The Warlords of the Wilds

Adelia had no idea where the blood was stored, if it was still within the confines of the keep or if it might have gotten transported somewhere else, the keep just functioning as a gathering point for the containers.

After waking up a little later than she had liked after her late evening, she had used what moments of free time she had to look for the containers. She didn't venture into anyone's private rooms, of course, but either way so far she hadn't found anything. Not in the pantry or the various storage rooms and the root cellar had similarly not yielded any results.

She had even visited the dungeon, finding it empty and clean but terribly cold and a lot smaller than she had expected. There were only three cells, the iron of the bars coated in silver, to her surprise.

She couldn't help but remember the monster that had crash-landed on her balcony all those months ago and she frowned a little to herself. The Wilds were known for having monsters, but were they so rampant that warlords required warded, special cells?

She hadn't seen a single monster since coming here and she had thought that the rumors about the Wilds being monster-infested had been thoroughly exaggerated. There were some monsters, sure, the fact that Sorceress Iva had access to giant hair said as much, but she had thought they were kept away from human civilizations.

She might have to reconsider her assumptions yet again.

She left the dungeons, wondering where the blood might be stored. She hadn't seen so much as a hint that anyone was being hidden in the keep, either, so far. Though, it would make sense if Lord Morrow kept someone curse-afflicted in a separate location. He had a mage for quick transportation and nightmares who could carry him through entire towns in mere heartbeats.

There was no need to endanger the keep's staff when he could keep the cursed person or the monster he was taking care of in a cave somewhere, sealed off by magic. She had heard stories about secret labs and hidden homes before, so surely it wasn't an impossibility.

On the other hand, it would make equal sense for him to hide the blood in his suite if he was the afflicted one and despite her desire to know what was going on, Adelia balked at the idea of grossly invading his privacy like that.

She had hated it when her father had entered her bedroom to poke through her things, saying he was just making sure she wasn't getting corrupted by anything. He had only stopped two years ago and she had been deeply relieved by that.

Hiding her fledgling inventions from him had been a constant cat and mouse game that she was glad to no longer play, though she had never stopped being careful and cautious.

There was no way she was going to do the same thing to Lord Morrow.

The staff, when she tried to ask if the keep had any secret passages or additional storage rooms, knew nothing. Or if they did, they didn't tell her.

When she took a break to eat lunch, Ada joined her and Adelia asked her if the cook had heard about anyone getting cursed in recent years.

"If you're worried about curses, it's best to speak to Iva," Ada said with a reassuring smile. "She'll be able to deal with them in no time."

"Can she undo all curses?" Adelia asked in surprise and Ada grinned, toothy and a little sharp.

"She is the best," the cook said with a confident nod. "There were a couple of curses around because of the old warlord, he liked to torment people with them and she undid them all. People often request her aid whenever they think curses are involved. So don't you worry, if you ever think something untoward is going on, she can fix it."

Adelia mulled over that for the rest of the meal and when she met Sorceress Iva in the corridor on her way to Steward Lambrecht's office, the sorceress confirmed that she was, indeed, very adept at undoing curses.

"It's not all that complicated truth be told," Iva said with a small shrug, a golden shine to her long, recently unbraided-again hair that shimmered like rays of sunlight had gotten woven into her tight curls. "Why? Are you worried someone is going to curse you?"

"Oh, no, it just came up in conversation and made me think. Thank you for indulging me," Adelia said with a small, polite dip of her head and Sorceress Iva smiled at her, the wrinkles on her face making her look warm and friendly and like she had enjoyed her life a lot and continued to enjoy it.

"Of course, don't hesitate to ask me about anything. I've been living in the Wilds long enough that I know just about any remedy to the nonsense these people can come up with." She chuckled wryly to herself. "The folks here can be foolhardy more often than not."

They parted ways when Sorceress Iva made her promise to drop by her tower for tea later in the week and Adelia gladly accepted. She found herself frowning softly and thoughtfully as she walked away, however. If curses weren't involved, then what was all that blood for?

It was quite the puzzle, though when she reached Steward Lambrecht's office, he told her that supplicants had arrived a little while ago and she got so wrapped up in dealing with the problems they brought forth that she completely had to put the bloody mystery out of her mind for the time being.

In the next few days she was busy enough that she regretfully couldn't dedicate much time to the topic at all, either. She had to set the sentient monster book aside in favor of her duties and planning a party worthy of warlords.

While her husband muttered that he should serve nothing but dry hardtack and stale water to ensure the meddling busybodies among his colleagues refrained from visiting him unnecessarily ever again, she could tell that he was merely jesting.

In fact, he smiled at her like she was something special when she threw him a dry look and told her he'd check the storage rooms for decorations later and would speak with Ada about hiring extra help for a proper feast, so they could present a party she could be rightly proud of hosting.

It was easy to forget in these moments that he was at the center of the mystery she sought to unravel.

