Kingdom of Fire and Fae, page 3
Draven’s mind raced, the possibilities and risks flickering through his thoughts like a whirlwind. The revelation settled heavily on his shoulders. “Where is it?”
The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on Varkir’s face, highlighting the uncertainty etched into his features, the play of light and dark emphasizing the somber reality of their conversation.
“It’s not in this realm. But I’ve asked my people to bring it to me,” Varkir replied, his voice steady but laced with the tension of the unknown.
“Thank you.” Draven raised his glass to his friend, the liquid inside catching the light and shimmering like molten gold. He downed the drink in one smooth motion, the fiery liquid burning a path down his throat and lighting a fire in his stomach. The sensation was a strong juxtaposition to the cold dread that had filled his chest moments before. The warmth spread through him, igniting a resolve that had been smoldering within.
Hope—no matter how tenuous—was a beacon he couldn’t afford to ignore.
CHAPTER FOUR
Magical Breech
LANAE AND JENNA HEADED toward the mess hall to grab a bite before they went to their respective stations throughout the city. The midday sun cast long shadows, and the air was infused with the aroma of grilled meats and fresh bread wafting from the army kitchen. Their footsteps echoed in the cobblestone streets, accompanied by the distant clamor of the bustling city.
A lone elite guard approached them, his armor gleaming in the sunlight with every powerful stride. His gaze locked onto Lanae, a penetrating look that made her skin prickle. His physique came close to that of Draven’s: wide shoulders, a broad chest, arms built to break, and powerful legs that seemed capable of snapping necks if he so chose. His crop of golden hair glistened like a halo, but his eyes were as dark and foreboding as Xoltan Firetwill’s.
“Mmm.” Jenna licked her lips audibly as she scanned the elite guard. The sound broke the silence like a whip crack, making Lanae’s heart jump.
“Lanae Nightshade?” His deep voice rumbled as he stopped before them.
“Aww, you always get the sexy ones,” Jenna muttered, her voice laced with amusement.
Lanae threw her a look, annoyance flickering in her eyes, and then nodded at the guard. She thought she knew all the guards, elite or otherwise, in Solstice City, but she had never laid eyes on this one before. There was something unsettlingly familiar about him, yet alien at the same time.
“Granger Spiritwalker.” He moved his hand in a crisp salute, the motion sharp and practiced. “You are needed in the situation room.”
Lanae returned the salute, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before.”
“I’ve been traveling the realms for some time on council business,” he replied, his gaze shifting to take in the city around them, “and came back to Solstice City recently.” He glanced around at the city with a strange mixture of nostalgia and wariness. “It has changed a great deal since the last time I graced these streets.”
“When was the last time you were here?” Jenna asked, still standing by Lanae’s side, her tone curious but cautious.
His brow furrowed, and a shadow crossed his face. “It’s been eleven or twelve years.”
“So, before the peace talks fell through.” Lanae’s intuition prickled as he nodded. There was a heavy silence, broken only by the distant cries of hawkers in the market and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. “What type of business does the council have in other realms?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Collecting allies.”
“And the realm you were in was not impacted by the near merge three years ago?” Lanae pressed. She had seen the damage that caused to the fae realm and that of the seer, and couldn’t imagine what other realms looked like after they stopped the destruction.
He let out a laugh, the sound harsh and grating. “That’s when I attempted to get back to Solstice City, but that proved difficult and communications between realms were nearly destroyed.”
“Oh.” His answer appeased some of the anxiety making her skin itch, but it didn’t completely dispel the unease. “Well, shall we?” She waved for him to lead the way. “See you in a bit,” she said to Jenna.
Jenna gave her a wink and walked away. “Have fun!” she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing through the narrow streets.
I doubt the council situation room will be anything close to fun. Lanae’s thought bounced into her mind, and then she focused on the presence next to her. His footsteps fell in rhythm with hers.
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I heard you were the one who ended the siege.”
“I was there.” She didn’t want the credit for overcoming that evil. Draven had insisted to the council that Lanae be awarded the accolades and not him. He wanted to remain in the shadows because of the danger of the Dragon’s Heart.
“Your humbleness is unexpected.” He raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. “Taking down a tyrant is something to brag fiercely about.” A smile toyed on his lips, but there was an edge to it.
“Yes, well, all the death and destruction that Firetwill caused...” She stopped speaking and shook her head, the memories weighing heavily on her mind. “It’s not something I enjoy reliving,” she finally said.
“I guess you never get over taking a life, even if it is in the midst of war.”
“Exactly.”
Once they were out of view from the guards, Granger led her onto a side street that headed toward the Citadel. The narrow alley was shrouded in shadows, and the distant murmur of the city seemed to fade away. Before they stepped onto the main thoroughfare, Granger grabbed Lanae’s arm, his grip firm and unyielding, and tossed a vial on the street before them. A sharp, hissing sound filled the air, and a portal opened, sucking them through the ether.
