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CHAPTER 11 - MORGAN
Iwoke up drenchedin sweat, as if I had been running through the glade and not simply walking in it. As if I had been doing more than simply speaking to my Siabra husband. Much more.
But it hadn’t been real.
Even now, my eyes were becoming accustomed to the dimness. I could make out the drab stone walls of my little room in the temple.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the cot.
It had just been a dream, I told myself. That place I had been in—the glade—hadn’t been real. It was a fantasy. Not a vision like the ones I’d had before. Not a true dreaming.
I wiped my clammy hands on the bedsheets and kept trying to convince myself.
It was simply an indication of how much I missed Nightclaw, I told myself firmly. But my rational mind also knew that Draven would take care of him. And so I had dreamed the dream to put my mind at rest.
Perhaps parts of it were even true. Perhaps Draven really had decided to introduce Nightclaw and Sunstrike again. And perhaps this time, they hadn’t tried to kill one another.
It was good to think that Nightclaw might have found companionship. Even if I couldn’t be there to see it.
And Draven? Would he ever find companionship without me? Was it even possible after the way he’d bonded us?
The thought of Draven with some other woman was enough to make me rise restlessly from the bed.
Pulling a robe off a hook, I wrapped it over the thin tunic and trousers I’d worn to sleep, then pulled open the door to my room.
The temple was quiet at this time of night. Candles burned in stone sconces along the halls, providing some illumination for those who might have needed to rise from their beds.
I had no idea where I was going. Only that I didn’t want to stay in my room or go back to sleep yet.
A cry of pain broke through the still, cool air.
I stepped out into the shadowy passage. A second cry came, echoing off the stone walls like a lament.
My footsteps made no discernible sound as I padded along the stone floor. A hushed murmur of distant voices reverberated through the narrow passage ahead of me.
Passing the closed doors of other sleeping acolytes and pupils, the sounds became more pronounced. A glint of light spilled onto the stone floor ahead of me. I approached a wooden door that had been left open a crack and pushed against it.
Sounds spilled forth into the hallway.
A soft cacophony of voices. The sound of rustling herbs. A muttered incantation to the Three.
