Ceren tried not to choke on the sip of wine she’d just taken. “Yes, perhaps I have.”
Everyone knew Lord Teslar—one of the top generals in the army, and the High Lord of the House of Teslar. She racked her brain trying to remember how many children he had and if she’d ever heard of Quinlen before. Was he the oldest? He couldn’t be that old if he’d only been fighting on the front lines for five years—
A door at the end of the dining hall suddenly flew open, and two Light Sentries entered, dragging another Draíolon behind them. There was a collective gasp around the table, and a few of those gathered jumped to their feet. Ceren immediately looked to Evelayn, who watched while keeping her face an emotionless mask.
“What is the meaning of this?” The queen pushed back her chair and stood up. The other Light Sentries who had been hovering in the background rushed forward, but Evelayn lifted a hand and they paused before getting too close.
The Draíolon they brought in had skin the color of snow with a silvery sheen to it, and pale blue hair. His eyes, when he looked up at Evelayn, were completely white except for his dark pupils. Ceren’s hands turned to ice when she caught his scent—he smelled of winter, of blizzards. He was a Dark Draíolon from Dorjhalon.
“He claims to bring a warning,” one of the Light Sentries sneered, yanking the male’s arm back even harder. The Dark Draíolon flinched but didn’t fight back. “He wants us to believe he’s here to help.”
Fear pumped through Ceren’s veins as she glanced between the captive Draíolon and Evelayn. Silence as heavy as the moment between a lightning strike and the subsequent roar of thunder hung over the room as the queen’s eyes narrowed, and then she slowly moved toward the Dark Draíolon.
Her guards closed in, following right behind her. They halted when she paused only a few feet away from the two Light Sentries and the supposed informant from Dorjhalon.
Palpable tension radiated off Quinlen, who was one of the Draíolon who had jumped to his feet at the intrusion. He obviously didn’t trust the man, and Ceren couldn’t help but wonder if it was some sort of trap. Get away from him, she thought, wishing she dared speak out loud.
Queen Evelayn stared down at the Dark Draíolon for a long time while everyone waited in tense anticipation. The male held her gaze silently. Finally, she nodded.
“I will hear what he has to say.”
She brushed past them and swept out of the room as the Light Sentries scrambled to turn and drag the Dark Draíolon out the door, following their queen, leaving the rest of the room in stunned silence.
At first no one moved, and then Lord Tanvir shoved his chair away from the table and rushed after her. Ceren wished to do the same, but fear planted her feet to the ground. What if it was some sort of trap?
“One Dark Draíolon won’t be able to do anything to her, especially here. She’ll be fine.” Quinlen touched her elbow hesitantly, disconcerting Ceren with his ease in reading her emotions.
“I hope you’re right,” Ceren finally responded, staring at the door with her heart in her throat.
The door to the throne room was already shut when Tanvir sprinted around the corner, moving so fast the castle became a blur. He didn’t care if she was mad at him, he had to be in that room with her—he didn’t dare leave Evelayn alone with a Dark Draíolon. Two Light Sentries guarded the entrance, but he didn’t even pause to acknowledge them before throwing open the door and rushing into the throne room. Let them try and stop him, if they wanted to. The new queen needed him by her side.
When he burst into the room, all eyes turned to him. Evelayn’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but other than that she showed no sign of surprise at his entrance. She sat stiffly on her throne as the Light Sentries forced the Dark Draíolon to his knees on the ground in front of her. They had him bound with cords of light, even though he’d shown no signs of struggle nor attempted to escape.
Good, Tanvir thought as he strode to the front of the room, stopping at the bottom of the dais where the throne sat. Queen Evelayn’s council was gathering along the other side of the room in their customary seats. A few of them didn’t bother hiding their irritation at his arrival.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion, my lord?” Queen Evelayn’s violet eyes met his, and for a moment that existed only in the space between one breath and the next, everything else faded away and there was only her and the sudden spike in his pulse. But then he blinked and clarity returned.
