Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
An Uncertain Path
A Night of Their Own
Nearly five days had passed since they left Thorskaill, and Dravic’s patience was wearing thin.
He had expected the journey to the High Council to take several days. Driochmor was unfamiliar territory, its paths winding through dense forests and around rocky hills that made travel slower. The injuries suffered in the attack had slowed them further, and Dravic had allowed for that.
What he had not allowed for was the growing suspicion that they should have reached their destination by now.
He shifted his gaze to Ernach riding several lengths ahead.
Adira stirred against him and Dravic glanced down. She had spent each of the last four days riding in his arms and each of the last four nights sleeping apart from him.
He was in a foul mood because of it.
Adira tilted her face to look at him, her brow raised slightly in question.
“Do not look at me that way.”
She smiled.
His hand slightly squeezed at the side of her waist. “You know perfectly well I’m annoyed.”
Her smile grew.
Dravic frowned at her. “And apparently you find that amusing.”
Adira turned her face away before her pleasure betrayed her. She had discovered much about Dravic these last few days simply by listening to him. He muttered when annoyed. Not loudly and rarely enough for anyone else to take notice, but with her tucked against him for hours at a time, she heard it.
She had also discovered that the king possessed an impressive collection of curses. Several had required no explanation.
A laugh threatened, and she pressed her lips together.
Dravic looked down at her suspiciously.
She rested her hand against his chest and kept her smile soft.
“I miss us,” he whispered. “Our time alone, holding you in my arms, touching you, discovering you, sleeping beside you. I cherish those moments and crave more of them.”
At that moment, Adira was relieved she could not speak or what she felt for him would have spilled easily from her lips. She was, however, grateful she could hear his words, for they filled her heart with so much joy she feared it would explode.
“I will not lose you, Adira. I will let no one take you from me. No one.” Dravic tucked her firmer against him as if he feared she would somehow be swept away from him.
Adira heard his determination, felt it in him. Yet once again she thought of the consequences of becoming intimate with the king. Most thought her ignorant because she could not hear or speak, but watching people had taught her more than she could have possibly hoped to learn.
Her fate was sealed. He could never marry her. So, what of a future?
The only future she had was to be a kept woman and it broke her heart to think of such a meaningless life with him. She would watch as another woman sat by his side, slept at his side, and bore his bairns. Her heart broke even more and, without thought, her hand slipped off his chest.
Dravic felt the change in her and he lifted her chin and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”
She thought quickly. She pretended to yawn, then pointed to the road ahead.
He nodded, understanding. “You grow tired of the journey. So do I.” He released her chin and called out, “Ernach.”
The man slowed his horse and waited for the king to draw alongside him.
“How much farther?” Dravic demanded, not hiding his ire.
“A day. Perhaps two.”
Dravic’s annoyance grew with his raised voice. “Yesterday you told me two days.”
“The route Merek suggested is longer than I expected.”
“Merek again.”
Ernach shrugged. “He knows this part of Driochmor. I know only the entrance area, not the deeper Driochmor. I must rely on his knowledge to get us there.”
Dravic glanced around them. The forest had grown denser as the day progressed, the path narrowing until his warriors were forced to ride no more than two abreast in places.
“He gave you the safest route?”
“So, he said, though I’m afraid not the fastest.”
“Could we have taken a wrong turn?” Dravic asked, worried that his trust had been misplaced.
Merek had been vocal enough about not being pleased with the monarch. Could he have purposely sent them in the wrong direction?
Ernach shook his head. “I do not think he would be so foolish. Patience, my king, we will reach our destination soon enough.”
“We had better reach the High Council by tomorrow or someone will feel my wrath.”
“As you say, my king,” Ernach said, and urged his horse forward.
Dravic watched him go, his annoyance remaining.
He should have had directions given to Seger as well instead of relying on only one man, but Ernach had at least some knowledge of Driochmor whereas no one else with them did.
Though there was Fiora, but could he trust a fairy?
Ernach had cautioned them on more than one occasion about plants or trees they should avoid.
He had proven his worth and he had knowledge of Dravic’s family that he craved.
That did not mean he couldn’t get annoyed at the delay and more so at not having private time with Adira.
