Page 81 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

“I don’t know how many more times I’ll be able to do it.”

A smile pierced his lips, although his eyes told me the inevitability of our bargain scratched at his heart.

“Get a room,” Roderick said, standing in the doorway, dressed in his finest Stormlands armor, holding Amolie’s hand.

“We have one, and you’re in it,” Caiden said, giving Roderick the finger.

31AELIA

The Alder Palaceproved overwhelming up close. Despite being winter, flowered vines wrapped their way up the trunk of the massive tree. The fragrance of blooming flowers wafted through the air, enveloping the palace in an intoxicating blend of sweet, natural perfume. Birds called to one another from extended limbs. A waterfall cascaded gracefully down the side of the ancient tree, sparkling like jewels in the winter sun. Degloving my hand, I let the cool water calm my racing heart.

Creatures of every race and creed waited to be ushered into the great hall for an audience with the Alder King.

Amolie elbowed me in the ribs. “Centaurs, look, actual centaurs.” She bit her nails, trying to contain her excitement.

A herd of centaurs waited to be announced, swishing their tails back and forth. Their human halves adorned with intricately designed leather armor. A blanket of woven snowflakes covered their horse halves. Legendary warriors, they kept to their own.

Behind the centaurs waited the halflings—short creatures, no taller than a child, with pointed ears and round faces. The southern halflings were known for their ability to mine the mostprecious jewels, and the northern halflings were considered the finest brewers of ale in Moriana.

I searched the crowd for Gideon and Baylis but could not find them. My heart pulsed with anticipation.Breathe, Aelia, just breathe. Everything will be fine.

A courtier called our name. “Lord Caiden Stormweaver of the Court of Storms.”

We entered the great hall. Garlands of flowers hung from the wooden rafters. The smell of fresh-cut wood cloaked everything. Sylph, fairies, and other creatures crowded the throne room. Some watched the procession and whispered to one another, while others dined on elk hearts and cake. At the far corner of the room, men held their mouths open while naked women drowned them in enchanted wine. The red liquid spilled out of their mouths and over their chests, but still, they begged for more. In the distance, a lute played.

Caiden and I led the way, followed by Amolie and Roderick. Eyes watched us as we descended the petal-covered aisle toward the dais, where the Alder King perched above his court.

“Don’t look at him until he addresses us,” Caiden had warned us on the ride over.

I stared at my feet, watching my glass shoes smash the fresh petals, releasing their sweet aromas.

Reaching the dais, we fell to our knees, honoring the Alder King.

“Rise,” a voice older than time proclaimed from high above.

Alder King: an ancient creature whose existence predated the sylphs. Skin like weathered leather stretched over a refined bone. Atop his silver mane rested a crown crafted of golden antlers. His serene white eyes locked onto mine, captivating me with his merciless stare as he lazily tapped his throne with long, clawed fingers.

Next to him, Tharan sat wearing a kelly green velvet vestembroidered with golden trees. His wine-red hair brushed to a lustrous sheen. A bored expression splashed upon his elegant face.

His sister, Briar, sat poised opposite her brother. Her dark hair cascaded onto the dais: a pale woman, half of her face replaced by decaying wood. A faint light flickered where an eye should have been. She did not acknowledge my presence.

“Your court has not visited for an age.” The king stared at Caiden.

Caiden cleared his throat. “My king, I know our kingdoms have a rocky history, but let us come together to celebrate the solstice and the dawning of a new year.”

The ancient kind nodded approvingly. “Allies are always a good thing.”

“They are indeed. Let me present to you a token of our friendship.” Caiden mustered lightning between his hands, pulling and manipulating it into a long wand. The Hunt aimed their spears at Caiden but lowered them at the king’s behest. Twisting and turning, Caiden shaped the lightning into a staff. With one final flick of his finger, the lightning hardened.

“For you, Lord of the Forest, a staff of pure lightning.”

The king’s stoic demeanor lightened to one of joy. “I’ve always envied the Stormweaver line. Illya favored your line.”

“You are more powerful than any Stormweaver could ever hope to be, my lord,” Caiden said, presenting the staff to the Alder King.

“Thank you,” he said, twirling the staff.

A courtier motioned for us to leave.

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