DRAVEN RETURNED TO THE house to find Nero in the backyard with a small deer carcass. The coppery tang of blood mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest surrounding them. Nero glanced up when Draven cracked the back door to check on him, the sound of the creaking hinges cutting through the quiet afternoon.
“Nice catch,” Draven said, his voice strained but attempting to sound casual. He was glad Nero wouldn’t be eating them out of their meat supply for a day or two. The glimpse of the fresh kill was a grim indicator of the harsh reality they lived in.
He inspected their food supply, the cool air from the storage pantry hitting his face as he opened the door. Pulling out ingredients for dinner, his mind raced with all that Varkir had told him. A weight settled on his chest, heavy and suffocating at the thought of never being able to shift into his full dragon form again. The kitchen seemed too small. The walls closed in on him as the enormity of the situation sank in.
Caelum strolled in as Draven set the roast he was making in the oven. “Lanae’s not here?” He looked around, his voice a sudden intrusion in the tense atmosphere. “Huh.” He closed his eyes, and a crease of concentration appeared, deepening with each passing second. The silence was thick, punctuated only by the crackling fire in the hearth.
When Caelum’s eyes opened, Draven’s heart fell with a bang into his stomach. “What?” Dread coiled around his insides.
“It’s like she’s not here. I can’t reach her.” Caelum’s voice was tight with worry, his normally calm demeanor cracking.
If Lanae was shutting her brother out, that meant she was in trouble. Draven shut off the oven with a sharp click and grabbed his sword, the cold weight of the weapon grounding him. He cracked the back door and stared at Nero, who was still working on his meal. “Lanae’s missing.”
Nero dropped the meat immediately and took to the skies, his powerful wings beating against the air with urgency. Draven closed the back door, the finality of the sound echoing in the empty kitchen, and stalked to the front of the house where Caelum waited at the open front door, tension radiating from him in waves.
“Last I saw her, she was on the sparring field with Jenna.” Draven crossed the threshold, with Caelum by his side. He closed the door behind them, locking the house up tight as if to keep the looming dread at bay.
“I think Jenna might be at Mystic Spirits with a few of the guards,” Caelum said, his voice tight, the concern mirrored in Draven’s own heart. The tension between them was deep, a silent agreement that finding Lanae was their top priority.
They headed toward the bar, each step filled with mounting anxiety. The streets were alive with the sounds of the city winding down for the evening, but Draven’s mind was consumed with thoughts of Lanae. Caelum’s inability to reach his sister tied knots in Draven’s stomach. Every instinct in Draven screamed at him to find Lanae, to protect her from whatever shadows lurked in the corners of their world.
Mystic Spirits was hopping with guards and fae looking for a refreshment at the end of a busy workday. The raucous laughter and clinking of glasses filled the air, creating a marked disparity to the unease gnawing at Draven’s insides.
Draven scanned the bar, his eyes darting from table to table until his gaze landed on Jenna sitting with a half dozen other guards. The candlelight played across their features, shadows darting and shifting, yet there was no mistaking Jenna. She was laughing at something one of the guards had said, her smile bright and carefree.
“Jenna!” Draven called out, his voice cutting through the din of the bar. The conversation at their table halted, and Jenna’s head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto Draven’s.
Draven and Caelum made their way over to the table, the urgency in their stride unmistakable. “Jenna, we need to talk,” Draven said, his tone leaving no room for an argument.
Jenna’s smile faded as she took in their serious expressions. “What’s going on?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice.
“Lanae’s missing,” Caelum said bluntly, his eyes scanning the room as if hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister.
Jenna’s eyes widened, and she stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “She was with me on the sparring field earlier, but then she got called away by an elite guard.” Her voice was tinged with worry.
Draven’s jaw tightened. “We need to find her now.”
Jenna’s brows furrowed. “The guard’s name was Granger Spiritwalker. He said she was needed in the situation room. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.”
Caelum’s eyes narrowed. “Spiritwalker... I don’t like the sound of this. We need to check the situation room.”
Jenna nodded, determination replacing the worry in her eyes. “Let me know if she isn’t there.” She reached out and squeezed Caelum’s hand.
Caelum nodded. “I will.”
As they left Mystic Spirits, Draven’s heart spurred into a gallop, and he prayed they would find Lanae safe and unharmed.
THE MOMENT THEIR FEET hit the ground, Lanae’s heart rampaged in a feral beat in her chest as she struggled to reach her sword. Granger’s grip was like iron, and he easily stripped the steel from her grasp. With a forceful shove, he sent her stumbling backward. Her foot caught on a bump in the floor, and she crashed to the ground, the cold, hard surface jarring her bones. Bars slammed shut with a deafening clang, caging her in a cell.
“What the hell?” she spat, scrambling to her feet. She launched herself at the cell door, her fingers clawing through the opening between the bars. An icy fear scraped across her skin, sending a jagged tremor down her spine.
