When I wake in the morning, Caelen is still asleep. Quietly, I leave the bed and go into the cleansing room to dress. I’m glad when I find a dress tunic and a pair of leggings and boots already waiting for me.
Because they are meant for a Dwarf woman, they’re a bit large on me, but I do not mind. They’re comfortable and easier to move in than a regular dress.
I notice my blade on a nearby table. The memory of when Caelen first presented it to me flashes through my mind as I tuck it into my belt.
As soon as I’m ready, I tiptoe from the room and out into the hallway. I make my way to Bran’s door and knock lightly.
The door flies inward almost immediately and I’m shocked to see Bran standing before me, his eyes bloodshot and with heavy, dark circles under his lids. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine, Bran. Caelen did not hurt me.”
A rumbling growl rises in his throat as he steps out into the hallway, eyeing the door to my room. “Where is he?”
“Asleep.” I purse my lips. “Are you going to grumble all day, or are you going to come with me?”
His head jerks back. “Where are you going?”
I start down the hallway and call over my shoulder. “To check on Rina.” I swallow back a sob. “She is with child and she recently lost her husband.”
Bran’s large hand on my shoulder stops me abruptly, and I turn to face him. His eyes shine with sadness. He pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, Lyana. Truly. Your father was a good man.”
Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. “Thank you, Bran.”
When we reach Rina’s room, I knock gently on the door, but no one answers. Carefully, I push it open and am surprised to find her bed doesn’t appear to have been slept in. “That’s strange,” I murmur, more to myself than to Bran. “Where could she be?”
“Perhaps she couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs. “She has to be here somewhere though. We’ll find her.”
I nod and we continue on toward the main caverns. Silently, we walk side by side toward the gardens. I’ve always been enchanted by this place. As we step inside, I study the glowing vegetation in wonder.
Mushrooms as tall as a man line the walkways, glowing with a soft blue bioluminescence. A small stream of water flows along the pathway, winding through the gardens. Dwarf children skip along the gravel walks, laughing and chasing each other under the watchful eyes of their parents.
When we reach the large fountain near the center, a memory of my father standing before it returns. He was as enchanted with this place as I was.
The painful image of his body, dead and bleeding on the floor resurfaces, springing tears to my eyes. Clenching my jaw, I push them down and curl my hands into fists at my side as I think on Prince Fredrik. “I’m going to kill him, Bran.”
“Caelen?” he asks. “Good. I’ll help.”
Surprised by his answer, I whip my head toward him, and a smile tugs at my mouth. He’s always done this, ever since we were children. Always trying to lighten my sadness with his joking. “Not Caelen. Fredrik,” I correct.
“I agree. We’ll kill him too. Right after Caelen,” he adds with a teasing smirk.
I roll my eyes. “Will you please be serious for a moment?”
“I am,” he says innocently, an amused glint in his eye. “Why do you believe otherwise?”
“Oh, Bran, stop it,” I gently chastise. “Caelen’s not the villain you think he is.”
“Aye. I’ll have to admit there may be some truth to that.”
“Oh?” I ask, his answer surprising me. “Why the change of heart?”
His gaze slides to mine, all traces of his teasing now gone. “He gave you his blood to heal you.”
A hazy memory floats to the surface of my mind of Caelen biting into his wrist and forcing his blood to my mouth when I was injured. “I… remember that now.”
“It is never done for Outsiders. Ever,” he adds for emphasis. “Not that I’ve heard of anyway. Or, at least, not for a number of years.”
A frisson of fear travels down my spine. “Why not?”
“It’s like giving you a piece of himself, Lyana.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I saw what he was doing when I came upon you. When I told the Healer, she was shocked. She said the High Elves used to do this for their human brides. It would extend their lives to match that of their own, and grant them similar healing abilities like the Elves as well.”
I stare at him in astonishment. “You mean… I’ll live as long as a High Elf now?”
“As long as any Otherworldly creature, in fact,” he replies. “Dwarves included.”
I’m completely stunned by this information. Caelen said nothing of this. “Why would he do this?”
Bran shakes his head. “That, I do not know.”
High Elves and Otherworldly beings have long lives. Much longer than that of any human. Caelen did not have to do this. He could have easily let me die from my injury.
“It’s the only thing that stayed my axe when I came upon you that night,” Bran says, pulling me back from my thoughts. “When I first saw you in his arms, lying so still, I thought—” His voice catches. “I thought the worst.”
“So… you trust him then?” I ask, uncertain.
“Hmmph,” he grumbles. “He’s a High Elf. They do nothing save that which will benefit them.” He turns to me and changes the subject. “Come on. Let’s go practice,” he says with a lopsided grin. “We’ll see if your aim has improved any since our last lesson.”
“I do not have time to practice, Bran. I need to start formulating a plan to retake the throne.”
“My people will help,” he says. “But we’ll need reinforcements from the Dwarves of the Ferylan Mountains to aid us. Father has already sent word to them. It will take at least a few days to hear back. In the meantime,”—he motions for me to follow him—’we’ll practice your skills with the bow and arrow.”
As I follow him out of the gardens, my thoughts return to my new husband. At first, I was afraid of marrying a former enemy. But after the time I’ve spent with him, and what Bran just told me, I am beginning to believe most of what I heard about his people may have been entirely wrong.