Every morning she checked her boxes for letters from her friends and when there were any, she penned her answers while the sun rose. In the afternoons, she took care of the complaints and concerns that the people brought before her, requesting justice or aid or a fair ruling. Steward Lambrecht was readily at her side, offering his knowledge and advice if she requested it.

It seemed that the two farmers she had helped had talked quite a bit, for suddenly people showed up more and more, asking for a moment of her time. Some even traveled to the keep from surrounding towns and villages.

A married couple was already waiting in the throne room this afternoon, looking excited and curious and hopeful. The throne room itself was probably the blandest one Adelia had ever seen, though granted, King Harold's had been ostentatious even by the standards of the nobility.

Two pillars stood to frame the large stone dais that held the two thrones and the thrones themselves were made of dark wood and they looked to be quite old. They were decorated with delicate and intricate carvings, but there was no gold, no jewels, nothing glimmering and glittering about them and even the satin covering the cushions was a simple, dark, and bloody red.

Something about the plainness of the room was strangely reassuring, however, and her husband had told her that he hosted his parties in here as well, since the room easily worked as a ballroom as well.

As Adelia got settled in, ready to hear out the couple, she turned towards Steward Lambrecht. "My husband, does he usually not hear out his people in person?"

"He makes time in the evening when possible," Steward Lambrecht explained quietly. "Master Rowan is quite busy during the day, after all. I have only taken care of a few cases when immediate aid was required. The rest of his people send him letters."

Steward Lambrecht offered her a slightly apologetic smile. "Which is one of the reasons why our people are so appreciative of you. They should settle down again soon and, truth be told, they are also rather curious about their new lady. You have impressed them quite a bit so far."

"Then I best continue making a good impression," she murmured back and straightened to wave the couple closer and greet them, ready to do her best. The couple was sweet and when they showed her receipts that the local trading guild had stiffed them, Adelia promised them to see the guild dealt with and their money returned to them.

Adelia felt a bloom of pride whenever she was able to help and Steward Lambrecht was swift in aiding her when she shifted slightly towards him, quietly telling her everything he knew about the people in front of her or where they were from, and otherwise he was content to sit back and let her speak. He seemed quite satisfied with the decisions she had made so far.

Once the last person was seen to, she and Steward Lambrecht took a moment to organize their busy days to clear two days per week for the problems of the people.

It allowed her to free up time to take care of all the other tasks on her plate, especially since she both wanted to solve the mystery presented to her and to work on clockwork inventions again.

In the evening Adelia met with Lord Morrow and she realized that the mere sight of him now made her smile, her heart feeling warm and light in her chest.

They sat down in his office after dinner, Adelia noticed the very official looking letter atop of his correspondence pile. He frowned as the grabbed it, swiftly ripping it open and reading the contents, only to sigh.

"It seems we have to readjust our party plans," he said as he handed her the letter. "The other annoyances have complaints about our winter shindig. Well, most of them are annoyances."

The letter was indeed a uniform information, not a request or even a demand, a straight up fact-telling, that the warlords would show up in a week and they'd show up towards the evening, along with a list of favored dishes they expected to be served. They had utterly ignored the winter party invitations Adelia and her husband had sent out.

It was only polite to send invitations ahead of time so everyone could organize their busy days in time and so they could plan the party without cutting it close.

If anyone had done such a thing back home, there would have been severe consequences. About the only one who could dare to do such a thing was the king and even he was limited in how far he could push the other nobles. Upset and disgruntled allies were never a good thing, after all.

No one seemed to be worried about that here. Clearly.

Adelia couldn't help but feel baffled and then quite concerned when she realized that Lord Morrow had every intention of doing as the letter demanded.

"Can we get everything set up in time?" she asked, setting the letter down so she wouldn't fidget with it. "There are so many preparations -"

She stopped when Lord Morrow laid a gentle, light hand on her lower arm, giving her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, a week is plenty enough time," he said, voice certain and calming. "Ada and the others already know how to make those dishes and Iva can get us any ingredients we don't have here easily enough. The decorations will be set up overnight by the night guard and we have musicians in town we can hire even on such short notice."

"You are welcome to help organize everything with me," he continued as he sat back, removing his hand and Adelia was only peripherally aware of the fact that his hand had not felt warm through the glove and the sleeve of her dress. "Or you can leave it to me entirely, I've been dealing with my fellow warlords for a couple of years now."

"I would like to help," Adelia said. The thought of not having a hand in aiding Lord Morrow with whatever tasks she could felt wrong to her.

She very much liked that he so easily allowed her to be a part of his duties, that she could do good for the people who trusted Lord Morrow and now her, too, to look after them. She also, quietly, appreciated that he never expected her aid, that he always gave her the option to step back and remove herself from a task or situation.

He offered a smile that was a little wider, a little toothier, revealing a hint of his fangs. She wondered if she should ask him about them. "Then I will gladly welcome the help," he said. "Come, we best inform Lam about our change of plans right away."