They rode for another several hours before the forest began to thin. The path widened and smoke could be seen rising beyond the trees.
Ernach slowed and waited for Dravic.
“A village lies ahead. We can spend the night there and leave at first light.”
“What village?”
“I believe Merek called it Dunvar.”
Dravic looked toward the smoke curling above the distant rooftops. “And how far from the High Council?”
“Close enough that your impatience may finally be satisfied tomorrow.”
“My impatience will be satisfied when I actually stand before the High Council.”
Ernach bobbed his head and rode off.
Something else had begun troubling him as well.
The symbols.
He had first noticed them shortly after Seger had mentioned them to him.
He spotted one carved into the trunk of a tree alongside the path.
He might have dismissed the single marking if he had not recognized it as one of the Morvane symbols the High Council had sent him a message about and requested Wynn’s return to help understand why the symbols were being seen outside Morvane borders. He had spotted several more since then.
Today they appeared with increasing frequency. Some were carved deeply into trees while others were etched into stones along the path, worn enough to suggest they had been there for years. Yet the ones the High Council had discovered were fresh markings, so what did it mean that these were older?
Dravic had asked Ernach about them earlier that morning, but the man claimed to know nothing beyond the possibility that they marked clan territory.
Whose territory was the question.
Dravic spotted another as they rode, this one cut into the broad trunk of an ancient tree.
Adira shifted suddenly in his arms.
He glanced down and saw her staring at it. Was it familiar to her?
Her gaze lingered on the symbol before she looked at him, giving no indication that she recognized anything.
Dravic studied her for a moment. Something about it had caught her attention, though apparently she knew no more about the marking than he did.
His gaze returned to the path. The symbols had been occasional. Today they seemed to be everywhere. Wynn had mentioned the Morvane Clan lived in the deepest, darkest part of Driochmor. This area did not fit such a description, but what was it his grandda had taught him?
Magic is trickery, never forget that.
Were they being tricked? He would tell Seger to take precautions.
They reached Dunvar as daylight began to fade.
Dravic had grown accustomed to expecting the unexpected from villages in Driochmor, but there appeared to be nothing unusual about this one.
Modest cottages lined a broad central path.
The scent of roasted meat filled the air.
Children hurried out of the cold at their mothers’ calls, and men finishing their day’s work paused to watch the approaching troop.
No strange lights floated above the paths. No vines flourished impossibly beneath snow. Nothing emerged from beneath tree roots to take an immediate liking to Adira.
It looked like any small village he might have passed elsewhere in Scotara. Dravic wasn’t sure whether that reassured him or bothered him.
An older man approached as they entered, introducing himself as Bram, headman of the village. If the unexpected arrival of the king unsettled him, he hid it well.
“You and your men are welcome here, King Dravic.”
“We need shelter for one night. We leave at first light.”
“It will be provided,” Bram assured him, his gaze briefly going to Adira before returning to Dravic. “We have a cottage where you and your woman can stay.”
Adira felt his body shift, and she understood his concern now that she could hear what had been said. He wondered how Bram knew Adira was his woman. And with the irritated glare he sent Bram, she was sure the man would hurry to correct himself.
“Word travels quickly in Driochmor, my king.”
Dravic did not hide his annoyance. “So, I’ve been told.”
The man’s smile was cautious. “The cottage is small but warm, and you’ll have privacy.”
Privacy.
That single word improved Dravic’s opinion of Dunvar considerably.
“Follow me,” Bram said. “Someone will see to your horse once we reach the cottage.”
He looked down at Adira.
For the first time in four nights, there would be no warriors sleeping within a few feet of them, no campfire surrounded by men, and no damned fairy warning him about who might see what.
She recognized the look in his eyes. He wanted to kiss her, and she let him see that she felt the same.
“Tonight,” he whispered, his warm breath grazing the tip of her ear. “You are mine.”
Dravic felt a shiver of anticipation rush through her, and he decided Dunvar might not be such a bad place after all.
The cottage was small but comfortable, with a fire already burning in the hearth and a narrow bed tucked against one wall. A table stood nearby with a platter of meat, cheese, and bread, along with a pitcher of cider and two cups.