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They started walking back to the castle. Before they made it too far, Graeson stopped and turned around.

Kallie turned, but Graeson waved her onward. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said.

Kallie shrugged but kept walking.

Fynn threw an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer. Their steps became wonky as they teetered down the path. Kallie slapped him lightly in the chest, ducking from underneath his arm. “Eww, Fynn. You’re all sweaty.”

Fynn chuckled, squeezing Dani closer to his other side. “What can I say? Dani knows how to put a man to work.”

“Oh, you loudmouth,” Dani said, but a smile pushed at her cheeks.

“What?” Fynn asked, ogling his wife. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Dani scoffed. “I’m not embarrassed, but sometimes you can let people’s minds do the assuming.”

“And where’s the fun in that?”

Footsteps pounded against the ground behind them, and Kallie glanced over her shoulder.

Graeson was jogging back, a bundle of lavender gathered in his hands. He held them out to her.

“What are these for?”Kallie asked.

Graeson pointed to his head. “For the headache.”

Taking the lavender, she raised the bundle to her nose and inhaled the sweet, calming aroma of the flowers. As they walked, she kept the bundle close to her face, hiding the unwelcome blush heating her cheeks and the rising smile.

* * *

The next morning,Kallie awoke to tears wetting her cheeks and the faint smell of lavender on her nose.

Chapter18

GRAESON

As Graeson bowed,black strands of hair fell in front of his face, blocking his view of the women who sat at the front of the large room.

“Rise,” Cetia, the queen of Tetria, commanded.

Graeson and the rest of the Pontians straightened. A step in front of the rest of the group, Graeson tipped his chin up.

The queen of Tetria sat on a throne unlike any other Graeson had seen. Even though he had visited Tetria a few years ago when the Tetrian tournament took place, the throne’s grandeur had not worn off. The seat was carved out of an enormous oak tree that the grand room of the castle had been built around centuries ago. According to the stories, the tree marked the birthplace of Tetria. To the Tetrians, the tree was more than a simple symbol of the territory’s birth. It was their livelihood. The heart of their homeland. Before the seven kingdoms existed and before the castle had been built, the people who had occupied the land had gathered before this tree. The ancient oak tree, which was thought to be the oldest living thing in all of Vaneria, quickly became a meeting place. This was where they decided how to govern, how to settle disputes that had risen among the people, and who would lead. The Tetrians prayed before it and placed offerings upon its roots that now weaved beneath the thick glass titles.

When the need for a more permanent place with a roof arose, there was no question where the castle should be built. The old oak tree had become the focal point for so long that the people couldn’t imagine it any other way. When the builders began, none thought to tear down the tree. They simply built around it, making it a part of the castle.

Roots sprouted beneath the transparent floors and weaved down the center and sides of the room. The grand hall wasn’t simply built on top of the roots but arranged around it. The roots had created a natural aisle in the center of the room as if beckoning the people to approach the oak tree.

From ceiling to floor, windows covered the walls. Some were made from simple glass, while others were covered with broken pieces of iridescent glass laid out in abstract patterns. Stories that Graeson had tried and failed to decipher countless times when he had visited the first time. As the sun beamed behind the queen on the throne built into the bark, its golden rays hit the glass, and splotches of color poured across the floor. A golden halo bloomed around the queen, making her features indistinguishable and shrouding her in darkness.

On each side of the queen, Tetrian warriors lined the wall wearing worn leather, their weapons sheathed but within reach. Some foreigners thought the Tetrians were naive due to their lack of armor. Graeson knew better. When the Tetrians fought, they danced with deadly grace, their blades slicing through the air in an eerie silence. Armor would only inhibit their movements.

As Graeson dragged his gaze back to the queen, the warrior nearest Cetia flexed her fingers above her long sword, catching Graeson’s attention. The shadows made it hard to be certain, but Graeson swore he saw the warrior’s lips twitch.

Graeson smirked. “It’s been a while, Ellie.”

The warrior beside the queen stepped forward, the shadows cast by the sun dissipating the moment she stepped closer.

Her hair was stark white but not from age. The top half of her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and several small braids hung near her face. Black and silver ringlets wrapped around the ends of the braids, holding each plait together. On one braid, a single red feather had been tied with string. Black and white markings were painted on her forehead, over the bridge of her nose, and across her cheeks. Black leather straps wrapped around her torso where several blades had been tucked between thin straps. Her ribcage was covered with the all-black throwing knives favored by the Tetrian warriors.