Kastali Dun

Saffra struggled to breathe, struggled to keep pace with Bedelth's long strides as he all but dragged her down the Hall of Kings. She was hardly aware of the door opening, closing behind them, her body being pushed against it, his lips capturing hers. She groaned, the touch of him breaking the spell of shock surrounding her, pulling her from the fear, replacing it with frenzied desire.

For a brief minute, the roaring panic abated. There was only the bulk of a male before her, pressed against her, his lips roving over hers. She gasped against his mouth, letting her tongue explore his. Her hands grabbed at him, fisting his tunic, the leather of his baldric. She ignored the press of daggers against her chest, where his met hers.

"Time," he breathed, separating their lips briefly. "I wish we had more time."

She swallowed against the thickness building in her throat. Time...

A flash of guilt had her eyes darting anywhere but his face. They would have had more of it, had she not fought this thing between them.

His expression turned from hungry to soft, to understanding. "Saffra, my gem, my star, do not go there." He ran his fingers over her cheekbones, soothing her. She exhaled. "You needed time to process, to come to terms with what we are. There is nothing we can do to change the past."

These minutes, she realized, were the final minutes they might get together before all chaos ensued. This was their goodbye...for now. "We will have our time," she told him, summoning courage. "When this is all over, I will give you that time I refused to give you before."

Bedelth's expression crumbled into pure yearning. His lips were on hers again, his breaths jagged. He smelled like smoke and earth. The scent reminded her of her childhood, of late nights watching the sun set before an outdoor bonfire.

She tried to memorize this moment, cement it into her mind. The feel of him pressed against her, heat passing between them. The ache building in her abdomen. The taste of his lips. The press of his hands against her face, gentle, cradling her—hands strong enough to break bones, but never hers.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "I...I must go—Reyr is summoning me."

"I know," she breathed. "I know."

She too needed to get where she was expected, down in the lowest floors of the keep, where she'd be working with Desaree and Jocelyn until this was all over. They shared a final kiss, a thing wrapped in hunger, desperation, and so many unspoken promises. Then they broke apart and went their separate ways.

***

Saffra worked until her feet ached, then she worked some more. The entry and dining hall had been set up as an infirmary in anticipation of what was to come. The city's healers had been assembled, and together, with Desaree, Jocelyn, and Claire's Spriten handmaidens, they'd set up designated areas to reduce the chaos that would ensue. Piles of fresh linens, bandages, and healers supplies sat in heaps in several locations. Massive amounts of water and bath salts for cleaning wounds had been stored in barrels. Rows and rows of pallets sat empty.

"Surely we would never..." Desaree's voice faded, gazing out over the sea of beds. There were two hundred between both halls.

Saffra reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing. "I hope it won't come to that."

"My lady," a male servant appeared. Besides the healers, who helped oversee the set up, the entire keep's serving staff had been enlisted. "An additional reserve of pallets was located."

"Thank the gods," Saffra breathed.

"We have them stacked neatly in the corridor just outside the throne room, as you said."

She swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. Would it come to that? Would there be so many injured people that they'd need to fill King Talon's sacred seat of rule with bloodied bodies? She ignored the queasy feeling in her stomach and said, "Good, thank you Thork." His face turned red when she used his name. He bowed twice then scurried away.

A large group of people began filing in, mostly men. They looked almost lost, glancing around with wary eyes. She looked at Desaree. "Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?" Des shook her head and took a step backwards. Saffra sighed. "Fine. Follow me."

Most of the organizational work had been completed. She strode to a nearby intake station, grabbed the stool, and climbed atop it. "May I have your attention!" she called. Her voice was barely heard over the murmurs and discussions taking place throughout both halls. She repeated the command, this time shouting until her voice cracked. Silence fell.

"Thank you. If you will, gather around." She waited until everyone was clustered together before handing out formal instructions. The healers would remain within the halls, treating new patients. The servants would be on hand to carry water, bandages, and run other necessary errands. They would also assist with various mundane tasks like cleaning wounds and calming patients. If they had complaints about their change in duties, they didn't voice them.

