We talk long into the night, explaining our journey to Caelen’s family and Ruvaen. As Caelen speaks with his mentor, his father walks over to me.
“You remind me of him, you know. I will never forget how your brother stood before me and my court, demanding that we end our fighting. I thought he would make a fine ally with Dhurvaen when they both came into their rule.” Sadness flits briefly across his expression. “Prince Arthur was an honorable man and a strong warrior. You honor him with your strength.”
Emotions lodge in my throat, but I somehow manage to speak around them. “Thank you.”
“I believe in peace.” His eyes drift to Caelen, across the room. “I never imagined that the pursuit of it would bring my son so much happiness.” He looks down at my hand and the ring Caelen gave me on our wedding night. The one that belonged to his wife—Caelen’s mother. “If my mate were here, I believe she would have approved of your match.” A faint smile quirks his lips. “Welcome to our family.”
His gaze turns to Veron, who is speaking with Ruvaen. Kyvern arches a brow and he looks so much like Caelen, when he does that, I have a hard time hiding my smile. “If you will excuse me,” he says, “I wish to go speak with the first dragon ever to set foot in my home.”
Nurala approaches as soon as he leaves. “I overheard my father speaking with you just now.”
“You were all the way across the room. How did—”
She grins and points to her ears, and we both laugh.
Her expression sobers and she takes my hand. “It is good to see my brother so happy. I hope you do not think it too forward that I already regard you as my sister.”
“Of course not.” I smile. “I like that.”
She looks down at the ring on my hand. “Father was right. I believe our mother would have liked you.” Her eyes flick up to mine. “I understand loss, Lyana. And I am sorry that you lost your family. But I want you to know that you are not alone. You are ours now just as much as you are Caelen’s.”
I’m moved to tears, but I push them down as she hugs me and bids me goodnight.
I step out on the balcony and into the cool night air. I gaze down at the gardens below and I’m struck by how different they are from Eryadon. Long vines with glowing white flowers hang down over the walls, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze like living curtains.
Water flows along the many pathways that wind throughout the space, weaving in and out of the many trees with rich, glowing, purple leaves. Their trunks twist at various angles, as if competing for the sun. Several flowering bushes and plants blanket the area with vibrant bioluminescent blooms of blues, reds and yellows.
Unlike Eryadon, where all the plants are trimmed and lined in perfect rows and patterns, there is a wild and unkept beauty to these gardens.
Strong arms slip around my waist from behind and pull me back against a solid wall of muscle. I tip my head back and Caelen presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “I spoke with my father,” he says. “I want you to remain here. I will travel with Rivenyl’s army and—”
“No.” I turn in his arms to face him. “Eryadon is my kingdom by birthright. What kind of ruler would I be if I were not even present in the battle to retake it?”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I continue. “Besides, you said in each version of the future you saw in the mirror, it did not matter if I was there or not. The end”—my voice catches as I think on my demise—“you said it was the same no matter what.”
Footsteps behind us draw our attention and we turn to find Ruvaen. “I believe I understand why this is,” he says solemnly.
“Then, tell us,” Caelen says, irritation tinging his tone. “Because I see no reason why we should not just take the chance and try to keep Lyana here, where she would be safe.”
Ruvaen shakes his head. “My dear prince, there is nowhere that is safe for her. As long as she draws breath, she is a threat to the new rulers of Eryadon. They cannot allow her to live. Not if they want to ensure the hold on their reign.”
“Our borders are heavily guarded and—”
“Queen Rina is a Goblin witch. She has taken the appearance of a human and deceived not only Lyana and her father, but Fredrik and the entire kingdoms of Eryadon and Winterhold. If she can take any form she desires, there is no place that she cannot infiltrate if she is determined to do so.”
His words settle like a heavy stone in my gut. “He’s right,” I tell Caelen. “That is why the outcome does not change even if I am not present at the battle.”
Ruvaen steps forward. “One thing about the visions the mirror showed you, troubles me.”
“What is it?” Caelen asks.
“You are holding the apple and then you still see the glass coffin with Lyana inside.” His brow furrows deeply. “There is something we are missing, but I do not know what.”
His words send a chill down my spine, but I do my best to hide my fear.
Ruvaen inclines his head in a subtle bow. “I will use my magic to see what I can of the future.”
“You are a seer?” I ask, taken aback. I’ve heard of them, but I have never met one before.
“My visions are not always clear,” he explains. “And the future is always changing. Each choice we make affects the ones after.”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine standing before a pond and throwing a stone in the water. The ripples along the surface are the result of that singular event. Each of them spreading out in a different direction.”
I frown. “So, how do you know which future is the correct one?”
“That is the problem,” he replies. “It is why predictions of the future are so difficult to interpret in my visions.” He darts a glance at Caelen. “Even so, I will divine what I can.”
“Thank you, Ruvaen,” I tell him.
He inclines his head. “Of course, Queen Lyana.”
“You may call me Lyana,” I tell him.
His lips quirk up slightly at the edges. “Thank you, Lyana.” His eyes flick to Caelen and he bows again. “I will see you both in the morning.”
As soon as he’s gone, Caelen wraps his arms around me. “There is always an out to any bargain,” he repeats the witch’s words. “We simply have to find it.”