He rose and offered her a hand, which Adelia accepted gladly, his grip steady and gentle. He got the door for her and on the way to Steward Lambrecht's office, he answered whatever questions popped into her mind about the upcoming party and the warlords.

"Anyone I should be especially wary of?" she asked and he turned serious.

"Avoid Alexzander, he is rotten to the core. And if Miriam gives you trouble, let me know and I'll speak with her. The rest are mayhaps strange and unique characters, but they are mostly good people. Annoying and headstrong and not always pleasant, but they do take good care of their lands."

She wondered how strange those people would be in person if Lord Morrow considered them odd. He was, in her personal opinion, plenty unusual himself. Not in a bad way, not at all, she preferred him exactly as he was, but he certainly did not fit in back home. No wonder he had always kept his distance from the other nobility whenever he had accepted one of King Harold's invitations.

Steward Lambrecht did not seem surprised by the news when they told him.

"Winters are fierce here," he said with his usual calm poise. "No one wishes to leave their home unless they have to. Very well, I shall let the staff know in the morning. Provide me with a list of everything that needs taking care of and it will get done. I will also ensure additional staff is hired as needed to take care of any additional chores."

"Thank you," Lord Morrow said with a glad smile. "We'll let you retire for the night now, don't stay up too late."

"Certainly," Steward Lambrecht said with a small wave and a tone that said he was going to go to bed whenever he pleased and not a moment earlier. It made Adelia smile a little, especially when Lord Morrow gave his friend a very pointed look, only to get stared back at placidly until he gave up with a fond sigh.

They returned to Lord Morrow's office and quickly took care of the rest of their tasks before they threw themselves into planning the party. Letters were drafted for artists in Ravenburg, asking if they could perform in a week's time and new invitations for the warlords were written to fit the new date. Lord Morrow got up for a moment, fetching the book used to keep track of their inventory.

He went over the catalogued decorations they had in storage and together they set up a theme of warm yellow decorations and banners and her husband reassured her that Sorceress Iva would get them flowers from warmer countries.

"We have a standing trade-deal with one of the summer isles," he explained. "As long as we inform them ahead of time, they'll happily supply us."

With that taken care of, they turned towards the topic of food next, Lord Morrow writing down what dishes went well with his fellow warlords. He would hand the list to Ada, who always organized and decided the final menu herself, ensuring it was the best it could be.

"My annoying colleagues are mainly going to show up because they want to meet you anyway," Lord Morrow said, after they called it a night when Adelia couldn't hold back a jaw-cracking yawn. She truly wondered how he didn't feel tired after being busy all day long. "Please forgive them for any weird gifts they bring."

"Should we have any gifts for them in return?" Adelia asked and he barked out a laugh.

"Absolutely not, we're already feeding them and they're here to celebrate our marriage." He glanced at her as he offered his arm upon leaving his office. "But none of us are born nobles, so everyone is going to come with gifts they consider appropriate. Like daggers. There are probably going to be a lot of daggers."

Adelia didn't expect that she'd get to keep any of those weapons, but they might be good additions for the armoury at the very least.

Lord Morrow wished her a good night when they reached her rooms and even though Adelia tried to read at least a little more of the sentient monster book, she fell asleep within the first two lines that introduced banshees.

*.*.*

The following week passed in a blur of preparations, taste-testing the dishes that were being prepared and helping run her husband's lands and household.

She went and picked up her order from the smithy as well and while she was incredibly happy to see the high quality work the women made, praising them and getting beaming grins in return, she had to set her clockwork creations aside with a feeling of regret.

There simply wasn't any time in her schedule left for tinkering.

Still, a part of her felt lighter and brighter upon shelving the small boxes of metal screws and gears, wires and plating, the smiths kind enough to package everything nicely. She would absolutely keep commissioning them, they had a very fine talent for their craft.

And now, for the first time in her life, she would be able to create freely.

There was no fear about being found out, because Lord Morrow already knew. There was no need to fear her father, either, because he was far, far away from here.

Her father would never again be able to hurt her like he had in the past. He would never again be able to take a beloved animal companion from her.

Sometimes Adelia dreamed of her sweet horse, of the way her gelding had looked at her, warm and trusting, how he had listened to the softest of guiding touches. The way he had loved to nuzzle his soft nose into the crook of her neck and very gently put just a bit of his weight on her shoulder, his entire being relaxing with soft contentment.

She had loved him so much that sometimes she found herself unable to breathe through the grief for long, terrible seconds.

Her father would also never again be able to banish dear mentors who had been nothing but kind to her. She really hoped the blacksmith was doing well for himself, but she knew the reality of craftspeople who were tossed out by a noble without any recommendations.

It would be hard for the blacksmith to find work and nearly impossible to find work that paid him fairly. Perhaps she could write a letter and find out what had become of him. She wished to apologize, at the very least. Perhaps, if the man wasn't too upset with her, she might be able to invite him into the Wilds and ensure he got to work here, instead.