“I wish to claim a position on the council, to be by your side, to offer my aid in any way possible, my queen.”
She studied him for a moment. He’d heard that a monarch’s direct connection to the magic gave him or her the ability to extend their senses out through that line of power to their subjects—in essence, to feel what their subjects were feeling. It had been less than a week … he hoped she was still too inexperienced to be able to control her power that way. It was enough that she could probably scent him and ascertain some of what he was feeling. He didn’t want her to realize how quickly his heart was beating or sense the emotions he was working to suppress. At least, not right now.
Finally, she nodded. “As you are now the High Lord of the Delsachts, your request is granted. You may stay.”
There was a murmur from the right side of the room, where the council members were all now seated. Tanvir exhaled and flashed her a quick, grateful smile. She didn’t return it, but he noticed the fingers of her right hand curl around the diaphanous material of the skirt of her dress. Perhaps there was hope that she would forgive him after all. She had continued to avoid him as much as possible after completing the ceremony to reclaim their power. He’d tried to do as Ceren suggested and give her time and space. However, when she couldn’t avoid him, she’d ignored him instead, hiding behind her cool, reserved demeanor, leaving him uncertain and wondering if he’d destroyed any hopes of ever getting close to her again.
But she’d let him stay. That had to mean something.
Queen Evelayn finally stood, suddenly looking far older than her eighteen years, and stared down at the Dark Draíolon, her gaze imperious. A thrill of apprehension ran through Tanvir’s veins. Though she’d been successful at completing the ceremony to retake control of the Light Power, this was the first time he’d felt that power surround her in such a tangible way. Even her scent had changed subtly—there was now an underlying hint of something sharp beneath the usual violet and sunshine that was so intoxicating, almost like the acrid smell of lightning. She was young, it was true, but she was magnificent. A hard knot tightened Tanvir’s stomach as he thought about what the future might hold for her.
Don’t think about that, he told himself. Dwelling on fear never led to anything good, as well he knew. His whole life had been composed of different levels of fear. He’d been raised during war, had lost both of his parents to that war, and most recently, his sister had become its victim. He’d made terrible decisions because of fear, as had many others.
“What is your name?” Evelayn spoke, jarring Tanvir from his morbid thoughts and drawing his attention back to the Dark Draíolon.
“Caedmon, Your Majesty,” the man responded immediately.
“And what message do you have for me, Caedmon, that is worth risking your life to come in our midst to deliver? Choose your words wisely, for they may well be your last.”
The Light Sentries tightened the cords around him at her words, but she lifted her hand to stop them.
“Let him speak.”
Tanvir watched Caedmon silently, waiting with everyone else.
“Your Majesty, I don’t come to deliver a message, but a warning. I’m tired of this war. Our people are tired of it. We wish for the same thing as you—for peace. You are young, Queen Evelayn, but I am not. Though it was a decade ago, I remember peace. I remember the time when our two kingdoms lived in harmony—in balance.”
Tanvir glanced between Caedmon and Evelayn. The queen’s eyes were narrowed, though her expression remained impassive as she l
istened.
“Our world is suffering because that balance has been upset. And the longer this war continues, the worse it gets. If King Bain succeeds in killing you and trying to take your power for himself, I fear the results would cause irreparable harm to Lachalonia. And many others agree with me. This island has existed since before recorded time, Light and Dark working together to create the harmony that breeds life of all kinds. That balance of Light and Dark affects not only our world, but the world beyond ours as well, outside of Lachalonia.”
“I know all of this,” Queen Evelayn interrupted. “State your purpose in coming before I tire of your presumption that I am not only young—as you so blithely pointed out—but also naïve and uninformed.”
“Many apologies, Your Majesty.” Caedmon bent his head in supplication. “That was not my intent at all. I merely wished for you to understand my views so you will believe my purpose in coming. I wish to tell you of King Bain’s plans so that you might be prepared for the trap he intends to lay for you, and help you beat him at his own game. I wish to help you defeat my king.”
