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The warlord didn’t come to fetch Fionna for the morning meal. Not surprising, seeing as she rose before dawn, still agitated by the theft of the book. She’d looked high and low for it, rifling through every cupboard, snooping under the bed, everywhere it might have been placed by a servant or lost because it fell.
When that proved fruitless, she’d reported to Amelia via the mirror. It was a brief conversation as the witch queen was in the midst of some castle repair. It would seem with the draining of the waters, damage to the foundation was revealed. Fionna couldn’t help but be glad she didn’t have to lay brick with the other witches living in the keep as they didn’t have masons to hire, their home being the only structure of stone. The marsh dwellers tended to gravitate to wooden homes on stilts.
Fionna spent a restless night, her sleep fraught with nightmares of some unseen monster chasing her, interspersed by moments with the warlord. Moments where he wore little clothing. She’d been particularly riveted, watching him bathe in a river, his bulky muscles rippling, his skin glistening with moisture. She’d woken with her thighs slick with sweat and her vulva aching.
Hopefully not an infection. Just in case, she took a moment to check her body’s threads for signs of illness. She saw nothing, and after she bathed all seemed normal again.
Despite the early hour, she found the warlord’s father sitting in the dining hall with a full plate.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, taking a place beside him. It would have been rude to ignore the man sitting alone.
Gurlok offered her a smile. “Good morning, envoy. Did you pass a pleasant night?”
“I did, thank you. And you?” she politely asked.
The man shrugged. “I did once my wife stopped ranting.” He glanced at Fionna. “You made quite the impression.”
“I do apologize. I’m afraid I might have been a tad too open with my opinions.”
“Don’t apologize. You said some of the same things I have. Kormac is capable of finding his own wife in his own time. He tends to be stubborn when he feels forced.”
“I’m surprised his mother doesn’t recognize that trait, seeing as how they’re so alike.”
Laughter shook Gurlok’s whole body. “Indeed, they are, which is why they clash so often.”
“I probably should have sat elsewhere this morn. She won’t be happy if she hears we’re having a meal together. She really dislikes me.”
“She is convinced you are seducing Kormac with your wicked witch ways.”
Fionna snorted. “Love spells aren’t a thing.”
“I don’t think it’s magic that has Kormac intrigued by you.”
“Hardly intrigued,” Fionna quickly countered. “He just seems overly interested because of the situation.”
“He’s not usually one to hover over people doing their job.”
“He’s worried about his friend,” she replied.
“Have you made any progress?”
“Some. The curse afflicting him is tricky.”
“I’m sure Amelia wouldn’t have sent you if she didn’t think you capable of handling it.”
The use of her mentor’s name and not title startled. “You know Amelia?”
“I do, not that it’s common knowledge. She visited once, in secret. Claimed she’d had a vision and warned me to watch my borders carefully.”
“Did she say why?”
He shook his head. “No, and I wish I’d taken her more seriously. Alas, at the time, as a newly minted warlord and brash about our current peaceful state, I didn’t. Perhaps if I had, we might have caught the situation earlier.”
“I don’t think it would have mattered. There are problems plaguing the entire continent, as if a long-sleeping menace has awakened. While you’ve not really seen a surge of monsters yet in Srayth, I fear it is only a matter of time.”
“Kormac mentioned the dragon spotted in the pass. Perhaps it won’t leave the mountain.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she warned. “And where there is one, there will be others. They’ve been multiplying in number in the past few years. You should look into the construction of ballistae and large harpoons to defend your city.”