Still, despite knowing she could work freely, she kept everything cleaned up and all her sketches and newly acquired material neatly put away, so it was impossible to even get a glimpse of what she wanted to work on next. She couldn't quite shake the habit of keeping the things she loved most tucked out of sight.

The day of the party came upon her quickly and after she had gotten ready for the day, she took a peek into the throne room to see it had gotten fully decorated over night.

Yellow and blue banners spanned the ceiling and embroidered tapestries draped down the walls, showing rearing unicorns, winding, flying dragons, swooping griffins, towering giants and a pack of wolves running through a sunny forest.

Sturdy wooden tables were already set and decorated with blue and yellow tablecloths, waiting for platters with food and jugs and carafes filled with drinks to be placed upon them.

Someone had gotten tall vases set up around the room, as well, ready for the flowers that would be delivered today.

A small, simple wooden stage had been set up at the side for the hired bards and there was plenty of space for mingling and dancing. While there were only eight warlords, there were more people to invite to stay polite.

Besides, the warlords who were in relationships were likely to bring their partners along and many would be accompanied by their right hands or second in commands or their mages, at times all three.

Adelia made a mental note to ask Steward Lambrecht to deliver her thanks to the night guard, they must've worked tirelessly to get everything set up so beautifully overnight.

The kitchen was a bustling hubbub and Ada was rather apologetic that she didn't have time to chat while a kitchen aid swiftly assembled breakfast for her. Adelia reassured her that it was all quite alright and made sure she was out of the way as she ate.

Before she could so much as offer a hand when she was done, the plate was whisked from her hands by Vera, the frail looking young woman ushering her out of the kitchen with soft-spoken but firm kindness.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of checking things over to ensure it was all going well, signing off on last minute pastry deliveries and telling the arriving band of bards what music ought to be played throughout the evening.

Flowers came in a large wagon, delivered from the summer isles with the aid of Sorceress Iva's magic, since no flowers still bloomed in the Wilds, not with how close winter was.

Some of the delivered bouquets were so large she could barely fit her arms around them. They were made of gorgeous blue and purple flowers, sprigs with bursts of tiny white blooms tucked between.

With the flowers delivered, Adelia discovered that bouquets weren't the only thing on the wagon. Woven flower garlands had been brought over as well and they were swiftly hung above windows and wound around the four pillars of the throne room, before the rest got strung across the ceiling, adding to the banners already present.

Sorceress Iva briefly breezed by, as well, to toss some glittering dust into the air that made the flowers glow and shimmer ever so faintly, making them look magical and like they had been taken from a fairy forest straight out of a storybook.

Steward Lambrecht was a calm constant at Adelia's side, aiding her with whatever needed to be done and by the time evening rolled around, the staff was flitting about the throne room, lighting candles and hanging up mage stone lanterns and everything was swept and washed and polished one last time.

Just as the sun had set, Lord Morrow appeared at her side, looking as finely dressed as he always did when she had seen him during balls and banquets back home.

Adelia had done her best to dress in his colors, choosing her only red and gold dress, a secret indulgence that she hadn't been able to wear to court with her father insisting she be clad in the colors of his house. Her hair was carefully braided and pinned up and she was doing her best to push down her restless nerves.

Her parents would have told her that she had no reason to be nervous, she was hosting quite the lavish affair for a bunch of barbarians, after all, and those people would hardly need more than the bare bones of courtesy.

Adelia, however, was of a different opinion. These were Lord Morrow's peers and friends and a number more people would arrive, all of them important in their own right. She was going to do her very best to leave a good impression on them and to be an impeccable host.

"Is everything alright?" Lord Morrow asked quietly. "If you do not wish to meet them, you don't have to attend. Or you can leave whenever you want if this event becomes tiring."

The very thought felt utterly scandalous to Adelia, though a part of her began to suspect that the warlords might not even take offense to that. Either that or Lord Morrow would be able to smooth down any ruffled feathers.

"No, I wish to meet them," she said just as she heard the large entrance doors getting pulled open and someone loudly announcing an arrival.

"Oh, it's June," Lord Morrow murmured and offered his arm. "She's our direct neighbor to the south-east. Shall we?"

The woman who stepped into the throne room moved with such an effortless elegance and downright eerie weightlessness that she seemed to float. Her dress was made of some kind of light, sheer, pale lavender fabric and so layered that her shape was a ghostly outline at best beneath it. It certainly had the effect that it added something almost ghostly to her floating weightlessness.

Adelia found herself strangely reminded of Vera for a split second, for the woman looked delicate in a way that almost made her seem frail. Lady June's hair was fine and long, and of a shimmering black, with a small white-gold crown delicately set upon her head.

She smiled as though she knew secrets no one else did and when she spoke, her voice was melodic, "Thank you for welcoming me in your home. I am June, it is a pleasure to meet the one who stole our esteemed Rowan's heart."

Adelia curtsied as elegantly as she had been taught, though she was sure she had done no stealing of anything whatsoever. "The honor is mine, Lady June."