The other volunteers that had just joined them would be runners and messengers. They would help bring injured through the city and into the castle. A long debate had been held, when they'd first discussed the location of their injury ward. They'd looked at various warehouses throughout the city. It was decided that the injured would be safest within the keep, behind the extra walls. Sick bays in the city could still be a major target, if the enemy discovered the location. There were people aplenty to help bring the wounded in. They were given gurneys for those who might not be able to walk.

"If everyone understands, and there are no other questions, then we will break." Saffra hesitated, waiting for someone to speak up. Her words were met with silent acceptance. "Good, then get whatever rest you can find, and meet back here when—"

The rest of her words died, replaced with a loud tolling bell. Just a single bell, at first. It managed a handful of bongs before another, and then another, and another sounded. In less than a minute, the entire city was echoing with the sounds of warning.

Saffra and Desaree shared a look. Jocelyn came speeding into the entry hall from the main staircase, out of breath. She glanced around, then rushed for them.

"They've been sighted," Jocelyn managed, breathless. "Come."

Saffra hesitated, then turned back towards the gathered crowd. "Do not forget your duty," she reminded them, hoping they wouldn't panic. "Remember your instructions, and do not stray far."

She jumped from the chair.

It took mere minutes, racing after Jocelyn with Desaree, Miera, and Selphie on their heels. They rushed onto a terrace overlooking the sea, on the second floor of the keep. Saffra jerked to a stop. Her blood ran cold.

A military fleet. Ships, filling the horizon. They were still dots, the size of her thumbnail.

"Gods above," she whispered. Knowing what was coming had been one thing. Seeing it was another. Her hand pressed against her stomach. This was what their armies would face. This was what Bedelth would face.

The sound of vomiting had her spinning on her heel. Desaree was hunched over a nearby planter with a statue in the middle. Her body heaved several times, then she stood and wiped her mouth, face pale as a ghost's, eyes wide. They all shared fearful glances.

"We must be strong," Saffra said.

"Our queen will protect us," Selphie agreed, nodding. Only Miera and Selphie looked composed, their faces stoic. She'd never seen them particularly emotional over anything, really. How old were they? Had they ever lived through a battle like this, sequestered in their protected forest? Were they so immortal that they had no fear of dying?

They held each other's gazes. On instinct, Saffra reached out and took Desaree's hand in hers, and then Jocelyn's. Soon, all of them were gathered, hand in hand, just breathing, mustering the strength they would need to carry on.

Saffra felt every ringing bong of the bells as each one reverberated through her body. She closed her eyes briefly to simply breathe. Her mind flashed to Bedelth. He'd be flying with the king's wing. Claire would be at the pinnacle. Surely no harm would come to them.

Her mind immediately betrayed her, thoughts of the cave screamers swarming them, immobilizing them, bringing them down. Her eyes flew open. "We must set to work. Waiting will only leave us venerable to our thoughts. Let us busy ourselves as best we can."

The others nodded.

If she thought there would be a moment to rest, to muster her strength before the onslaught, she'd been wrong. Resting would only leave her prey to her thoughts. With a final glance at the horizon, at the fleet of ships racing towards Kastali Dun, and the smaller naval fleet that would meet them in open water, she turned and led the others away.

***

Saffra was relieved when Claire made an appearance, sweeping into the entry hall with all eight of her Queen's Guard in formation around her. Everyone froze, then dropped to one knee. Saffra followed, but did not lower her gaze—couldn't lower her gaze. Couldn't take her eyes off the woman standing before them.

Claire looked as she never had before.

Saffra threw a glance at Miera and Selphie, knowing they were responsible for how the queen looked today. And it wasn't just how she was dressed, but the battle ready expression she wore, as if having King Talon in her mind and turned a piece of her into him. A warrior.

Like that of her Queen's Guard, she wore similar armor, but not as many plates of it. Instead of a gown, she was in a black tunic and pants. She had a Spriten short sword strapped to her hip and upon her back, her Rider's bow and quiver of arrows. These arrows had fiery red-orange feathers and Saffra knew which arrows these were. She'd heard of Claire's time in the forest, of the phoenix arrows she'd been gifted. In her hand, Claire carried her Spriten quarterstaff, which she quickly haded to Prince Feowen.

"Rise, please," Claire said. Saffra stood and Caire made a beeline straight for her. She took Saffra's hands in hers. "You've transformed this place."

