Page 57 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Caellum

S adira tensed beside Caellum. Usurper —the term was destined to haunt him, even with Sadira at his side.

She interlocked her hand with his, calming his breathing.

Caellum did not recognise the two sitting opposite them, but then again, why would he recognise the common inhabitants of a tavern?

Caellum straightened; he would not be made to feel inferior.

The old man assessed him with one eye twitching as he did.

Wrinkling her nose, the redhead averted her gaze before looking at Sadira again with a more neutral expression.

How did two common inhabitants know about the Sword of Sonos?

“Say we do know about this sword.” Caellum ignored the usurper comment. “How do you know its origins?”

The redhead and old man shared a look; the power balance between the two was unclear.

“My great-great-grandfather helped to make it,” said the redhead, gesturing to the man beside her.

“His grandfather.” Relatives then. Caellum was unsure whether he believed her, and it seemed Sadira shared his scepticism.

“Wiccans were the first race who learned to imbue items; we are the most powerful at it, or at least we were. It’s an ability that has diminished over generations.

Without a Wiccan, our ancestors would not have created a weapon capable of defeating dark beings. ”

“If that is the case, why did the rulers only learn of the sword weeks ago?” challenged Sadira, and pride bloomed in Caellum’s chest. The Garridon crown on her head was a perfect fit.

“Wiccans are known to have secretive clans,” said the redhead, staring into Sadira’s soul. Caellum glanced at his betrothed. He did not love the new trend of discovering more information they were oblivious to. Sadira’s expression faltered. The old man finally spoke.

“You do not even know your own clan?” His milky eyes studied Sadira, and Caellum shifted closer to her side.

“Do not make me feel inferior about knowledge that has been kept from me. It is no fault of mine,” Sadira snapped. The redhead eyed Sadira with a grin.

“She has a backbone, I like that.”

As long as they like one of us.

“So do I,” Caellum voiced from her side. Sadira blushed.

The redhead woman eyed the book on the table, and her pale fingers twitched as if eager to touch it.

“The book you have there belongs to the Brodie Clan, the one your great-grandfather once led.” Lyra’s father. “ There is a reason he met and so quickly fell in love with your great-grandmother. The Brodie’s worked closely with the Mordane royal family.”

“Why would my grandmother keep this from me?” Sadira asked the man, who winced.

“Your grandmother knew the paths people needed to take. It was not your path to know until now.” Caellum wondered if there was anything else his family had kept from him before Sadira’s voice raised a notch.

“What difference would knowing my origins make?” Caellum squeezed her hand again, and Sadira cleared her throat, returning her expression to calm indifference. “What is the relevance of the sword?”

The redhead reached for the book and dragged it to the centre of the table, where she pointed to a sketch of twisting vines along the edge of the page, worn from numerous hands over the years.

“Look closer,” she said, and Caellum leaned in with Sadira until their foreheads touched.

The woman’s dainty fingers trailed the vines, and the minuscule, nearly illegible writing beneath.

“It’s an incantation.” Caellum’s confusion mirrored Sadira’s.

“You do not use incantations with your power?” she asked, frowning.

Sadira leaned back. “My power is second nature. I simply think, and it wields.”

“Think of how much more it could do with guidance.” The woman’s eyes grew wide as she tapped at the words.

“This— this is how the sword was made.” She closed the book and slid it back towards Sadira while Caellum turned over what they knew of the sword in his mind.

Their companions had not mentioned the Goddess Vala or the God Keres.

Is what we know wrong? Or are they missing information?

The Historian had told them that the gods had blessed the sword.

The two rose from their booth, and Sadira opened her mouth as if to stop them. He imagined Sadira still had many more questions about her lineage and wished to uncover more information for Larelle. The old man tugged at the redhead's hand, and they paused. His face softened.

“Good luck,” he said. “We are here when you need us.”

It was not lost on Caellum that he only addressed Sadira.

“We do not even know your names,” said Caellum. The redhead whipped to face him.

“There is power in a name.”

