Empire of Night by Kelley Armstrong Page A

they’d traveled together, his attention had turned Ashyn’s way. Before they reached the imperial city, Ronan had told her how to contact him. Then, as they parted, he’d kissed her. She was not as experienced in romantic matters as Moria, but there seemed no other way to interpret his actions. There truly did not.
    After two days, she’d done as he’d said—tossed a missive over the courtyard wall, to land between it and a neighboring building.
    It was a simple I’d like to see you. His reply came a day later: I don’t think that’s wise.
    No explanation. No apology. A cool refusal, as if she were some starry-eyed village girl asking him to the Fire Festival.
    While that had stung, she’d told herself she was overreacting. He merely meant what he said—that it was not wise at the time.
    But then he’d agreed to see Moria, and Ashyn realized there was no excuse other than the obvious. His kiss had not been a beginning but the ending. A good-bye.
    In bard songs, love was love, and when you found it, it wasforever. In life, romantic entanglements came and went, and sometimes they were not entanglements at all, but merely two people, brushing against each other before moving on.
    That was what had happened here, and she ought to be mature about it. Savor the memory. Chalk it up to experience. That was certainly what Moria would do. Except, she was not Moria, and perhaps she was not all that mature, and so it hurt, and it did not seem likely to stop hurting soon.

EIGHT
    T he spirits bade Ashyn farewell as she left the imperial city. She heard their whispers, sometimes coming clear enough for her to catch a word or two, but often no more than circling murmurs, as much a part of her world as the wind sighing through the trees. A Seeker and Keeper did not converse directly with the ancestral spirits, as the spirit talkers could. Nor did they see them, if indeed they had form that could be seen, which Ashyn doubted.
    The spirits did not serve the Seeker and Keeper. The Seeker and Keeper served the spirits. Ashyn was responsible for rituals and ceremonies to put them at peace. Moria protected the ancestors—and the living—from evil spirits, possessing the power to fight and banish them. Occasionally, the ancestors would demand something, like when they told Moria to give Ronan her dagger before he went into the Forest of the Dead. Why? Well, that was where the communicationsended. Demands and vague warnings only. Or greetings and farewells.
    â€œPointless,” Moria muttered as they left the city. “How about some actual words of wisdom?”
    Take care, Keeper. Be well, Seeker.
    â€œHelpful. Very helpful.” Moria looked at her. “Is it just me, or do they seem a little too happy to see us leave?”
    â€œThea and Ellyn are their Keeper and Seeker. We’re intruders.”
    Moria grumbled. Ashyn had read stories of wise old women eager to impart their wisdom to the younger generation. Thea and Ellyn imparted each bit of their wisdom as if it were a tooth and soon they’d have none left. With everything that had happened, Ashyn would have loved to seek counsel with the elderly Keeper and Seeker, but they hadn’t even seen the two women since the day they arrived. Were they busy preparing for Alvar’s war, preparing to fight shadow stalkers? If so, shouldn’t all four have been doing it together?
    Ashyn sighed to herself and then looked across the convoy. She and Moria were the only women. The caravan drivers would double as staff. Six warriors rode with them, half in front and half in rear, their sword sheaths clicking in the dawn quiet. There were two counselors, bound up in their cloaks, the morning’s damp still on them.
    â€œAll is well, Ashyn?” Tyrus said as he caught her gazing about.
    She smiled for him. “It is,” she said, and they rode from the city.

    By the second day, Moria seemed ready to jump out of her