Page 121 of The Keeper of the Kingdoms

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” I assured him, pressing my forehead to his. “We are more than blood.”

“Forever deeper than the path the Goddess put us on,” he finished the old saying.

He pulled away slightly and looked me up and down. “You’re okay?”

“I’m good, brother.”

He glanced at Kiera, who stood watching with a smile

“You’re better than good, I think. A mate and a ryder? What are the chances?”

“Well, if I’d stayed here, absolutely zero. The Goddess clearly intended for me to leave and find her on the outside.”

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” he said wistfully, suggesting what I’d already wondered.

“Indeed. Our paths take us where they must.”

He released me and gripped my shoulder, really assessing me. “Maybe you should share some of that wealth.”

“It looks like I can’t. The elders won’t let me go back.” I met his eyes, saying more in silence than I said out loud.

He nodded, understanding. “So what’s it like out there?

I blew out a breath. “Everything and nothing like they say it is.”

“And the threat you left to assess?”

“Worse than we imagined and creeping closer to our borders every day,” I said truthfully.

He turned solemn. “That’s what Augustus and Xavi said, butwithout you, the council wouldn’t listen. They counted you as lost and closed the subject.”

I huffed. “I think they wish I’d stayed lost, too. But I’m back, and I intend to try and make them listen.”

“To what end?” Drystan had always been more practical than I.

I looked to Kiera, and she nodded. She was happy to accept Drystan as one of our trusted the same way Gran was.

“Come sit,” I said. “I’ll make tea.”

“Tea? I think this calls for a raid on your ale stores, Jaxus. I’ll accept nothing less.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he descended into the house.

“Are you telling me I’ve been gone for half a year, declared lost, and my ales stores are still intact? Goddess, come to think of it, I’m shocked the house is still habitable.”

“I never doubted you’d return.” He took a seat, crossing an ankle over one knee. He’d aged five years in six months, which meant there was more going on here than what he let on.

I poured ale into mugs, chilled from the rock face it was stored in, and we drank. “I’ve missed this taste.” I sighed. “Ale in the First Kingdom is never this cold and crisp.”

Kiera agreed, seeming to enjoy the difference.

“So apart from bad ale, give me more? Are you tight-lipped on purpose? How are the cities? The fae?” Drystan pressed.

“It’s not the same as we’ve learned, that’s for sure. It’s?—”

“Primitive?” he suggested, then caught Kiera’s face. “Sorry.”

She giggled. “No, it’s fine.”

“It’s in no way primitive. It’s barren.”

---