When I awaken, Lyana is no longer in bed next to me. I sit up and draw in a deep breath. Her scent still lingers here, telling me she left not long ago.
I go to dress and wrinkle my nose in disgust at the Dwarvish attire that has been laid out for me. Not only is the coarse fiber rough against my skin, but it smells so much of Dwarf, I cannot imagine having to wear this for longer than a few hours.
The simple earthen gray and brown tones of the tunic, pants and boots are so dull it is no wonder Dwarves are always in a foul mood. Dressing themselves in such plain and muted colors must take an effect upon one’s soul.
I step out into the hallway and follow Lyana’s scent through the labyrinth of corridors. I reach a set of golden doors with the etched symbols of an axe, a bow and arrow, and a sword. I push them open and am surprised to find a training area of some sort with weapons lined up along the far wall.
I notice several Dwarves paired off and sparring with each other, but it is the figure in the distance that draws my attention. It is Lyana, standing tall and proud with a bow. With an arrow nocked in the bowstring, I watch as she takes careful aim and then lets it fly.
The arrow hits slightly off center from the target, and I watch in awe as she releases another, this time hitting closer to her intended mark.
I am impressed. I did not know my mate was a warrior, but I probably should have. Dhurvaen said her brother, Arthur, was one of the most skilled warriors he had ever seen.
As I make my way across the training grounds to reach her, I find myself wondering what else I do not know about my mate.
When she turns and her luminous golden-brown eyes meet mine, I realize that—despite my better judgement—I am most curious to find out.
“What do you want, Elf?” Bran steps between us.
“Bran,” Lyana levels a warning glare at him.
He sighs. “I meant to say good morning, Caelen.”
I arch a brow, because I’m certain he did not mean to say this, but I let it go, and instead reply, “Good morning.”
My eyes sweep to Lyana. “I came to speak with you about—’
“Bran,” a voice calls out, interrupting me.
I turn to find another Dwarf walking toward us. “Your father wishes to speak with you and the princess.”
Together, we follow him to what I assume are the king’s private chambers.
King Edwyrd is seated at a large round table and Lyana’s stepmother sits beside him. The entire room appears to have been dipped in gold, for it covers almost every surface and piece of furniture.
The king frowns as soon as his gaze lands upon me. He probably did not expect me to come. The message from his servant did not include my name in his summons, but I am glad this opportunity affords me to lay out my plans.
We each take a seat at the table. A large map is spread out before us, along with several carved wooden pieces that I can only assume represent armies.
I arch a brow when I notice two of them are red—the color of Edwyrd’s banner. Another is blue, representing the army of Eryadon and the last is yellow for Fredrik’s men.
There is no other on the board. I lift my gaze to the king and arch a brow. “You have no piece to represent Rivenyl.”
He narrows his eyes. “Aye. I didn’t think your people would bother with any of this.”
His words are an insult. “Princess Lyana is my mate. My people will offer her aid.”
Crossing his arms, he sits back in his chair. “Of course, you will. If we’re successful in taking back the kingdom, I suppose you’d be wanting to make yourself king, then, now, wouldn’t you?”
I clench my jaw. “Lyana is the rightful heir. I do not seek to take the throne from her.”
What I don’t mention is our conversation last night and how we discussed dissolving our bond. That is a private matter between us, and not something I feel particularly inclined to share. Especially with someone so hostile to me and my kin.
My gaze darts to her, wondering if she will volunteer this information. Her eyes meet mine and silent understanding passes between us before she turns her attention back to the king. “Caelen knew before our marriage that it would be my decision for him to either be king or consort.”
I meet the king’s gaze evenly. “I will return to my kingdom and gather my forces. I will—”
“You will not make it,” Rina interrupts.
“Why not?”
“Fredrik has informed everyone that it was your guards who attacked in the night, and he and his men came to the rescue. They claim you murdered the king and stole the princess. The palace has issued a statement demanding your capture and death. You are a wanted man. You will not get far if you leave here.”
I still. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest as I think of my father and younger sister. They will be devastated once they hear this. I know they would never believe that I killed the king and kidnapped Lyana, but they will be worried to no end for my safety.
I turn to the king. “I need to send word to my father and sister.”
“Fredrik’s men are posted all along the roads,” King Edwyrd replies. “We were fortunate to be able to get at least one rider past them to the Dwarves of the Ferylan Mountains to ask for their aid.” He looks to Lyana and Rina. “My cousin Dalwyn will send his forces to help retake the castle. I am certain of it.”
“But how can you be sure the rider still lives?” Rina asks. “Just because he made it through one check point does not mean he was successful in reaching his destination.”
She is right, and I can tell by the expression on Edwyrd’s face that he has considered this as well. I lean forward. “All the more reason I must go to Rivenyl.”
Rina shakes her head. “Fredrik has men searching for you and the princess.” Her gaze darts to Lyana. “He will not stop until he finds and kills you both.”
“Let him try,” I grind out.
