Page 140 of The Ashborn

Kienna fell drunkenly into Danek’s presence again. She’d need her army. He would always be her first choice for it. “We’ll need to talk after this. There are things that I need to share with you.”

She would tell him about the bonds. She had to trust that his love for her was deeper.

—Tristian—

Tristian twiddled his thumbs in the council room. Ingrid stalled the meeting yet again with questions about Kienna. Where was she? Why was she not around to meet with the Viking Clan since naming her heiress to the throne? All things pointed toward a frightened girl who could not withstand the terrors of war amongst them all.

“We sprang the throne on her.” Broan shrugged. “I doubt she planned to wear fancy gowns and run councils in her lifetime.”

Ingrid spat. “Spare me yer games, brother. Our father waits, prophecy or not. When will she yield?”

Queen Elira sat on her throne, blankly staring at the brutes arguing in the room. Kaelthar stood amongst his Vikings.

Smart move, Tristian thought.

It was a fool’s game to stand against them. Even without magic, they would hex Kaelthar socially. He’d never be able to go home. Tristian could do without Kaelthar’s constant presence in the Elvish city. He talked too much.

Alister remained in his seat, watching them banter with an eager grin on his face. What was this man hiding? Tristian studied him often to figure out why he would never leave like the others. Those from Dove Port and Traegaron rarely visited to take their seat on the council. Even Dalelry’s presence remained unseen for months. Alister of Holbeck never faltered.

Then there was Seredai. Tristian could tell she itched to go home to Silverthorne. These war briefings and constant banter over who held the magic and what was best for the realm only seemed to drive her mad. Seredai came from the highest intellects he had ever met. The council fell beneath her, yet she appeared more frequently since Kienna entered the picture.

“You can’t hide your princess without being accountable for how we intend this alliance to go,” Ingrid continued, another flicker of anger flashing over her.

Connak approached from behind the Vikings, his eyes beaming. Tristian sat forward. If he was back…perhaps⁠—

“Where have you been?” Alister asked, voice giddy. “Perhaps you have news of our newly bestowed princess?”

“She’s been…meditating,” Connak said, taking his seat across from Tristian. “It’s an Elvish ritual to do such things when⁠—”

Broan laughed, interrupting him mid-sentence. “Kienna doesn’t meditate.”

Of course, Broan knew more than he let on. He spent the last two days with Danek. The Viking wasn’t stupid. Tristian glanced at Connak, unamused. Telling the entire council that Kienna was meditating seemed like a stretch. The Elvish only meditated when necessary as a connection to the Eternal Mother and the earth. Even Queen Elira’s suspicions rose from this explanation, but Connak couldn’t be bothered.

“We’re done here,” Ingrid said. “If you can’t produce the heiress, we have nothing to offer.”

The queen smoothed the silk of her dress and stood. It appeared as if she couldn’t decide whether she should prepare for another battle or a coronation. A silver jumpsuit sculpted her shape. Draped from her hips, a sheer overskirt of pale blue floated after her. “It was you,” she said pointedly to Broan, but her gaze remained on Ingrid, “that wanted her named my heiress, correct? I do not think she’s fit to rule, as obvious as it is now with her absence. But the Vikings want her. You have made your bed with it. I see no further reason to continue discussing.”

Ingrid laughed. The laughter did not reflect amusement. “You intend to train her, I imagine, Queen Elira. Or perhaps our father was right about your ineptitude.”

Connak stood, but not to defend Elira, nor stop her from reaching up to set the Viking woman straight. Tristian followed Connak’s line of sight and found himself, too, standing. The sight of Kienna shocked him. He couldn’t tell why, but she walked upright, the ice of her blue eyes melting, harnessed with a steadfast fire. Though muted, an orange flame glittered around her body. It would be invisible to most who didn’t know how to spot magic the way he did, but he could see it. It was the start of becoming.

Ruva trailed closely behind her, Danek stationed on the other side. All voices fell in the room, echoes of footsteps and the wolf’s panting bouncing off the chambers of the tree.

“Nice of you to fucking show up, princess,” Broan scoffed, arms folded over one another. “I see Pretty Boy finally found you.”

Ingrid stepped forward, halting Kienna before she reached the council. She eyed Kienna closely, gaze peering low and shoulders drawn back. Danek crept forward. He didn’t interfere, but his fists scrunched into balls. Tristian wondered if he’d be able to hold the weight that came with staying at Kienna’s side.

“I trust you are taking our alliance seriously,” Ingrid said after a silence. Her voice boomed behind her, though it sounded as if she intended it as a low growl.

Kienna matched her stance, broadening her shoulders. “Very.”

“Did you find your meditation to be fruitful?”

Lips curving upward, Kienna flicked her attention to Connak and then back to Ingrid. “I did.”

Alister leaned forward from his place at the council table, a thin smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “As riveting as this little interrogation is,” he drawled, voice oiled with mock courtesy, “perhaps we might save the dramatics for after more pressing matters are addressed? Time, after all, is a luxury some of us can ill afford.” He tapped a lazy finger against his council seat, the sound sharp and deliberate.

What was he in a hurry for? Tristian lingered on him but couldn’t fight the urge to turn back to Kienna.