stronger.
She had to walk a ways until she found a likely tree. As she did, a shower began, gentle and warm, but soaking nonetheless. When she gripped the lowest branch of the tree, her hand slipped and she toppled back to the ground, tripping on a root and landing in the mud.
“Are all Raes so graceful?” a voice said from behind her—a smooth voice she knew.
She scrambled up out of the squelching muck, backing away from him.
Endreas leaned against a tree on the other side of the muddy patch, pale hair dry, braided to his scalp along the sides, loose behind. His clothes, his buckled vest and trousers, arm wrappings and knee-high boots, all leather and all black. Only his shirt was a pale silver hue. Not a speck of dirt on him.
Her heart hammered out curses against her chest. He’d followed her, somehow, and she’d led him straight to Tamia. What an idiot she was.
She searched the woods around for signs of Lavana or her warriors.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re alone.”
That did not make her feel better.
“Lavana has no idea that I’ve been following you.”
Though a part of her simply wanted to run, those black eyes looped around her like ropes, holding her in place.
“I will never tell you where the Enneahedron is,” she said.
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t really care. I have an interest in the future Radiant of this little . . . hamlet of yours, but the Enneahedron itself is of no concern to me.”
She chewed her lip, not sure what to think. The fact that his presence tugged at that aching place in her core wasn’t helping.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He pushed away from the tree. She tensed. But he didn’t move any closer.
“What are your plans?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. “You know where the Enneahedron is, don’t you?”
“I told you I’m not—”
He held up his hand and she stopped, which surprised even her. His dark eyes gleamed as a small smile touched his lips.
“And I told you,” he said, “I don’t care where it is. I only want to know what you intend. Are you going to take it to the Crown? Do you intend to make yourself Radiant?”
“No,” she answered, because it had been her answer for so long, but after what had happened with Lavana, she wasn’t so sure.
“Then what will you do?” he asked. “There are no other Raes of age who have a rightful claim. It’s either Lavana . . . or you.”
“There are younger ones,” she said. “When they come of age . . .”
“You would let your province go without a Radiant? You know what that does, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. Too long a time without a Radiant would incite chaos among the Pixies, disrupt the order among the small folk, and worse, the land would start to die. This was why only a year was allowed to pass for the new Radiant to be chosen. Any longer would bring droughts, floods, tornados, ice . . . The Radiant was a part of the land and the land was a part of her.
He strolled around the mud puddle, rain running over his face. She backed up as he approached. He stopped a few short feet away, just out of reach.
“I have something for you,” he said. With a twist of his wrist, her finger-knives appeared. The silvery sheaths bundled in his long fingers.
She stepped forward before she remembered herself.
He held them out. “Take them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Don’t you want them?”
“What do you want in return?” she asked.
“Can’t a man simply return a lady’s weapons without being accused of having an ulterior motive?”
“Maybe, but not you,” she said. “You shoved an iron nail into my leg, and my shoulder.”
He let his hand fall to his side. “Oh, that.”
“Yes. That! So you’ll excuse me if I don’t trust that you’ve come here out of altruism.”
“No, you’re right,” he said. “There is something I want.”
“What?”
“You.”
In a flash he was upon her, kissing her, rough and hungry, flooding her with a
She had to walk a ways until she found a likely tree. As she did, a shower began, gentle and warm, but soaking nonetheless. When she gripped the lowest branch of the tree, her hand slipped and she toppled back to the ground, tripping on a root and landing in the mud.
“Are all Raes so graceful?” a voice said from behind her—a smooth voice she knew.
She scrambled up out of the squelching muck, backing away from him.
Endreas leaned against a tree on the other side of the muddy patch, pale hair dry, braided to his scalp along the sides, loose behind. His clothes, his buckled vest and trousers, arm wrappings and knee-high boots, all leather and all black. Only his shirt was a pale silver hue. Not a speck of dirt on him.
Her heart hammered out curses against her chest. He’d followed her, somehow, and she’d led him straight to Tamia. What an idiot she was.
She searched the woods around for signs of Lavana or her warriors.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re alone.”
That did not make her feel better.
“Lavana has no idea that I’ve been following you.”
Though a part of her simply wanted to run, those black eyes looped around her like ropes, holding her in place.
“I will never tell you where the Enneahedron is,” she said.
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t really care. I have an interest in the future Radiant of this little . . . hamlet of yours, but the Enneahedron itself is of no concern to me.”
She chewed her lip, not sure what to think. The fact that his presence tugged at that aching place in her core wasn’t helping.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He pushed away from the tree. She tensed. But he didn’t move any closer.
“What are your plans?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. “You know where the Enneahedron is, don’t you?”
“I told you I’m not—”
He held up his hand and she stopped, which surprised even her. His dark eyes gleamed as a small smile touched his lips.
“And I told you,” he said, “I don’t care where it is. I only want to know what you intend. Are you going to take it to the Crown? Do you intend to make yourself Radiant?”
“No,” she answered, because it had been her answer for so long, but after what had happened with Lavana, she wasn’t so sure.
“Then what will you do?” he asked. “There are no other Raes of age who have a rightful claim. It’s either Lavana . . . or you.”
“There are younger ones,” she said. “When they come of age . . .”
“You would let your province go without a Radiant? You know what that does, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. Too long a time without a Radiant would incite chaos among the Pixies, disrupt the order among the small folk, and worse, the land would start to die. This was why only a year was allowed to pass for the new Radiant to be chosen. Any longer would bring droughts, floods, tornados, ice . . . The Radiant was a part of the land and the land was a part of her.
He strolled around the mud puddle, rain running over his face. She backed up as he approached. He stopped a few short feet away, just out of reach.
“I have something for you,” he said. With a twist of his wrist, her finger-knives appeared. The silvery sheaths bundled in his long fingers.
She stepped forward before she remembered herself.
He held them out. “Take them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Don’t you want them?”
“What do you want in return?” she asked.
“Can’t a man simply return a lady’s weapons without being accused of having an ulterior motive?”
“Maybe, but not you,” she said. “You shoved an iron nail into my leg, and my shoulder.”
He let his hand fall to his side. “Oh, that.”
“Yes. That! So you’ll excuse me if I don’t trust that you’ve come here out of altruism.”
“No, you’re right,” he said. “There is something I want.”
“What?”
“You.”
In a flash he was upon her, kissing her, rough and hungry, flooding her with a
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