"Oh none of that my dear," Lady June said with a smile. "I am not of noble blood and I won my seat as warlord fair and square."

Adelia wondered if Lady June had become a warlord like Lord Morrow, if she had gone up and defeated someone, proving her worth, and had continued to do so since.

It would have been hard to imagine, if Lady June hadn't carried a certain... air about her. Something that made Adelia forget that her body looked so very delicate and that she spoke like she'd rather be singing.

A quiet but by no means understated or fragile power surrounded the woman like a silent warning, a steady, calm knowledge that she could take on anyone. As though she danced with death in her free time and got it coming back for more.

"Rowan," Lady June turned to Lord Morrow in greeting, her smile taking on a cheeky, toothy quality. "I see you've finally given your heart away." She glanced at Adelia, her expression softening and her eyes seemed strangely brighter for a moment. "And what a fine choice you made."

"Thank you, June," Lord Morrow said, his right hand briefly covering Adelia's where it rested in the crook of his left elbow. "I'm surprised, though, to see you alone here tonight."

Lady June shrugged, a fluid, graceful motion that felt just a little too graceful for a moment. Adelia couldn't help but think that the warlord was strange in a way she couldn't put a finger on.

"My dear lovers have been soundly asleep when I got ready to leave. I couldn't bear to wake them, but they might join us later." She glanced over her shoulder when the front doors of the keep were opened yet again, the doorman's voice calling out.

"Don't be strangers, you two darlings." With those words Lady June moved on, floating and light and with nary a sound.

The people who arrived next were not warlords, but other important people around the wilds. Back home, it was considered polite to arrive in order of station and any additional guests either came with the noble family that had brought them or they arrived last.

Adelia met mages and alchemists, two surgeons who had revolutionized the field with their work over the past few years and a couple of rich folk who had helped Lord Morrow rebuild his lands.

Then a man appeared, handsome at first glance, his dark hair artfully tousled and his pale skin carrying a faint, rosy flush that made him appear healthy and lively, his blue eyes bright and watchful.

He was dressed in flowing mage robes of dark blue with silver embroidery that shimmered and glittered like stars had gotten ground to dust and scattered all across him.

Lord Morrow shifted at her side, a tiny, subtle motion she only noticed because her hand was still tucked into his elbow. All of a sudden, a silent sense of danger curled through the air and she couldn't help but remember that terrifying ball where Lord Morrow had saved her from dancing with Lord Emmertal. He had felt just as dangerous then, too.

"Alexzander," Lord Morrow greeted the man curtly, his voice so icy it made her still and a subtle glance up showed a dark intensity on his face. Like a predator watching a snake that was about to strike. "You are earlier than I expected."

"You got married, old friend, of course I had to arrive as soon as I could." Alexzander's voice was light and pleasant, his smile charming and his eyes twinkled as he turned to her, Lord Morrow shifting ever so slightly at her side again.

Adelia noticed the way Lord Alexzander's smile widened ever so faintly, as though he had waited for and had wanted that exact reaction from her husband. He swept into an elegant, deep bow, the kind Adelia knew would have made ladies back home giggle and smile in flattered delight.

She put her best smile on her face, the one her mother had taught her thoroughly and carefully. A lady's best defense and greatest weapon, she had called it. As if ladies could be armed and armored by the way they moved their mouth. Adelia had never felt like a smile protected her from anything but her parents' wrath.

Right now, however, it did feel like a shield, a chance for her to gauge this man before her without giving anything away in return. Maybe this was what her mother had meant.

"My beautiful Lady Adelia, what an honor to meet you," Lord Alexzander greeted her and something about the way he said it rubbed her the wrong way, even though she couldn't put a finger on it. Something dark and oily coiled in her chest at his greeting, brought forth by sudden, repulsive discomfort.

"Seeing a star such as yourself in these dreary halls is a balm for the soul," Lord Alexzander continued as he straightened, not allowing her to get a word in edgewise.

There was something hidden and sharp to his smile now, a dark, ugly delight to his eyes as he very pointedly did not look at her husband. He kept his gaze firmly pinned on her instead as he added, "The gods know sunlight has not been a friend to our dear Rowan here for quite some time."

Lord Morrow stilled beside her and this time Lord Alexzander's gaze flickered to him, as did the gazes of other, nearby guests who clearly had been eavesdropping.

Lord Morrow's stillness caused the same effect like a blade against a throat, making everyone to stop and hold their breath for but a moment, before they exhaled. Adelia kept her smile on her face, dipping into a graceful curtsey without so much as shifting her hand from where it rested on Lord Morrow's arm.

She had no idea why Lord Alexzander had said what he had said, but it gave her a bad feeling. She was not going to show even the slightest hint of hesitation or vulnerability around this man.

"Light shines in many places, Lord Alexzander, though I heard people must be present to see it. We welcome you to our luminous home this fine evening," she answered, as polite and sweet as her mother had taught her, as her father had demanded her to be, as Tirn had expected her to be, as her kingdom had forced her to be.

