared…”
“You feared I intended her harm?” Dravic interrupted, his voice sharp.
Bria looked to the king. “I meant no disrespect, my king. I only wished to make certain she was safe.”
Dravic glared at her. “Why would I harm someone who could prove beneficial to my kingdom?”
Bria lowered her head respectfully. “Forgive me, my king. My thoughts ran ahead of reason.”
“As they often do when those we love are involved,” Wynn said gently, resting a reassuring hand over Bria’s.
Bria let out a slow breath before turning her eyes on her great-grandmother. “I feared the worst.”
“There is no need,” Wynn assured her. “Though it appears there soon may be reason enough for all of us to worry.”
Bria’s brow wrinkled.
Wynn briefly explained what the messenger had reported, speaking of the strange symbols appearing beyond the Morvane lands and Lord Oaken’s belief that the clan no longer remained hidden in the deepest reaches of Driochmor.
Bria’s expression grew solemn and she felt a slight catch in her chest, recalling Wynn telling her that a piece of a necklace she’d come by was from the Morvan Clan and it now was with Adira. The piece she had fit into the piece Adira possessed perfectly.
Did she tell the king?
She looked to Wynn and her great-grandmother ever so slightly shook her head. She knew what Bria was thinking, having confided in her, and advised her against saying anything.
Instead, Bria said, “Then I will return to Driochmor with you.”
Kaelan was quick to add, “And I shall see that they arrive safely.”
“Nay,” Dravic snapped.
The single word settled over the chamber like a drawn blade.
Kaelan’s jaw tightened, though he remained silent.
Dravic stepped away from the council table and slowly approached him. “Dar and Elara know Driochmor and Lord Oaken well. They will escort Wynn.” He looked briefly to Bria. “If she wishes to accompany Wynn, she has my leave to do so.” His gaze returned to Kaelan. “You remain in Caerith.”
“Nay.” The refusal came calmly and without hesitation.
Tavish looked from Kaelan to the king. Neither yielded an inch.
“You forget yourself,” Dravic warned.
“I forget nothing.” Kaelan stood as immovable as the mountains of Northland, his homeland. “I came to Caerith to protect my wife. That purpose has not changed.”
“Nor has mine,” Dravic said, sounding like a strong reprimand. “I am king. I decide what best serves this kingdom.”
“And I decide what best serves my wife,” Kaelan countered sharply.
The air in the chamber grew taut.
Bria felt it before anyone else. A faint warmth spread beneath her hand where it rested against Kaelan’s arm. She looked up. A subtle golden glow flickered deep within his eyes.
“Kaelan,” she said softly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.
He did not take his eyes away from Dravic.
“No king’s command,” Kaelan said, his voice low and unwavering, “will separate me from my wife.”
Silence followed.
Even Tavish wisely held his tongue.
From her place near the hearth, Adira watched the exchange with growing concern. She did not know the words being spoken, but she knew anger when she saw it. The rigid set of shoulders, the narrowed eyes, the unspoken challenge between the two men needed no voice.
Hidden atop one of the great ceiling beams, Fiora hugged her knees and grinned.
“This,” she whispered to herself, “ought to be interesting.”
“Watch your words,” Dravic warned, his voice as cold as the winter beyond the castle walls.
Kaelan stood unmoving. “Not when they concern my wife.”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “You forget to whom you speak.”
“Need I remind you,” Kaelan said, his voice remaining calm, “that you are not my king.”
Tavish drew a slow breath. No one spoke to King Dravic that way.
Dravic took one deliberate step toward Kaelan. “Is that a threat?”
“Nay,” Kaelan said without hesitation. “It is simply the truth. My loyalty belongs to Bria. It always will.”
The silence in the chamber grew heavy.
Bria quickly stepped between the two men before either could speak again.
She looked first to Dravic. “My king, is there a reason my husband cannot accompany me?”
Dravic’s gaze settled on her. “You dare question my decision?”
She bowed her head respectfully. “Never. I only wish to see this matter settled…” She hesitated, uncertain what words to choose next.
Wynn stepped forward to stand beside her. “Wisely. Settled wisely.”
Dravic glared at her.
Wynn smiled gently. “Bria asks not to challenge your authority, my king, but to understand it.”
Dravic looked from Wynn to Bria, then finally to Kaelan. “I have other plans for you, Kaelan. We will discuss them another time.”
Then he looked to Bria. “You are his wife. I leave it to your husband to command whether you return to Driochmor or remain with him.”
A quiet laugh escaped Kaelan.
Dravic’s eyes narrowed. “You find something amusing?”
“Only that I would never be so foolish as to command a Wise woman,” Kaelan said, and got a smile from his wife.
“It is already settled,” Dravic said, his voice rising. “I am king, and my word is law throughout the kingdom.”
He pointed toward the messenger. “Dar and Elara will return to Driochmor with Wynn.”
His gaze shifted to Bria. “Bria will do as her husband commands.” Then back to Kaelan. “And you will learn your fate when we speak.”
Dravic pointed to the chamber door. “Now get out… all of you.”
Tavish stepped forward at once and urged them toward the door. “This way.”
Wynn inclined her head to the king and turned for the door. Bria slipped an arm about her great-grandmother’s waist while Kaelan followed close behind, muttering beneath his breath.
Tavish caught only a few words.
“…stubborn king.”
As the last one slowly approached the doorway, Tavish reached for the heavy door, ready to close it.
High in the shadows above the chamber, Fiora was ready to take flight when something had her turning her head and looking toward the hearth.
Adira was looking directly at her, and then she not only smiled, but she also lifted her hand and gave the tiniest wave.
Fiora froze.
Impossible.
She had hidden herself well. No one had looked her way. No human could have seen her from where she hovered in the shadows, and certainly none could have heard the whisper of her wings.
“Hurry,” Tavish ordered, ready to pull the door closed.
Startled from her thoughts, Fiora darted toward the door, but could not resist to glance back one last time.
Adira still watched her. Still smiled.
Confusion stirred in Fiora.
How had the young woman who could not have heard her managed to see her when no one else in the room did?