Champion of Fire & Ice - Megan Derr Page 0,23

quest challenge. One down, two to go.

CHAPTER FIVE

The worst part of anything was the waiting. There were people who swore anticipation was the ultimate high, and maybe in some respects it was—certainly sex benefited from it—but for the most part, Davrin hated the waiting.

He could do it, better than most in fact. His job often relied on outwaiting the other party. Patience was everything in diplomacy; it was also a lot of hurry up and wait. So he'd mastered the skill.

That didn't mean he'd ever learned to enjoy it.

Especially the waiting that came after receiving a dire message. Like that his champion and secret love of his life had learned the reason for Castle Bone's silence was a lindworm. Davrin never thought he'd wish for a day when he heard the cause of a problem was plague, but well, that day was here.

The message had said to take no action until further word was received—or not received, in three full sunrises—which did not make the waiting less maddening. Not in the slightest. Davrin had not been able to sleep since he'd been summoned to Her Highness's public chambers and informed of the message.

All he'd been able to do was keep vigil, pausing occasionally to recite prayers he barely recalled and most often could not care less about.

The snow had resumed around sunrise, muffling the world like a blanket and likely slowing the progress of further messengers or, gods willing, Cimar and Lee.

A lindworm. What were the chances of that? It took no small effort to get from human to lindworm. What poor bastard had made that journey, and how many people had died at its end? Davrin could only be grateful answering those questions was not his problem.

He watched, fingers gripping the railing tightly, as a slight figure on an enormous plow horse was let through the portcullis and made their way quickly up the road to the keep proper. As hastily as snow and hidden ice permitted at any rate.

What would some farm boy be doing coming all the way here on a day like this? Bringing a message? But of what? Davrin did not dare get his hopes up. Instead he dismissed the farm boy and kept his eyes further afield, ever hoping to see a familiar figure appear in the lazily falling snow, likely battered and bruised but alive. Or maybe they'd had the sense to not try to take on the lindworm after all and had made a strategic retreat. It would take a full force, or several large, well-trained shifters, to take on a lindworm. Even someone like Grayne, his hellhound form so enormous one paw would dwarf Davrin's head, would struggle. It would take several hellhounds, or something as rare as a cockatrice or dragon, and even they would need a large dose of luck.

The sound of footsteps in his chambers drew his attention, and he turned sharply, annoyed with himself for failing to notice the knocking. A servant wearing Korena's crest curtsied. "Beg pardon, Lord Dweller-by-the-Sea, but Her Highness bid me fetch you to her chambers with all haste."

Davrin's heart kicked up. Could the farmer on the horse have been related to Cimar after all? It seemed too good to be true. "Of course." He strode into his room, closing the doors to the balcony behind him and locking them, brushing off snow as he went over to the vanity table near his bed. There, he picked up the ring he'd been intending to wear to dinner that night. May as well wear it now, and gods did he hope he was making the right decision.

His heart hurt at the way Cimar would be really and truly lost to him forever, but even if there had ever really been a chance for them, a chance Cimar returned his affections, some things were simply more important, no matter how unfair that seemed.

Ready, he followed the servant through the halls, to where she predictably stopped at the door to Korena's smaller public receiving room, where she received nobles, important guests, and others of rank. She escorted him inside and left him there—alone, surprisingly. There was no sign at all that Korena had been or would be there. She must have been abruptly called away to something else, or not yet been able to escape. But then why not send a message? Another servant?

A soft creak interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see one of the paintings on the far wall swing open, revealing the