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Aunty Clara pulled back the curtain peering at the sky. “The sun is going down; you should go home before it gets dark. It’s not good to walk in the dark by yourself, you know.”
Faye stood, giving the old woman another hug. “I’ll see you next month. Send one of the older ones if you need me sooner.”
Aunty Clara waved at her. “I’m okay. Stop worrying. And take some food home. You’re so skinny. It’s not good to be too skinny, you know.”
The children followed her to the gate of the property before running back to the house to wash their hands for dinner. Aunty Clara stood on the porch watching her until she was past the bend in the road, out of sight. Faye smiled, making her way back to her cottage.
She would set out her herbs on the drying rack and turn in early tonight. The sun began to set over the forest, casting long shadows as Faye walked.
The breeze shifted the treetops making the shadows sway at her feet. Memory of his dark gaze and different shadows filled her mind. He saw her, cherished her in spite of what she lacked.
Faye pushed the image away, ignoring the soft feelings that bloomed in her. She wouldn’t allow herself to linger on useless fantasies. Not when reality dug its claws into her day after day. Reminding her of the pain that awaited her if she continued down this path.
Men like him didn’t exist, not for women like her.
Chapter four
Arestlessemotionhehadn’t felt since his fledgling years rose in his chest. The corner of his mouth lifted. He was anxious to meet his night breeze. Longed to wake up next to her. Rune glanced at the undisturbed sheets on the empty side of his bed. He found himself curious if she would curl to him in her sleep as she had in the dreams. Or would he wake to find her sleeping on her side, with his sheets low on her waist?
He imagined brushing the backs of his fingers over her bare back, already missing the feel of her soft skin. Rune thought back to the dreams that weren’t dreams at all. Her mental tether connected their minds, allowing her to visit him while he slept. He eased his senses over it, not wanting to disturb her if she was still asleep. He withdrew at the first touch of her mental barriers.
The Ra’Voshnik was strangely calm, satisfied for the time being. Or until it roused enough to realize she was now gone. Spending time with her pacified the creature, but his body didn’t fare as well. He was strung too tight. Taut and anxious for… he didn’t know. He had no words for what he felt. The strain, while not entirely unpleasant, was certainly uncomfortable.
Rune rose, making his way to the shower.
He stepped under the water, letting the hot water sluice over his back. His thoughts seemed to always circle back to her. Questions one after the other. What was she doing now? Did his queen have a court of her own or belong to an established one.
He imagined her speaking to her queen, requesting permission to invite him to court. Would her queen believe her when she confessed, she snared the Shadow Prince? He had much to discuss with his secretive night breeze. What court they occupied mattered little to him; he would follow her lead.
Rune finished showering and dressed in a tailored black suit.
He straightened the lapels of his jacket in the mirror. He had a meeting with the High Council at midday he would attend begrudgingly. He sent his monthly reports, but the mortal Artithian King pestered him constantly, summoning him at least twice a month.
Jha’ant was a mere decade into his rule, and Rune already looked forward to the next king’s appointment.
Rune should have seen to The Crumbling yesterday, but he’d attended the Hunter’s Moon ball instead.And found his night breeze.He needed to send her court a letter of intent, asking permission to pursue her romantically. She seemed tight-lipped about her court. Perhaps she contemplated leaving them and starting her own court with him.
The Ra’Voshnik purred its agreement and Rune paused a moment. He’d subdued the creature ages ago. Confining it to the recesses of his mind. It remained dormant for the most part, silent unless Rune tasted the emotions of fear. The Ra’Voshnik roused for his night breeze, struggling against its confines as it had in Rune’s youth.
He ignored the creature and straightened his cufflinks. He would deal with it after he found his dark queen. She refused to speak with him across the mental tether she tied to his mind, but he could locate her court another way. Address the letter to her instead of her queen. She answered the wish he’d made at the depth of his power. A wish that would only be heard by a shard as dark or darker than he was. She carried a shard of Darkness, which should be relatively easy to find.
With luck, he would locate his night breeze and have his letter sent before his meeting.
Rune phased to the grand library housed within the Artithian palace. It extensively cataloged information from each realm in a centralized source.
This gaudy, multi-level palace, in its gilded whites and golds, served as the capital of the five realms. Rune walked through the familiar halls; ornate bookshelves lined in matching rows on either side of him. He’d spent much of his first two centuries here, researching spells and techniques to hone his power. The library stood ten stories high, each floor dedicated to a specific area of study or information.
Rune arrived on the third floor, the leather-bound books dedicated to courts and shard registries. Several of the darker courts requested listings of the dark-blooded shards who were not associated with a court. They would send invitations attempting to fold them into their ranks with offers of wealth or position.
He could have asked the librarians that served here to assist him. He’d decided against it. Their assistance would draw unwanted attention to her and himself. He valued his privacy and was not in the habit of explaining himself. His search for a woman would invite too many questions he had no desire to answer.
The books were organized chronologically. Rune strolled to the end of the hall, where the most recent volumes were stored. He selected the dark-blooded shard registries covering the current century. He narrowed his eyes, reading the spines of the adjacent leather-bound books. Court appointments may prove useful. Newly formed courts. He could narrow his search by race. Though he wasn’t sure what she was.
The only winged race was Artithians. The race was divided in two. The Artithians with feathery wings were short-lived mortals, existing for less than a century. Her wings thankfully were reptilian, the immortal variety. Only Artithians didn’t possess her physical characteristics. Their wings ranged from green to black. Her iridescent scales didn’t fit, and neither did her claws.
Her soul shard would be the most efficient means to locate her. She carried a shard of Darkness, must have recently come into her power. Another shard of Darkness would set Necromia a buzz with gossip. Lyssa and every other dark court would offer her wealth and privilege, anything within their means to bring her into their ranks. Males would flock to her—moths drawn to a flame.
Rune frowned. Was he not drawn to her as well? Another moth.
