Page 54

Nothing would stop me. Not the Atlantian generals. Not the Blood Queen. And not her stolen magic.

Emil had arrived, bowing his head as I walked into the much airier space of the receiving chamber. I stopped, glancing to where Reaver waited in his draken form.

Even I had no idea how he’d gotten into the chamber.

Loosely clasping my hands together, the nervous edginess ramped up as the sounds of clinking armor drew near. Reaver lifted his head, his curved horns brushing the ceiling as his nostrils flared.

Valyn Da’Neer was the first to enter, cradling his helmet under his left arm. Momentarily distracted by Reaver’s presence, he quickly lowered to one knee, bowing his head. Hisa did the same, even though she’d been with us since the beginning, her single, thick, dark braid sliding over an armored shoulder. There were others behind them, too, but when Valyn lifted his head, I was unable to look away, even though I wanted to.

Even though it hurt.

There was no preparing myself. He was fairer-haired than his youngest son, who shared the dark hair and golden-bronze skin of his mother, but the cut of his jaw, the straight nose, and the high cheekbones were unmistakably familiar.

All I saw when I looked upon Valyn were parts of Casteel. But I breathed through the hurt and forced my gaze on the others. Three men and two women entered with Aylard. I recognized Lord Sven, Perry’s father. The thick beard was new, giving his warm features a hardened edge. As they lowered themselves to their knees, I saw that Naill and Delano had joined us. The usual striking smile was absent from Naill’s face as he kept a close watch on the generals—as did the pure white wolven now stalking the chamber’s sides. Neither Delano nor Naill were being paranoid. The Unseen still posed a threat.

The slight brush of Kieran’s shoulder against mine called forth instructions that Casteel had once given. “You may rise.”

Valyn rose as I opened my senses, reaching out to my father-in-law. I brushed against what I imagined to be an iron and stone mental shield as strong as a Rise. That ancient hum of power in my chest told me I could break through it if I wished, shattering those shields. But there was no reason to do that.

There was no reason to even consider it.

With the advice Kieran had given me in the past echoing in my mind, I used my senses for my benefit. Curiosity and something warm surrounded me as I glanced at a fair-skinned woman with chin-length, icy-blond hair, and wintry-blue eyes. Determination tasted salty in my throat.

The generals had a wolven among them.

Happy to see that, I turned my attention to the others. Lemony uncertainty mixed with the same steadfastness as the wolven general reached me, which was expected. But there were…sharper, more biting undertones of unease that came from a dark-haired man and a brown-haired female with bright amber eyes. Their uncertainty was very much like Aylard’s, venturing into distrust. And it was deep, tangling with the thrum of power at my core. I had a feeling their misgivings extended beyond me to the wolven by my side and those who had entered behind them—to what we now represented. The Crown. Power.

We’d need to keep an eye on them.

From his corner, Reaver watched the former King approach me. Valyn clasped my hands in his, squeezing gently. He said nothing, but the gesture meant a lot to me despite still being furious with Eloana and having no idea if Valyn had been unaware of who the Blood Queen was.

“We heard about the draken,” Valyn said, turning to look in Reaver’s direction. “You have our sincere condolences.”

Reaver gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“If the Blood Crown is responsible, we will do everything in our power to make them pay tenfold,” he swore, releasing my hands and stepping back. Only then did Reaver lower his head.

“I hope the journey here was uneventful,” I said.

“It was, Your Highness,” Valyn answered.

I was a heartbeat from advising Valyn that he didn’t need to call me that, but using the formal title while in front of others or when business concerning Atlantia was being discussed was a sign of respect. “Would you care for something to drink?” I offered, gesturing to the table. “There is mulled wine and water.”

A quick smile appeared on Valyn’s face, hinting at the deep dimples his son shared. “That I would.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sure Sven would also enjoy a glass.”

“Always,” the Atlantian Lord replied. I wasn’t quite sure how old Perry’s father was, as the visible, rich brown skin showed little signs of aging. He appeared to be in his third to fourth decade of life, but that could also mean he was seven or eight hundred years old. I reminded myself to speak to him later about his knowledge regarding old magic.