As polite and sweet as she now wanted to be, as she added, "I am certain this will be an enlightening evening for you and good company awaits us, still."

This man was an enemy, every fiber of her being told her so. Even if Lord Morrow had not warned her of him, she wouldn't have trusted him. His smile and his gaze and the way he now grinned at her told her that nothing good would come from him.

There was a mocking gleam in his eyes, she realized, like he pitied her and thought her of meager intelligence.

"Whatever a lady demands, a lady shall get," Lord Alexzander said with one more sweeping bow, though this one was a little curter than the last. As he straightened, he glanced at Lord Morrow, who still stood very still. Like a statue, cold and unmoving. "Many would like to snatch up a lady like that, you are very lucky."

"Quite," Lord Morrow said, his voice freezing cold and low and there was a warning note that gave his words a dark quality. "Enjoy the food, Alexzander. Please do try to choke on it."

Lord Alexzander laughed like it was the greatest joke in the universe and he sauntered away with an amused wriggle of his fingers. "If you want an exciting evening, dear Rowan, you shall get it."

As soon as the man had joined the crowd, Lord Morrow exhaled, a subtle tension easing out of him and the danger surrounding him fading with it.

"You handled him better than I did," he said quietly, soft and wry. "Don't give him anything to use against you or he'll never stop trying to get under your skin. Ever since I found out he doesn't govern his lands well, he's been making pointed remarks to annoy me."

"I will watch myself," Adelia promised just as quietly, as though she hadn't already carefully weighing each and every word that left her mouth.

Lord Morrow beside her perked up all of a sudden and the smile that appeared on his face was quite friendly and welcoming as he nodded towards the door. "Please meet my best friend aside from Lam, Iris. She's the warlord of one of the south-western territories and far better company than that moron Alexzander."

Following his glance, Adelia saw a tall, dark skinned woman saunter into the throne room. She was muscular and carried herself in a wild, untamed manner, her curly hair held back by a green headband and it fell down her back in a thick mane.

Lady Iris was dressed similarly to Lord Morrow, her pants a soft creme color and her shirt a lovely green. She took off her coat to hand it to a footman who hurried to put it away, before she spotted them and headed towards them with a swift, confident stride.

A plain iron necklace of the moon goddess was clasped around her throat and when she smiled, there was a hint of fangs visible. Another enchantment perhaps? Maybe Lord Morrow and she had gotten them from the same mage.

"Rowan!" Lady Iris called out, warm and brightly friendly and with a small laugh in her voice. "And oh my, what a beautiful wife you have!" She swept into a downright playful bow, briefly surprising Adelia with a gesture she normally would have expected from a man. "If this old bat gives you any trouble, don't hesitate to come to me and I'll set him straight."

She was the second warlord to refer to Lord Morrow as a bat, was this some sort of inside joke Adelia wasn't privy to? If yes, she was rather curious as to the story behind it.

"Iris," Rowan said and his voice held a cautioning note that made his friend pause and glance at him. Adelia bore witness to a rapid, silent conversation between them consisting entirely of eyebrow movements and at last a deeply unimpressed expression on Lady Iris's face.

Lady Iris turned to Adelia, her smile still friendly but it held a slightly strained edge now. "Forgive me, I think I need to talk to my friend here for a second. Rowan, a word?"

To Adelia's surprise, Lord Morrow merely sighed softly before giving Adelia an apologetic look as he stepped aside with his best friend. They started talking the moment they were out of hearing range and from the looks of it, it was not the most pleasant of conversations.

Another name was announced and Adelia straightened, her heart beating a little faster as she turned to face yet another warlord, but this time without Lord Morrow at her side.

The heaviest sense of magic yet filled the air as Adelia watched a woman enter, shorter than Lady Iris but no less confident and no less imposing than Lord Morrow and Lord Ivan had been.

The woman had the stature and grace of a seasoned fencer and Adelia swore she breathed in the scent of the ocean, the other warlord moving at an unhurried pace and with an air as though life flowed in her wake like swirling currents.

Lady Miriam was easy to recognize after all of Lord Morrow's stories. The woman was dressed like a pirate captain, she even had a slender, elegant blade at her side and a sea-worn hat on her head.

Her brown hair shimmered like honey where it fell down her back in a long braid and her green eyes held a strange shine, like they were reflecting something otherworldly. Something deeper, something made of long forgotten magic. Something old.

As Lady Miriam approached, Adelia found herself unable to look away.

No, it was more than that, she physically couldn't look away, her ears filling with the faint, but slowly louder-growing sound of sails shifting in the wind and with each step of Lady Miriam's, she heard the groan and creak of the planks of a ship, of waves crashing against a hull, followed by the sharp cry o a seagull.

For a second it felt like it became hard to breathe. As though the ocean rushed in to fill the space all around her, waves about to drag her down, down, down and the otherworldly shine in Lady Miriam's eyes grew deeper and larger, like it wanted to consume her.

