Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor) by India Drummond Page A

countermand my father’s decree. I know where he is. We just need shelter until we can get to him. I can provide that. Then your life will return to normal.”
    Doubt played across her features, but eventually she let out a breath and nodded. “I need to gather a few things.”
    Korbin helped her rise. Her fingers were small but elegant. He hadn’t noticed that before. “You should hurry. The sun will be up in a couple of hours. I know a place we can lie low for a while. We’ll go to Eliam first thing in the morning. The fewer people who see us arrive, the better.” He hesitated, then added, “Do you have any clothing that is less distinctive?”
    She glanced down at her long, flowing robes. “You mean less Kilovian?”
    The accusation in her tone stung, but it was what he’d been getting at. “They’re looking for a conduit, thus a Kilovian.”
    “You think I could pass for a Talmoran?” she asked sharply.
    “Not on close inspection, of course not.”
    She pulled her hand back from his. “I’m going to get what I need.”
    It took all his self-control not to urge her to hurry again.
     

Chapter 8
    Korbin took Octavia to a small riders’ outpost just inside the city gates. Close to the main station, it was rarely used, and he hoped they’d be safe for a couple of hours. Soon word of the arrest warrant would spread, and even his fellow riders might be looking for him. Fortunately, no reward had been placed, or every one of his neighbors in Chelotti Strand would be banging down the door of the local constabulary to offer information. His only hope was people’s natural reticence to involve themselves with the authorities.
    The small outpost building was designed as a place travelling riders could catch a short rest. But the provisions were meagre and the four narrow cots uncomfortable, so most preferred one of the city’s many inns. Saving a few coins wasn’t worth the muscle knots one would get from the miserable pallets provided.
    Still, for Octavia and him, on that particular night, the outpost was safer than going someplace more comfortable. She’d managed to lie down and close her eyes, although her breathing told him she didn’t sleep much more than he did. She was frightened but coping well.
    He admired her strength. Trying not to watch her, he sat on a bed opposite hers and stared toward the door and the ever-lightening sliver that told him night was waning. All the while, he wondered about her and what had brought her to this city.
    He wanted to ask her a million questions about her past, her life, her family. She was young, likely not far from his own age; however, she had a timeless way about her, as though the soul of an old woman inhabited a young body. Calling her old wasn’t fair because her mind was alive, alert, and curious. But now wasn’t the time to satisfy his curiosity. He needed to focus.
    Her long, dark eyelashes fluttered, and he had an almost irrepressible desire to touch her face. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she had something he needed, or maybe she knew something he didn’t. He suspected she held the answer to a question he hadn’t yet thought to ask. He wanted to win her trust, to prove that although he came from an important family, he wasn’t like those she’d learned to fear.
    Outside, pattering footfalls of the earliest workers had begun to move about the city. “It’s time,” he said softly.
    Her eyes opened and he noticed the haunted look within them. Instead of giving voice to her fears, she sat up and smoothed her hair.
    The door handle rattled. In a rush, Korbin darted over to Octavia and pushed her back on the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.
    She stiffened but didn’t resist. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened.
    “Whoa,” came a voice from the door.
    Korbin spoke softly to Octavia. “It’ll be okay. Follow my lead, and keep your face hidden.” Her clothing was still a touch odd for a Talmoran woman,