"We did what we could with the time we had."

Claire's eyes darted around, taking everything in, holding tight to Saffra's hands. Their friends shuffled closer. Claire's eyes returned to Saffra's.

"I came..." Claire's throat bobbed. "I came to say goodbye, for now. We're taking to the skies in a few minutes. But—"

"No." Saffra knew where this was going. "Don't even think about it."

"It is in bad taste to interrupt your queen," Claire teased, but there was little mirth in her voice. "Saffra, if anything happens to me, I'm counting on you to be strong for the rest of us. Our kingdom relies on you—needs you. Not just for your gifts, but for your strength of will, for your spirit, for your heart. If I should fall,"—Saffra's heart briefly stopped—"then I'm counting on you to take care of everyone in my stead. Our little group has grown. You must be the glue that holds it together."

"Why are you talking like this?!" Saffra managed at last, failing to hide her fear, and even the seed of anger taking root. How dare she add fear to an already frightening situation?!

Claire's throat bobbed, her expression softening. Something flashed in her gaze, there and gone. Saffra's blood chilled at the sight.

"Just...please, Saffra." Claire's voice lowered, until only Saffra could hear her. "I promise to stay safe, to stay alive, but our victory is not certain. Even Taylynn, when I questioned her this morning, didn't know the outcome. She's being...strange, as always, and I have this awful feeling."

"You're scaring me," Saffra managed.

"I'm scaring myself." Claire's eyes went unfocused, then, "Talon says it is time. I must go. Promise me, Saff. Promise me you will be our glue, if anything should happen to us. That you will be the strong one, if...if anything happens. I cannot have you...you cannot..."

Saffra blinked. "You cannot have me fall apart, like I did with Commander—with Daxton."

Claire nodded, a slight flush rising to her cheeks.

Saffra squared her shoulders. "I give you my word, my queen. Should anything happen—and it will not, because you and our king are meant to rule together—I will make sure that we remain strong and steadfast in our fight against Kane."

"You will keep a level head."

"I will keep a level head," Saffra repeated, as if swearing a formal oath, "even if the others do not."

A look of immense relief spread across Claire's face. She blew out a breath, then nodded. "Thank you. I just...I needed to make sure."

Claire dropped her hands, then pulled her into a hug. It was brief—too brief. Saffra found herself holding the queen tightly, afraid that this could be the last time, afraid that something could go wrong and the queen Dragonwall had needed for centuries would be snatched away from them just as quickly as she'd come. No, no. She couldn't think that way—couldn't afford to.

Claire turned towards the others, giving Desaree a long embrace, whispering something to her that had tears pooling in Desiree's eyes, had her swiping at her cheeks. Then Claire turned to her handmaidens and began speaking in rapid Spriten. Saffra was too worried to be annoyed. Whatever Claire relayed to them, they lifted their chins, eyes darting about the room, then nodded and gave some sort of assent in the same language. Instructions, probably, similar to those Claire had given her. Claire tuned to Jocelyn last and said, "You've always kept a level head, Joce. They'll need it."

"Of course, my queen." Jocelyn stepped forward and pulled Claire into a hug. It was brief, but as they pulled away, they held each other's gazes, something passing between them, before Claire stepped away.

She turned to the crowd that watched from a distance, and said with a lifted voice, "Our injured will be in good hands—I am certain of it. I am trusting you with their lives. Today, your strength will be tested. You may not be on the front lines of the battle, but your mind and body will fight all the same, a different kind of fight, but one just as important. Our people will rely on you in a way they haven't before. You will make Dragonwall proud. Thank you, in advance, for your service to your kingdom."

And then Claire did something that made her people gasp. She bowed low. Everyone in the room gaped, eyes widening. A moment later, their queen rose and strode from the hall, her guard tightly packed around her.

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐

Happy Friday, Bookdragons!

Gosh, I'm making everyone nervous with all this lead up to the battle, all these foreshadowing hints, etc. Sorry! I let everyone off easy in the dragon battle that wasn't a battle, at the beginning of the book. I can promise you the ending will definitely be more intense. Have I lulled you into a false sense of calm?

And on that note...I'm off to write the next chapter which is from Claire's POV. Hope you have a great weekend/week and I'll see you Friday.

-Mel