Like the world's entire ocean was yawning open, wide and endless within the warlord, it's gaping maw so wide it threatened to eat everything-

With a deep, harsh inhale, Adelia managed to finally wrench herself away from the feeling of the ocean about to consume her, the phantom feeling of a ship beneath her feet and when she swallowed, her saliva tasted of salt and brine.

Lady Miriam on the other hand looked pleased and quietly impressed and now that Adelia had dragged herself away from whatever magical influence the warlord had brought, she noticed a faint glow within the woman's chest, barely visible through her clothes.

It pulsed ever so slightly, like a heartbeat, and right where her shirt was open two buttons, a truly scandalous thing back home, it looked as though her heart was glowing through flesh and bone.

Lady Miriam stopped before her and Adelia noticed the grizzly scar across her throat, like someone had cut it deeply enough to sever her windpipe. It was the sort of wound no one should have been able to survive.

"You have a strong will, Lady Adelia," Lady Miriam said approvingly and her voice was unexpectedly quiet, but it carried an intensity that would have silenced the loudest of crowds had she cared to do so. "Apologies for the fright, I'm afraid there is nothing I can do about my presence."

"No need for apologies," Adelia said, though she was still reeling a little, her mouth tasting of the sea still. "I welcome you in our home, Lady Miriam."

"I'm no lady," Lady Miriam waved her off. "I'm a born and bred dock brat, birthed by the sea and swallowed by it and I will find my end in its waters one day." She smiled and it held an edge of something knowing, the shine in her eyes growing deeper and darker once more. "Though I have the advantage that I will likely get to choose my dying day. Like your husband."

Adelia had no idea how to respond to that. No one had ever spoken about death so brazenly and so unafraid, especially not back home. It wasn't a threat aimed at her or her husband, either, the tone was wrong for that and for all that Lady Miriam and Lord Morrow did not seem to get along, there was no malice in Lady Miriam's words.

"If death's grip can be avoided, that is hardly a bad thing," Adelia said at last and Lady Miriam's smile turned into a pleased little grin.

"I think I like you," she said, "You have some bite to you, I'd like to see if it's worse than Rowan's can be. Come talk to me after you've greeted everyone, if you like. Or accompany me now, waiting here for your guests looks terribly dull."

"I will find you later," Adelia promised, balking at the idea of abandoning her duty and Lady Miriam offered her a tip of her head, reaching up for a moment to touch the brim of her hat.

"I will await you." Lady Miriam sauntered past her, sword slightly clinking against a trinket on her belt as she headed straight for one of the food tables off to the side.

Adelia found herself exhaling with a rush, blinking as her mind was still busy catching up with Lady Miriam's entire presence. Her mouth tasted less like the sea now, but she swore, if she strained her senses, she could hear the creak of sails and wood in the very distance, the lapping of waves, calm and sedate now.

Lord Morrow returned just in time to greet the next warlord, a man so tall and massive that Adelia had to use every scrap of her decorum to not gawk at him.

"Cynar, half-giant," Lord Morrow whispered to her. "One of the sweetest people I know. He's Ivan's partner."

Cynar was indeed sweet and very soft spoken and polite. He smiled like all he wanted in life was gentleness and slow, leisurely days, his clothing simple but well made and he moved with thoughtfulness, as though he was more than aware of his big size and how easy it was for him to destroy something. That he wanted to avoid causing hurt and ruin whenever possible.

"And here is Ivan. Cynar and he are unofficially married," Lord Morrow murmured as Ivan entered with all the aplomb that Adelia had last seen from King Harold. His half naked chest with his sprawling tattoos was on full display and he wore a different set of white pants, with yellow suns embroidered along the bottom. "They can't get married unless one of them gives up their warlord position."

Adelia remembered reading about that in one of the books. Warlords were not allowed to share their territories with each other or to grow it by defeating another and claiming their lands.

Ivan's grin was slightly manic and he was a whirlwind of energy and honest compliments about Adelia looking radiant and the throne room prettier than ever, as he said his hello. By the time he moved on, a hand coming to rest on Cynar's thick wrist, Adelia felt unexpectedly invigorated and slightly like a particularly friendly force of nature had just blown through.

The last warlord arrived swiftly afterwards, a short, slim man by the name Kazuki who had a thoughtful and attentive way of speaking, a quiet strength and poise to his bearing and he seemed pleasant enough.

The rest of the guests trickled in within the next half an hour, each and everyone curious about her and by the time the last straggler had arrived, there were more people than Adelia had expected.

They mingled with their guests as soon as they no longer had anyone to greet, Adelia's hand ever faithful tucked into the crook of Lord Morrow's lower arm. She charmed everyone to the best of her abilities, smiling sweet and pretty and listening carefully, the way her mother had taught her.

Lady Iris was still openly friendly, but Adelia didn't miss the pointed looks she shot Lord Morrow and how he avoided her gaze. Lady Miriam was busy chatting with Ivan and Cynar, so Adelia decided to try to speak with her later when she was less busy.

