Chapter Seventy-Six
KAEL
I don’t finish up in Council Hollow until the early hours of the morning.
I told the council everything about the visions at The Grove—everything about Elyssara.
The council had their hesitations about Elyssara initially, but now they understand—we need her.
We need her to defeat Maldrak, to bring down The Decay, to remove Thalmyr as a threat, to have any chance of rescuing Nalya.
She knows more than we could ever discover on our own. But more than that, I need her.
Every logical voice in my head knows that I shouldn’t be feeling whatever I’m feeling for her.
In another reality, we’d be sitting on opposing thrones, negotiating peace treaties from across the continent, bartering trade prices via messengers.
We were never meant to be together. Never meant to feel this pull.
Fuck, the Stars know it. I know it. But I’m a selfish bastard. I’ve lost the people I love the most, and I won’t lose her. Not a fucking chance.
I leave Council Hollow and head straight for my room where Elyssara rests.
I knock softly on the door, peeking my head into the room, not expecting to see Merrik with his sword drawn and aimed at my throat.
“It’s just me, you old bastard,” I chide playfully.
“Well, you’d have my balls in a vice if I didn’t protect the lass with my fuckin’ life, wouldn’t ya?” He counters mockingly.
I huff a laugh. “I would,” I concede. “How is she?”
Rubi stands up from Elyssara’s bedside, a belt filled with herbs and tinctures hanging from her waist, face serious for once. “Physically, she’s fine,” she states simply. “But it’s her mind and her heart that may take more mending.”
I nod. I’d already assumed that.
“I’ve given her some willowbalm to help her sleep, and tended to her cuts and scratches,” Rubi says in a hushed voice. “She’s resilient,” she says softly, pausing. “Almost too resilient.”
I know. She’s learned to brace for the fall before it comes.
“She’s been through a lot,” I say, voice low.
“She was calling out for her mother,” Rubi adds. “What do you know of her?”
I exhale heavily, gesturing to Merrik and Rubi to move away from the bed. “I’ve already told the council, so I may as well tell you both now, too. She’s the Dravari heir. Her mother was killed by Thalmyr,” I say clearly and concisely.
Rubi sucks in a sharp breath, clapping her hands over her mouth to cover her gasp.
“Fuck,” Merrik grits out, placing his hands on his hips in astonishment.
“She’s also soul-bound to the dragons, and the last one’s soul is preserved in a vessel in a lost kingdom,” I let the weight of my words hang between us.
I know how ridiculous this sounds. I know how far off-track we’ve gone, but I can’t help but feel that this is precisely where I’m meant to be, anyway.
“I need a fucking drink,” Rubi groans, rubbing her temples.
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” Merrik says. “Lad, I know how you feel about her, but isn’t this getting...,” he weighs his words, carefully selecting them, “you know, a bit beyond any semblance of a plan?”
“She is the plan,” I say tightly. “Merrik, I won’t lose her. I will not let anyone hurt her. I won’t use her.”
He shakes his head as if he’s about to dissuade me, “Look, I like the girl, and I know you have feelings for her—”
I cut him off, “It’s more than that. We’re tethered somehow. I can’t explain it, but it’s... like she’s part of me.”
Merrik looks exasperated, but I know he has a big heart. My father trusted him. Confided in him. He groans, internally warring with himself.
“Merrik, I need you to come with us to find the vessel. Most of the council are coming, aside from Eldric, Varian, Lady Sylvaine—we’ll need your guidance and intel,” I say. “And I need you to look out for Jax.”
“Ugh,” he grumbles, hesitating, and scrubbing a hand over his beard. He pauses for a long moment, “You know I’ll go wherever you tell me, ya little brat.”
A laugh escapes me, and I slap him on the shoulder. “You, too, Rubes. We need a healer among us, especially with how Elyssara is.”
Rubi has practically lived in the infirmary in Thornewood for years, tending to every ache and pain from children to the elderly.
Seeking pleasures in the wild mushrooms and experimenting with brewing her own liquors.
I knew she’d jump at the chance to come.
“Fuck yes,” she says, pumping her fists in the air.
She needs this—an escape, a purpose, a fight worth joining beyond tonics and healing balms.
“I thought you’d be excited,” I laugh.
“And what are we getting excited about?” a voice croaks from behind us.
Elyssara.
“You’re awake,” I rush over to her, taking a seat on the bed.
Merrik and Rubi slip out of the room, leaving Elyssara and me alone.
“How are you?” I blurt the words out, scanning her body for injury.
“I’m... okay, I think,” she says, closing her eyes, assessing. She winces as she shifts in bed, then masks it with a question “What happened in the meeting? Did Seren have a plan for the next relic?”
What I say next will almost be as much a revelation to her as finding out she’s the Dravari heir.
What I’m about to tell her is about so much more than the return of the dragons or the next key to unbinding her power. This is personal. Familial. Emotional.
“They did good work—we’re leaving to find it at first light, depending on how you recover,” I begin gently.
“I’m ready,” she says sternly, convincing me.
A small smile stretches across my mouth, “I knew you’d say that.” I pause, softening my tone even further, “There were some significant revelations, El.”
“Oh?” She pulls herself up to sit.
“The Flame-heart from the prophecy is the preserved soul of the last dragon who is dormant. Sleeping,” I explain, and she looks at me wide-eyed. “And the dragons are soul-bound to the Dravari bloodline,” I add. “They’re bound to you, El.”
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at the wall like the world has tilted sideways again. And maybe it has.
I reach for her hand, not just to comfort her—to remind her I’m still here.
Her fingers entwine with mine, and her gaze slowly comes back into focus, meeting mine with her realization.
“The dragons are real,” she murmurs, voice almost a whisper.
“They are,” I say softly.
“And they’re... mine?” she asks, eyes wide with wonder.
“As the last living Dravari royal, yes. They’re yours,” I say. “We don’t know how we awaken them from their dormant state, we don’t even know where they are. We just know that somehow, the soul of their leader is preserved in a lost kingdom,” I explain. “And we’re going to find it for you.”
She nods slowly, but I can still see the storm behind her eyes—the weight of what this means sparking like a tempest beneath her skin.
“Then, let’s go find my dragon.”