CAEDMON’S WORDS HUNG IN THE STUNNED SILENCE that followed his declaration. Evelayn’s breath caught somewhere between her heart and her throat, right beneath the conduit stone that warmed her skin day and night since she’d completed the ceremony. Did she dare believe that he was telling the truth? She knew she had to tread lightly and be very, very careful. But she couldn’t keep the tiny seed of hope from burgeoning out of the dazed stupor of grief she’d been caught in for the last few days.
“How are we to know that you aren’t here to lead us into the very trap you claim to be informing us of?” she finally asked, keeping her voice cold, refusing to allow even a hint of softness into her expression—not yet. “Your claim is interesting, I grant you that. But I find it hard to believe that after a decade, your desire for peace is suddenly strong enough to seek me out, when you never attempted to do so with the former queen.”
Caedmon looked up at her again, and she could see no guile in his strange white eyes. She scented no dishonesty, though she wasn’t entirely sure yet what it would even smell like. But there was nothing besides the frosty scent of ice and the bitterness of sorrow.
He met her gaze squarely when he responded. “I was not yet in a position to be privy to his most secret plans until recently, and there was never an opportunity like this where I believed it possible. King Bain has been very careful to always protect himself to the utmost. Though he judged your mother to be weaker than the former queen—which is why he started this war—he knew Ilaria was still a powerful queen in her own right, that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him to stop the war.
“But he thinks you to be the very things you accused me of believing—though I am not fool enough to actually believe it. Especially after you completed the ceremony. Something he didn’t think you capable of, by the by.” The Dark Draíolon smiled at her in an almost fatherly kind of way. As if he was proud of her.
“What is your point?” Evelayn cut in icily, refusing to let him soften her with compliments.
Caedmon’s expression turned grim. “You ruined his plans by reclaiming your power. But because he believes you to be too young and naïve to rule effectively, he thinks that this is still his chance to press his advantage and plan a different attack while you are weak with grief and your magic isn’t under complete control.”
“I’m listening,” Evelayn allowed, gesturing for him to continue. She glanced briefly at Tanvir to see him watching her closely. His amber eyes were too distracting, and she quickly looked back at Caedmon. She couldn’t risk allowing herself to lose focus and miss any hint of deception on the Dark Draíolon’s part. If he were her subject—and if she’d already mastered the ability, which would take years according to High Priestess Teca and General Kelwyn—she could have stretched out her awareness to try to ascertain his emotional and physical state. But he wasn’t her subject, and she had no access to the power he wielded, and therefore no access to him.
She had to rely completely upon her own senses and feelings, and hope they didn’t lead her astray.
“He is planning on sending the majority of his army to march on the city of Ristra, coming from the northwest, to draw out your army. He is bringing almost all of his priests to create a concentrated attack that will bring down the wards in that one location. He knows that your generals will encourage you to stay as far back from the front line of fighting as possible, especially because you are young and your mother was just killed. That is how he has fought this war, hiding behind thousands of Dark Draíolon, surrounded by his most powerful priests and warriors.”
Evelayn barely kept herself from nodding. She knew this from the lessons she’d had with High Priestess Teca and Kel, and from talking with her mother. It was why her parents had never been able to reach him, or any of his family. When any of the Dorjhalon royals joined the fight at the front lines, all four of them—King Bain, Queen Abarrane, and the two princes, Lorcan and Lothar—were constantly protected by concentric rings of Dark Draíolon, each ring growing smaller the closer one got to the royal family, but also more powerful, until the closest ring of all, made up entirely of the High Priests of Dorjhalon.
Queen Ilaria hadn’t wanted to risk her priestesses’ lives the way Bain did his priests’. She’d insisted that all those not at the front lines holding up the wards stay at the palace, to train the growing generation and to protect her people there from attack.
