Rogue.
"Then we should return now —"
"No," she said sharply. "I have seen what must be. Whatever happens you must not come for her until she turns seventeen."
Agitated, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "Why?"
It didn't make sense to wait. Once the girl turned seventeen, her latent magic would rise and bring her aura to life. It would leave her extremely vulnerable to attack.
"Because she's not ready yet. I've done everything I can, but…" She abruptly stopped and the corners of her mouth tightened. When she continued, her voice was subdued. "She knows nothing, Tristan. About her family, about the prophecy, about Haverleau."
It was the resigned, slightly pained tone that finally made me understand.
She wanted to keep her daughter out of the elemental world, out of this cursed war, for as long as possible. Give her as much time to experience a life outside its horrors.
And in that instant I knew Naida Irisavie would never set foot in Haverleau again. It was a resolve that radiated off every inch of her body, from the straight stiffness of her back to the steeliness of her expression.
She was willing to give everything, including her life, for her daughter to have a few more moments of peace.
"How much does she know?" I asked softly. "About the war? Our world?"
"Only the basics."
The streetlamp flickered and a sudden rustle shifted through the air. It came from the hydrangea bushes lining the west side of the house. Night wind carried the trace scent of light, feminine sweat combined with the clean notes of jasmine, white rose, and lavender.
The pleasant fragrance sang through my body in the same heated way shapeshifting magic did. Senses awakened.
A lithe figure crouched low to the ground, face hidden in shadow. With her back against the wall, she cautiously made her way toward us. Her movements were confident and fluid. There was a balanced awareness in how she extended her arms and legs as if she'd had some sort of training.
Curiosity tingled. Who was she? "We have an audience."
"That would be Kendra," Naida said, exasperated. "She has a tendency to never be where she's supposed to be."
A branch snapped and my eyes flickered back to the bush. She froze, a swath of moonlight cutting across her face. My glance barely lasted a second, but it was enough to catch a look.
Thick locks of hair the color of honey caramel framed a strong, expressive face. Creamy complexion accentuated soft, full lips and wide, dark green eyes.
There was no fear in them. But there was something else, a spark that came from deep within.
Strength, certainly. Challenge, perhaps. Maybe defiance.
Interesting.
She moved quietly for an ondine. I caught only the occasional scratch of her footsteps as she hurried toward the back yard.
The idea of her sneaking back into her own house was oddly amusing. "She does this often?"
"She can be a handful," Naida said wryly. "I better go deal with her."
Thinking about those striking eyes that peered out from the bushes sent a sudden pang in my chest.
Ansel was gone. Tonight's meeting with Naida made it clear what would happen.
If Kendra Irisavie was the sondaleur , her future would be filled with sacrifice and the burden of a fate she'd have to bear alone on slender shoulders.
A future filled with consequences I understood all too well.
"Tristan." Somber hazel eyes latched onto mine. "Take care of my daughter."
Fifteen thousand selkies relied upon my leadership and guidance in a kingdom I was not meant to inherit. Yet Naida's words somehow weighed upon me more.
A singular event with my brother seventeen years ago defined my life into two parts. Before and After.
Naida and Ansel belonged to the Before, to the period when I didn't yet know the true demons of war. They were two individuals I deeply respected whose love for each other had awed my younger self.
She was now trusting me to protect the result of that love.
And some part of me knew it was also more than that. Maybe
"Then we should return now —"
"No," she said sharply. "I have seen what must be. Whatever happens you must not come for her until she turns seventeen."
Agitated, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "Why?"
It didn't make sense to wait. Once the girl turned seventeen, her latent magic would rise and bring her aura to life. It would leave her extremely vulnerable to attack.
"Because she's not ready yet. I've done everything I can, but…" She abruptly stopped and the corners of her mouth tightened. When she continued, her voice was subdued. "She knows nothing, Tristan. About her family, about the prophecy, about Haverleau."
It was the resigned, slightly pained tone that finally made me understand.
She wanted to keep her daughter out of the elemental world, out of this cursed war, for as long as possible. Give her as much time to experience a life outside its horrors.
And in that instant I knew Naida Irisavie would never set foot in Haverleau again. It was a resolve that radiated off every inch of her body, from the straight stiffness of her back to the steeliness of her expression.
She was willing to give everything, including her life, for her daughter to have a few more moments of peace.
"How much does she know?" I asked softly. "About the war? Our world?"
"Only the basics."
The streetlamp flickered and a sudden rustle shifted through the air. It came from the hydrangea bushes lining the west side of the house. Night wind carried the trace scent of light, feminine sweat combined with the clean notes of jasmine, white rose, and lavender.
The pleasant fragrance sang through my body in the same heated way shapeshifting magic did. Senses awakened.
A lithe figure crouched low to the ground, face hidden in shadow. With her back against the wall, she cautiously made her way toward us. Her movements were confident and fluid. There was a balanced awareness in how she extended her arms and legs as if she'd had some sort of training.
Curiosity tingled. Who was she? "We have an audience."
"That would be Kendra," Naida said, exasperated. "She has a tendency to never be where she's supposed to be."
A branch snapped and my eyes flickered back to the bush. She froze, a swath of moonlight cutting across her face. My glance barely lasted a second, but it was enough to catch a look.
Thick locks of hair the color of honey caramel framed a strong, expressive face. Creamy complexion accentuated soft, full lips and wide, dark green eyes.
There was no fear in them. But there was something else, a spark that came from deep within.
Strength, certainly. Challenge, perhaps. Maybe defiance.
Interesting.
She moved quietly for an ondine. I caught only the occasional scratch of her footsteps as she hurried toward the back yard.
The idea of her sneaking back into her own house was oddly amusing. "She does this often?"
"She can be a handful," Naida said wryly. "I better go deal with her."
Thinking about those striking eyes that peered out from the bushes sent a sudden pang in my chest.
Ansel was gone. Tonight's meeting with Naida made it clear what would happen.
If Kendra Irisavie was the sondaleur , her future would be filled with sacrifice and the burden of a fate she'd have to bear alone on slender shoulders.
A future filled with consequences I understood all too well.
"Tristan." Somber hazel eyes latched onto mine. "Take care of my daughter."
Fifteen thousand selkies relied upon my leadership and guidance in a kingdom I was not meant to inherit. Yet Naida's words somehow weighed upon me more.
A singular event with my brother seventeen years ago defined my life into two parts. Before and After.
Naida and Ansel belonged to the Before, to the period when I didn't yet know the true demons of war. They were two individuals I deeply respected whose love for each other had awed my younger self.
She was now trusting me to protect the result of that love.
And some part of me knew it was also more than that. Maybe
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