“Go.”
Faraday nodded, and went.
Isfrael watched his mother walk down the path with cold eyes, and even colder thoughts.
The Avar tolerated—nay, welcomed—his presence among them, but Isfrael was ever aware that they regarded him as one of them, not as one above them.
That place they now reserved for Faraday. Their Tree Friend was once more among them. She had returned in the hour of direst danger, and led them to safety.
Better his mother had stayed in legend, Isfrael thought, as he had thought a thousand times since he’d entered this pitiful underground dungeon they called “Sanctuary”.
Better…better if she returned to legend.
Aye, far better.
Isfrael turned his back and walked into darkness.Faraday smoothed the white linen of her gown nervously, tweaking out a fold that had become caught under the Mother’s rainbow sash still wound about her waist.
For a moment she rested her hand on the faint outline of the twisted arrow and sapling that rested in the folds of the sash.
Then she raised her eyes and looked at the closed door before her. Here Azhure said Drago was waiting.
Here, the chamber he had taken as his own. Right next door to Axis and Azhure’s chamber, which Faraday could not help wonder was a deliberate action on his part.
Choose between us, Faraday. My father, or me.
Which door, Faraday?
There was nothing in Faraday’s mind of Demons, or how to restore Tencendor to its glory, or even of Katie. All Faraday could think of was what she should say to this man.
How she could gracefully tell him that, after all her hesitation, all her fright and denial, all her determination not to lay open her body and soul to the betrayal it had suffered with Axis and Gorgrael, she was prepared to do it all over again if it meant loving, and being loved.
The Mother had been right. Her life would be nothing if she refused to dare to love.
Faraday glanced at Axis’ door several paces away.
There was no question of the choice, and maybe Drago knew that, but it would have amused him to have presented her with the mirage of alternatives.
No, Faraday’s major problem now was how to back down with her pride intact from the position she’d dug herself into.
Having denied the man, and her love for him, for months, how could she now turn around and say she’d been wrong?
What superior smile would wrap his face? What triumph?
“None, Faraday,” said a soft voice behind her, and she whipped about.
Drago… no! DragonStar (and now she could see why Azhure had used that name) was leaning against the wall several paces behind her.
Faraday’s entire existence stilled, save for the painful thudding of her heart.
And save for the painful sensation of her desire crawling out of the very pit of her soul, through her stomach and up her throat to offer itself to this man.
Tears filled her eyes. He was glorious. Somehow, somewhere, in the week or more since she’d last seen him, he’d been re-transformed. Transformed into his true self, the self that Azhure and Axis had tried to hide, the self that the power of the Enemy had been successful in returning.
DragonStar was not handsome, nor even physically imposing. The tired lined face and the violet eyes were the same—and yet radically different. Both face and eyes were transfused with such depth of understanding (Faraday did not think she could call it “power”), and such heights of compassion that she thought she might choke on her emotion.
DragonStar half-smiled, acknowledging her reaction, straightened, hesitated, then brushed past her and opened the door to his chamber. “You wanted to speak to me?”
Faraday’s temper flashed.
“Is that all you have to say?” She turned and followed him into the room. “What happened to you? And Caelum? And Qeteb? And Tencendor? None of us have heard—”
DragonStar laid a hand on her mouth. “Hush, Faraday. First, there are other things that must be said between us.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted
Faraday nodded, and went.
Isfrael watched his mother walk down the path with cold eyes, and even colder thoughts.
The Avar tolerated—nay, welcomed—his presence among them, but Isfrael was ever aware that they regarded him as one of them, not as one above them.
That place they now reserved for Faraday. Their Tree Friend was once more among them. She had returned in the hour of direst danger, and led them to safety.
Better his mother had stayed in legend, Isfrael thought, as he had thought a thousand times since he’d entered this pitiful underground dungeon they called “Sanctuary”.
Better…better if she returned to legend.
Aye, far better.
Isfrael turned his back and walked into darkness.Faraday smoothed the white linen of her gown nervously, tweaking out a fold that had become caught under the Mother’s rainbow sash still wound about her waist.
For a moment she rested her hand on the faint outline of the twisted arrow and sapling that rested in the folds of the sash.
Then she raised her eyes and looked at the closed door before her. Here Azhure said Drago was waiting.
Here, the chamber he had taken as his own. Right next door to Axis and Azhure’s chamber, which Faraday could not help wonder was a deliberate action on his part.
Choose between us, Faraday. My father, or me.
Which door, Faraday?
There was nothing in Faraday’s mind of Demons, or how to restore Tencendor to its glory, or even of Katie. All Faraday could think of was what she should say to this man.
How she could gracefully tell him that, after all her hesitation, all her fright and denial, all her determination not to lay open her body and soul to the betrayal it had suffered with Axis and Gorgrael, she was prepared to do it all over again if it meant loving, and being loved.
The Mother had been right. Her life would be nothing if she refused to dare to love.
Faraday glanced at Axis’ door several paces away.
There was no question of the choice, and maybe Drago knew that, but it would have amused him to have presented her with the mirage of alternatives.
No, Faraday’s major problem now was how to back down with her pride intact from the position she’d dug herself into.
Having denied the man, and her love for him, for months, how could she now turn around and say she’d been wrong?
What superior smile would wrap his face? What triumph?
“None, Faraday,” said a soft voice behind her, and she whipped about.
Drago… no! DragonStar (and now she could see why Azhure had used that name) was leaning against the wall several paces behind her.
Faraday’s entire existence stilled, save for the painful thudding of her heart.
And save for the painful sensation of her desire crawling out of the very pit of her soul, through her stomach and up her throat to offer itself to this man.
Tears filled her eyes. He was glorious. Somehow, somewhere, in the week or more since she’d last seen him, he’d been re-transformed. Transformed into his true self, the self that Azhure and Axis had tried to hide, the self that the power of the Enemy had been successful in returning.
DragonStar was not handsome, nor even physically imposing. The tired lined face and the violet eyes were the same—and yet radically different. Both face and eyes were transfused with such depth of understanding (Faraday did not think she could call it “power”), and such heights of compassion that she thought she might choke on her emotion.
DragonStar half-smiled, acknowledging her reaction, straightened, hesitated, then brushed past her and opened the door to his chamber. “You wanted to speak to me?”
Faraday’s temper flashed.
“Is that all you have to say?” She turned and followed him into the room. “What happened to you? And Caelum? And Qeteb? And Tencendor? None of us have heard—”
DragonStar laid a hand on her mouth. “Hush, Faraday. First, there are other things that must be said between us.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted
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