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I’m loath to admit it, but Ienjoyedit.
Suddenly, we shift direction. The momentum changes as Corvan begins to slow.
We’re going down, and the precarious stone slopes have turned into a gentle undulating mass of snow.
We’re descending into a valley, and there’s a river there, snaking through the snow-covered plains, and it’s not frozen over; in fact, steam rises from its brilliant aquamarine surface. On either side of the river are verdant green bushes, thick and lush, leaves gleaming in the brilliant sunlight. Now I can see stones as well; flat, polished by the constant flow of water, covered in silvery-green moss.
It’s breathtakingly beautiful.
Corvan stops on a rocky outcrop that gives us a commanding view of the landscape below.
In the distance, I see a herd of hulking black shapes moving slowly across the snowy plain. They look like cows, only they have long horns and long coats of shaggy fur.
“Karakin,” Corvan informs me.
I’ve never heard of such creatures. There’s so much beyond the borders of Ruen that I don’t know.
The river rushes down a slope, through smooth boulders and over sculpted rock basins. The clear water turns into white-peaked rapids before the slope flattens out, feeding it into a wide mouth filled with flowering reeds. After the reeds, the waterway opens up into a turquoise lake surrounded by ancient pines. The water’s so clear I can see the perfectly preserved logs resting at the bottom.
Faint tendrils of mist rise from the lake. How is it warm in the middle of winter?
At the far edge of the lake, there’s a crescent-shaped beach of fine white sand. Beyond it rises a village of circular huts with walls of whitewashed clay and roofs made from cured animal hides.
Plumes of smoke drift lazily into the blue sky, emerging from central chimneys.
The village is bigger than I thought; it has to contain at least fifty huts. The walls of some are decorated with vibrant painted patterns composed of geometric shapes in shades of green, ochre, red, and black.
“That’s Niize,” Corvan says softly, the wind catching his words. “Home of the Khatur.”
“It’s so peaceful here, and incredibly beautiful. I can hardly believe my eyes. It’s chilling to think that you were at war with these people not too long ago.”
Corvan’s expression is distant and unreadable. With his eyes hidden behind the dark lenses, his face looks like a beautiful mask. For a strange moment, I almost feel he’s unreachable. “As I said, the war was a great folly. The Khatur are fierce defenders, and they will fight to the death to protect what is theirs, but they have a different philosophy when it comes to existence.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“Balance.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t completely understand it either, but we aren’t at each other’s throats anymore. There’s no more killing, and that’s all I care about.”
“But there must still be bad blood. People say the war was the bloodiest and most terrible one ever fought on our lands. What stops your men and the Khatur from killing one another out of revenge?”
Corvan smiles, revealing his fangs. “Me.”
I give him a long, hard look. “That’s a great responsibility to carry.”
“Then perhaps you can understand why I’m still here in Tyron, doing my very best to do ordinary things; be an ordinary man.” He takes a deep breath. “The only problem is that your blood drives me absolutely mad.”
I can feel the intensity of his wanting. A wild part of me craves the feeling of his lips against my skin; the exquisite bright-and-sharp pain of his bite. “Then why didn’t you send me away?”
“I won’t lie. At first, I thought to do just that.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because when I tasted you again… the second time… I knew without a doubt that I could never let you go.” He takes a step forward and puts his hands on my waist.
I don’t resist. There isn’t a thing I can do to stop him, and neither do I want to.
