“I wish to claim a position on the council, to be by your side, to offer my aid in any way possible, my queen.”
She studied him for a moment. He’d heard that a monarch’s direct connection to the magic gave him or her the ability to extend their senses out through that line of power to their subjects—in essence, to feel what their subjects were feeling. It had been less than a week … he hoped she was still too inexperienced to be able to control her power that way. It was enough that she could probably scent him and ascertain some of what he was feeling. He didn’t want her to realize how quickly his heart was beating or sense the emotions he was working to suppress. At least, not right now.
Finally, she nodded. “As you are now the High Lord of the Delsachts, your request is granted. You may stay.”
There was a murmur from the right side of the room, where the council members were all now seated. Tanvir exhaled and flashed her a quick, grateful smile. She didn’t return it, but he noticed the fingers of her right hand curl around the diaphanous material of the skirt of her dress. Perhaps there was hope that she would forgive him after all. She had continued to avoid him as much as possible after completing the ceremony to reclaim their power. He’d tried to do as Ceren suggested and give her time and space. However, when she couldn’t avoid him, she’d ignored him instead, hiding behind her cool, reserved demeanor, leaving him uncertain and wondering if he’d destroyed any hopes of ever getting close to her again.
But she’d let him stay. That had to mean something.
Queen Evelayn finally stood, suddenly looking far older than her eighteen years, and stared down at the Dark Draíolon, her gaze imperious. A thrill of apprehension ran through Tanvir’s veins. Though she’d been successful at completing the ceremony to retake control of the Light Power, this was the first time he’d felt that power surround her in such a tangible way. Even her scent had changed subtly—there was now an underlying hint of something sharp beneath the usual violet and sunshine that was so intoxicating, almost like the acrid smell of lightning. She was young, it was true, but she was magnificent. A hard knot tightened Tanvir’s stomach as he thought about what the future might hold for her.
Don’t think about that, he told himself. Dwelling on fear never led to anything good, as well he knew. His whole life had been composed of different levels of fear. He’d been raised during war, had lost both of his parents to that war, and most recently, his sister had become its victim. He’d made terrible decisions because of fear, as had many others.
“What is your name?” Evelayn spoke, jarring Tanvir from his morbid thoughts and drawing his attention back to the Dark Draíolon.
“Caedmon, Your Majesty,” the man responded immediately.
“And what message do you have for me, Caedmon, that is worth risking your life to come in our midst to deliver? Choose your words wisely, for they may well be your last.”
The Light Sentries tightened the cords around him at her words, but she lifted her hand to stop them.
“Let him speak.”
Tanvir watched Caedmon silently, waiting with everyone else.
“Your Majesty, I don’t come to deliver a message, but a warning. I’m tired of this war. Our people are tired of it. We wish for the same thing as you—for peace. You are young, Queen Evelayn, but I am not. Though it was a decade ago, I remember peace. I remember the time when our two kingdoms lived in harmony—in balance.”
Tanvir glanced between Caedmon and Evelayn. The queen’s eyes were narrowed, though her expression remained impassive as she listened.
“Our world is suffering because that balance has been upset. And the longer this war continues, the worse it gets. If King Bain succeeds in killing you and trying to take your power for himself, I fear the results would cause irreparable harm to Lachalonia. And many others agree with me. This island has existed since before recorded time, Light and Dark working together to create the harmony that breeds life of all kinds. That balance of Light and Dark affects not only our world, but the world beyond ours as well, outside of Lachalonia.”
“I know all of this,” Queen Evelayn interrupted. “State your purpose in coming before I tire of your presumption that I am not only young—as you so blithely pointed out—but also na?ve and uninformed.”
“Many apologies, Your Majesty.” Caedmon bent his head in supplication. “That was not my intent at all. I merely wished for you to understand my views so you will believe my purpose in coming. I wish to tell you of King Bain’s plans so that you might be prepared for the trap he intends to lay for you, and help you beat him at his own game. I wish to help you defeat my king.”
CAEDMON’S WORDS HUNG IN THE STUNNED SILENCE that followed his declaration. Evelayn’s breath caught somewhere between her heart and her throat, right beneath the conduit stone that warmed her skin day and night since she’d completed the ceremony. Did she dare believe that he was telling the truth? She knew she had to tread lightly and be very, very careful. But she couldn’t keep the tiny seed of hope from burgeoning out of the dazed stupor of grief she’d been caught in for the last few days.
“How are we to know that you aren’t here to lead us into the very trap you claim to be informing us of?” she finally asked, keeping her voice cold, refusing to allow even a hint of softness into her expression—not yet. “Your claim is interesting, I grant you that. But I find it hard to believe that after a decade, your desire for peace is suddenly strong enough to seek me out, when you never attempted to do so with the former queen.”
Caedmon looked up at her again, and she could see no guile in his strange white eyes. She scented no dishonesty, though she wasn’t entirely sure yet what it would even smell like. But there was nothing besides the frosty scent of ice and the bitterness of sorrow.
He met her gaze squarely when he responded. “I was not yet in a position to be privy to his most secret plans until recently, and there was never an opportunity like this where I believed it possible. King Bain has been very careful to always protect himself to the utmost. Though he judged your mother to be weaker than the former queen—which is why he started this war—he knew Ilaria was still a powerful queen in her own right, that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him to stop the war.
“But he thinks you to be the very things you accused me of believing—though I am not fool enough to actually believe it. Especially after you completed the ceremony. Something he didn’t think you capable of, by the by.” The Dark Draíolon smiled at her in an almost fatherly kind of way. As if he was proud of her.