That tactic had ended with both Evelayn’s father and now her mother being killed by Bain. Perhaps Bain was the wiser one, after all.
“He is planning on setting up a decoy. He’ll keep the formation the same as always, but rather than staying in the security of the rings of protection that he’s formed—and that your army will expect to see—he will take a small group with him and come from behind. He plans to ambush and kill you.”
“How exactly does he plan on coming from behind?”
Caedmon looked slightly confused. “Through the Undead Forest.”
Evelayn remained motionless, swallowing the incredulous laughter that threatened to burst out. “The Undead Forest,” she finally repeated. “I see.”
Caedmon’s eyebrows were still drawn down as if her reaction was … unexpected. Which was confusing to her. To hide her uncertainty, she quickly continued, “This supposed plan is completely unlike him—it holds far too much risk. He defeated my mother without putting himself in so much jeopardy, why try this now on me?”
Something flickered across Caedmon’s face—but it wasn’t confusion, or even guilt or fear. It was sadness … it was pity.
“My dear Queen Evelayn, did no one tell you how your mother was killed?”
Something simultaneously bitterly cold and scalding hot flashed through Evelayn’s body. “What do you mean?” Her voice was as frigid and hard as the mountains of ice said to be at the northernmost reaches of the world, far beyond the shores of Lachalonia. “What is he talking about?” She looked up to her council, seated to her right, including High Priestess Teca and Kel, listening to the entire proceedings.
“Your Majesty, I don’t believe now is the best ti—”
“If there is anything that has been kept from me that holds any bearing on what this male is telling me,” Evelayn cut the High Priestess off, “then it is imperative that you tell me immediately. Punishments for withholding vital information from the ruling queen of Éadrolan will be decided later.” Evelayn had to consciously keep her hands from forming fists at her sides, she was so furious.
Teca inclined her head. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” She flicked her hand at a Draíolon sitting two seats down from her—General Olena, the head general of all Éadrolan’s armies. Olena stood, her jaw tight. Olena was nearly three hundred, and was showing her age, with streaks of white standing out against the dark plum of the severe braid she wore down her back and the first signs of lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her mahogany skin hid any hint of
a flush if she was blushing at all, but Evelayn didn’t miss the meaningful glance between her and Kel before she faced the queen fully.
“We intended to tell you very soon, Your Majesty, after you had some time to mourn—”
Evelayn lifted her hand, and Olena immediately fell quiet. “Just tell me.” She allowed a hint of the fury she felt to seep into her voice, just as she’d seen her mother do many times when she was displeased.
“It was a trap, my queen.” When Olena spoke again, her voice was much quieter, almost ashamed. “He purposely allowed our army to break through his front lines, to kill many of his Draíolon, to make us think we were finally gaining the upper hand. He played it just right—the way they fought back let us think we could win as we came into the height of our power, as summer solstice draws near. They even began to retreat. It was a huge risk on his part; his army is greatly weakened because he allowed so many to die for his farce. Queen Ilaria didn’t want to miss the chance to press our advantage and ordered us to push forward.
“And then he used Lorcan as a decoy. The prince led a battalion against us, drawing the queen into a fight, distracting her. Our scouts had repeatedly informed us that the ring was still in place, protecting King Bain—or so we thought. Your mother knew she could defeat Lorcan. She thought to hold him captive and force Bain to agree to end the war in return for his son and heir.”
The general paused for a moment, as if she didn’t want to continue. Evelayn hardly dared breathe as she pictured her mother falling perfectly into his trap—riding forward to her death rather than the victory she thought was within her grasp.
“But King Bain wasn’t with his priests,” High Priestess Teca prompted quietly.
“No. He sent Lothar with another force to distract me and my battalion. Then Bain attacked Queen Ilaria from behind while she fought with Lorcan. He took her completely unaware. She never even had a chance to defend herself. In ten years he’d never left the protection of his priests before. None of us expected it.”
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