***

“What do you think she meant by ‘a name carries a lot of power?” Caellum asked Sadira as they took the stairs to the inn. She giggled and stumbled into him, and he grabbed her elbow on instinct. Sadira had poured over the book for hours while both sipped the tavern’s wine.

Caellum had been content with watching his citizens, though the atmosphere lacked the merriment he imagined usually graced the tavern.

He heard various mentions of the creatures, the word having spread across the towns.

Yet an awkwardness stopped him from addressing the people, even those who stole glances at the pair huddled in the booth.

Not wishing to ride through the night to Antor, the pair stayed in Albyn and would ride straight to the Neutral City in the morning. Sadira clutched the book to her chest, resting her chin on the worn edges.

“If what she mentioned about incantations is correct, I imagine words carry weight when using power,” Sadira mused. Caellum wished he could hear the thoughts running through her head, thoughts now swimming in her eyes when they reached the door.

Caellum clumsily twisted the key to their room, the wine having rushed to his head. The door groaned through the dimly lit hallway as he pushed it open.

“Oh,” Sadira whispered. Caellum rocked on his feet as he surveyed the pocket-sized room filled mainly by only one double bed in its centre.

“I suppose it is not absurd they assume those betrotheds may wish to share a bed,” Caellum said, clearing his throat.

He gestured Sadira through the doorway first, his eyes flitting to the open back of her gown, noting the flush of her pale skin from the warmth in the tavern.

He focused on the ceiling and hovered in the doorway.

“I will ask for a separate room close by,” he announced.

Sadira reached for the trunk of her belongings at the end of the bed that had already been brought to the room, sat snugly next to his at the end of the bed.

She turned towards him and retrieved a silk robe, her hair tumbling over her shoulder and glinting beneath the light of the lanterns hanging on either side of the bed.

“It is late, I—” Sadira clutched the robe to her stomach.

“I do not mind if you stay here. It will save you trouble. It is already dark, and we must leave early for the Neutral City.” He did not know if he imagined the blush across her cheeks, but she spoke again before he could reply.

“It is a long ride; we need to be well rested, particularly after drinking.”

Caellum hesitated before crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him.

“I will warm some water for you so you can bathe.” He avoided her gaze as he strode for the adjoining room, attempting to busy himself.

The distraction was short-lived, however, as he dipped his hand in the tub to find it had been warmed for them.

“You must be aching after so long travelling,” he said.

He turned from the tub and almost collided with Sadira, who stood in the doorway.

He braced his hand against the top of the frame to avoid tumbling into her, his heart pounding when Sadira peered up at him through her lashes, locking her green eyes on his.

“I shall leave you to enjoy your bath in peace,” he mumbled.

She grazed past him, brushing her chest against his.

Caellum clenched his jaw as he fought the urge to pause, keeping the closeness that had bloomed between them ever since the engagement ball.

His eyes lingered on her back as she reached for the buttons on her dress.

He grabbed a cloth and a bowl of cold water from the side and closed the door to avoid temptation.

Once he washed himself, he changed into his sleeping attire; a simple pair of loose trousers while he kept his chest bare.

He stoked the fire and paced in front of the bed.

Did he get in it? He yanked the sheets, flattened them back into place, and continued pacing.

He locked his hands behind his neck and glanced at the desk, unsure whether to wait until Sadira chose her side of the bed.

He crossed to the desk and opened the book atop it to appear engrossed with reading, but who reads topless?

He panicked and scraped back the wooden chair again, returning to the bed.

“Pull yourself together,” he scolded himself.

The door to the bathing chambers creaked open, forcing Caellum to decide. He slid into the bed and pulled the sheets to cover his chest.

Caellum took an intake of breath as Sadira emerged, the steam from the bathroom gracing her entrance.

She cast her eyes downward and squeezed a towel around her hair, which hung over one shoulder.

Her bare feet were quiet as she padded out a few steps, still focused on the floor.

Caellum trailed her ankle-length, sage green robe tied at her waist. The lace at the sleeves slipped down as her arms moved to discard the towel.

In doing so her damp hair partially soaked through the fabric, and Caellum swallowed at the subtle peaks of her nipples.

Sadira looked up at him, and he quickly averted his gaze .