Kylan left the feast, rage filling his veins and threatening to make him shift right then and fly to confront the Fenrir King. For decades they’d tolerated an uneasy peace, keeping to themselves and pretending to be humans.
The king of the wolves had no idea who he’d angered. Though his father had been an amiable man, his son, King Rollo was proving to be less tolerant of anything outside of the Wolf race.
The air was suddenly too hot, and he ripped off his tunic and undershirt as he retreated to his room.
The dim light of a few scattered candles lit the large, but simple room. His wooden bed sat in the middle, with heavy fur blankets piled on top. A bear hide was stretched across the floor at the foot of the bed, with a trunk on top. It had once been his mother’s trunk. Rubies decorated the top and sides, and had brass trim. She’d brought it along with her from a faraway kingdom when she’d been betrothed to his father. He kept her things inside of it, as a memory.
His chest was less elaborate; plain with four buckles and only his clothing inside. The fire was already made in the hearth, and a basin and pitcher of water stood beside it. Dyed furs hung from the stone walls.
He tore one down in a fit of rage and stood at the window, looking out into the dark night outside, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
Just remembering his mother at that time was too much to stomach. He stared at the sky, realizing he hadn’t had a chance to mourn the death of his father. The realization that he was responsible for so many dragons caused an anxiety to rise from his throat. He no longer had his father to turn to when he needed advice.
At that moment, he truly needed someone with more experience to guide him.
Chief of Wregard. He hadn’t expected to hold that title for at least a few more decades.
He leaned against the window, and sighed.
King Matsuharu was an ally. Having the help of the dark elves to make safe passage through the Dragon Pass was a valuable commodity. Now, the dark elves would retreat their aid, and return to their home to mourn their king, and rebuild.
He should have known when this journey started that nothing would be given to them easily, and they’d have to fight for every advantage.
A knock came on his door and he lifted a brow, wondering who would dare to bother him while in his private quarters.
He walked to the door and flung it open, his anger dissipating as his glare met the concerned silver-eyed gaze of Amalia.
He placed his hand on the door frame and watched as her eyes trailed down his bare chest to the line of his linen trousers.
She quickly looked back up to his eyes, cheeks flushed.
“Are you all right?” She asked, her voice quiet as the fire crackled behind him.
He leaned down toward her and tilted her head up to meet his gentle kiss.
“I will be,” he said. “If you come inside.”
She closed her eyes and kissed him back. Then, she took a step back. “Tomorrow, we prepare for the arrival of the other tribe leaders. We should probably send our condolences to the dark elves, and offer any assistance they need. Considering they were so gracious as to help with my rescue.”
He nodded, a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t join him inside his room, but proud that she was beginning to sound like a true leader.
He couldn’t complain. At least he got a kiss. That would have to do. He remembered a time when he thought he’d never let a woman enter his heart.
Amalia changed everything in a single instant. Seeing her in the darkness of Father Marduk’s ship and their first touch altered him in a way he’d never return to the man he once was.
“Very well,” he said. “Heroki will take our message to Lordisburg.”
“Good. All will turn out fine. We just have to keep our heads on straight.”
Chuckling, he narrowed his eyes at her. “What a thing to say.”
She shrugged. “Its something my father used to say.”
Kylan’s smile faded. “I would have liked to have met him.”
“And, I would have liked to meet yours as well.”
He swallowed, wishing he could turn back time and bring him back. He would have adored Amalia and been proud to see his son finally find someone to love.
Love.
That word frightened him, but as he looked at Amalia, he wondered if that’s what he felt growing in his very soul.
“Well, good night,” she said, with a nod, and began to back away into the dim light of the empty corridor.
He took her by the hand, and kissed her knuckles. “Sleep well, Amalia.”
She gave him a smile that warmed his heart. It was special, and made her eyes twinkle as she looked up at him.
“You as well, Kylan.”
He watched her walk away, and closed his door.
Turning back toward his bed, he rubbed his temples as he struggled to find a way to keep the Fenrir king from interfering with their quest.