Granger’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm against the bars. His feral smile sent a chill of fear through her. Pain seared through her skin where her skin touched the cage, and the acrid stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils. Her skin sizzled, and she yanked back, cradling her arm to her abdomen. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in her surroundings. The room was hauntingly familiar, the unanimated forms frozen in time around her like macabre statues. Every breath was laden with the stink of decay, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead.
“A fitting iron prison for a murderess,” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
Lanae’s chest throbbed violently, each beat echoing in her ears like a war drum.
Granger walked around the cage as he inspected his palm with a casual indifference that sent a rake of shivers crawling down her spine.
“I must be going, but when I return, your punishment will begin,” he continued, his voice a chilling promise. “Before the war is through, you’ll be begging me for death.”
His cold, piercing eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, it appeared he could see straight into her soul. The air around her grew colder, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill.
As Granger walked away, his footsteps echoed in the silent room, each step punctuating her impending doom. She was left alone with the fae statues, their lifeless eyes staring at her, their expressions frozen in time. The oppressive air swirled, steeped in the scent of decay and fear. Lanae’s breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing as she tried to escape this nightmare.
CAELUM LED THE WAY to the Citadel, the air thick with tension. As they ventured closer to the situation chamber, the cold, stone walls seemed to close in on them, amplifying their footsteps. The guards in front of the door straightened, their eyes narrowing in suspicion as they pinned Caelum and his companions with a look that usually would have had him turning around and avoiding the confrontation. But this was his sister’s well-being, and he needed to know whether she was in that room or not.
The sharp bite of metal armor and the musty odor of the ancient building filled his nostrils, and Draven’s anxiety rolled off him in waves, sparking his own unease into a frenzy. The cold air bit at his skin, and his breath came in short, sharp bursts. Nero stalked next to them, his movements predatory, as if hunting for his next meal. The silence was deafening.
“Have you seen my sister?” Caelum asked with desperation.
The guards glanced at each other, their expressions unreadable. “Our shift just started a half hour ago, and no one has come in or out of the room,” one of them replied, his voice flat and emotionless.
“We were told Granger Spiritwalker escorted her here earlier today,” Caelum insisted, his throat tightening with fear.
Their eyes blinked in unison. “Granger never showed up for his shift,” the guard on the right mumbled.
Caelum’s throat tightened further, a lump forming as panic threatened to overwhelm him. “Can we please see if she is in there?” he pleaded, his voice trembling.
The guards hesitated, their eyes darting back and forth.
The air grew colder as the situation pressed down on Caelum’s shoulders. The shadows in the hallway seemed to stretch and lengthen, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made it difficult to breathe. His heart worked itself up, each beat echoing in his ears as he waited for their response. The world around him seemed to fade away, leaving the unbearable tension and the desperate need to find his sister.
Draven’s growl rumbled through the air, a guttural sound that made the hairs on the guards’ arms stand on end. The metallic rasp of swords being drawn echoed in the corridor, but it was Nero who snapped first. With a flash of electrifying blue, he surged forward, his lightning crackling and causing the guards to dive aside, their faces contorting in fear. The scent of ozone and burned hair drifted in the air as Nero reared up, his talons gleaming menacingly. When he slammed his front talons into the door, the wood splintered and the hinges screamed in protest before the door flew open, crashing into the wall with a thunderous boom.
Inside the room, conversations ceased mid-sentence, and every head swiveled toward the source of the commotion. Faide’s eyes narrowed as he straightened, his fingers twitching toward his own sword. He glared at the massive griffin and Draven standing defiantly in the doorway. The room’s occupants were a sea of wide eyes and slack jaws, and Caelum’s heart thrummed wildly as he scanned the crowd, frantically looking for Lanae. His breath hitched when he couldn’t spot her.
“Where is my wife!” Draven’s snarl was more than a question—it was a promise of chaos. His eyes darted around the room, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a spring ready to unleash fury.
Caelum’s heart when haywire. He knew Draven’s secret nuptials had been a bombshell waiting to drop. Lanae had kept it from the council and the guard, not wanting to rock the boat. The council’s disapproval was the least of their worries now.
“What did you say?” Faide’s voice was a low, dangerous growl as he stepped closer, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger.
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. A door at the back of the room creaked open, and all eyes snapped to it. Lanae stepped out, and her eyebrows rose at the collective attention. Before Draven could utter a word, Faide’s fury was directed at her.
“You married him without the council’s blessing?” Faide’s voice was sharp, his finger jabbing at Draven as if his very presence was an affront.
Lanae’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise. She blinked rapidly, like a deer caught in the headlights, before she gathered herself and squared her shoulders. She might have been startled, but Lanae was not one to be easily cowed.
Caelum reached out to Lanae telepathically, desperate to connect, but found only silence. His heart flailed. She had blocked him, just as she did on the battlefield. His mind flashed to another setting where she kept him out: the bedroom. He could still remember the mortifying moment he had heard her moan in his mind—he had practically begged her to block him then. The battlefield he could handle. But her intimate moments? No, thank you.
The room buzzed with nervous energy, the silence heavy with unspoken threats and simmering anger. This was far from over.