"Just a moment," Lord Morrow said when it looked like a mage and surgeon were getting into a too heated discussion about the best method to heal tumors. Their voices were rising and they started to look genuinely angry with and insulted by each other.

Lord Morrow left her side and Adelia took a moment to step away and take a breath, finding a somewhat secluded corner of the throne room as she pretended to look over some snacks that were arranged artistically on a table set up there.

"I see the hovering bat has decided to release you from his clutches for now," Alexzander's voice made her turn around just as he sauntered up to her side, a drink held delicately in his fine-fingered hand, bejeweled rings glinting in the light. He flicked his free hand, a little shimmer of magic going through the air. "Now we can talk without anyone overhearing us."

She did not like that. What did he want to say that he didn't want anyone else to hear? She felt her spine stiffen, but she kept her shoulders loose, her hands relaxed and her mouth soft to avoid giving off that he unsettled her.

"My lord husband has been so kind as to introduce me properly to everyone who arrived, so I experienced no hovering whatsoever," Adelia said with all the polite grace she had ever been taught, watching him carefully. "I hope our fine selection of food and drinks agrees with you."

"Oh, our dear Rowan has always been generous with his offerings," Alexzander said with a smile that looked wrong to her.

She didn't much care for how he spoke of her husband, either, or the downright disregarding tone towards the hard work of the kitchen staff. He was neither a king nor a queen and yet he spoke of the offered refreshments like they were tribute being paid to him.

"I will let the staff know their dedication and skill is being appreciated," Adelia said, already calculating how she might get away from him without giving offense or making it seem like she was running away.

It was clear Alexzander had not come here to have a genuine, proper conversation with her. No, he was poking and prodding and looking for answers she might accidentally give. Answers to what she couldn't say, but he clearly had ulterior motives.

"I do wonder what our favorite leech has done to make someone as beautiful and sweet as you fall for him," Alexzander mused and she did not like the way he had said 'favorite leech'. It had been mocking and condescending and she felt something bubble up within her that she hadn't felt in quite a while, not like this.

She was getting angry and she felt unexpectedly protective, as well. Lord Morrow was a good man. He tried to make her laugh at least once a night, he was gentle and kind and patient and he dedicated himself so fully to making things better for everyone. His people loved him and were loyal to him, which was more than most nobles she knew could claim.

And here was this man, who treated his own lands and people badly, who had arrived in her new home in a manner that told her he considered himself to be something better than everyone else. Who had not said a single nice thing that he meant and she knew, down to her very core, that he was lying in wait.

She had no idea what he wanted to strike for, but he was looking for something. He wanted something from her and she would not give it to him.

"Oh, looks like I struck a nerve," he said, an amused lilt to his voice and Adelia realized that she had straightened and shifted to face him fully. "Aw, no need to get so defensive, it's all in good humor, isn't it? Don't worry, I won't make you bleed like your husband does."

The last words were said with a sharp glint in his eyes and Adelia must've given some of subtle reaction at his words despite her best efforts, for he paused, head tipping to the side. The smile that spread over his face was full of ugly delight.

"Oh, you poor thing, you don't know, do you?" he mused and Adelia held onto her composure by the skin of her teeth. No one had spoken to her with such open condescension, with such mocking sweetness, in a long time. Like she was a fool and he delighted in her pitiful state. "He hasn't told you anything, has he?"

"You may use all the vague words you like, Lord Alexzander," Adelia said, doing her best to sound as calm and collected and unaffected as her mother, as Queen Nina always did when someone tried to tease gossip out of her. "There are no secrets between a husband and his wife."

"He's never warm, isn't he?" he said and he continued before she could answer, looking like he was enjoying this more and more. "Tell me, don't you find it strange that he's only ever around after the sun sets?"

Lord Alexzander – no, this man did not deserve the title of lord, at least not within her own head – had stepped closer with each word and Adelia stomped down on the urge to back up. This was her home, if she allowed him to intimidate her here, he'd win this game he was playing.

With a little flick of his wrist, he produced a cloth wrapped stone out of thin air, tossing it at her and she just barely managed to catch it.

"A little gift, for something as pretty as you," he said. "Why don't you show it to him? And before you try to give it back to me like a good, brainless little wife, just tell me this, have you seen the blood he drinks?"

Adelia stilled despite herself and he noticed it immediately, his smile growing sharp. "I don't know what you mean," she said and she bit back a wince at how unconvincing she sounded to her own ears. She hated how easily this man crawled beneath her skin, with a gaze sharper than most nobles back home, not missing so much as a tiny twitch of her muscles.

"Maybe check his wine sometime," Alexzander said and stepped back, looking like the conversation was over now that he had gotten something out of her after all. "Think about it, you're surely not half as stupid as you look."

He sauntered away with those words and Adelia stared after him, her fingers curling around the cloth wrapped stone, his words settling like heavily into her mind.