given?”
“Ariana.”
Michael leaned into the door frame, his chest heavy as he listened to her talk. Suspicion turned to sympathy as she told Jenner about the siege. Her words were formed from a delirium far stronger than what the healer’s tonic would have caused. They were lucky she was making any sense at all, considering how jumbled her phrases were. It concerned him.
Michael lifted the cloak and stood closer to her. He took her chin in his hand and turned her toward him. “You were wearing this,” he said softly. “Where did you get it?”
“Chased me. Into the Nethers.” She furrowed her brow. “I fell. My ankle. He told me to wait until dark.”
Michael glanced wearily at Jenner. The girl wasn’t in her right mind. They would ascertain nothing while she was in this state. “She is tired, Jenner, far too tired to answer anything clearly. I am still concerned, and you know my intentions when we convene with the others on the morrow.”
Jenner nodded, thanking Aulora for her aid with the girl’s health, and started for the door. Michael, who’d stepped in front of him, whispered in an Adorian tongue his wish to know whether she had come alone. “ Ne dost narromai denlot ta allolost .”
They had almost made it completely through the threshold when she said it.
“ Nigh allolost domay. ” It was barely a whisper and, had they been any farther past the door, it would have been construed as inconsequential mumbling.
“What did you say?” Jenner asked. Michael was too stunned to say anything and could only watch as Jenner sat down once again at her bedside.
“ I said — I entered alone .”
Jenner smiled. “My wits, child! You are Adorian. I cannot imagine it. How could you have been left behind?”
“We spoke to each other in this … way. I was little. Before he left. No one but us.”
Michael walked around Jenner and took her face into his hands, resting his palms against her cheeks, elated beyond expression that she was not of dark blood. “Tell me. What name was given your father?”
“His name is Gabriel.”
C HAPTER F OUR
T HE C ITY OF S HADOWS
A
s dusk settled across the horizon, the Moriors flew like dark shadows in the air. The Dragees’ heavy frames pounded the earth, kicking up dirt and mire, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Garren was silent for most of the lengthy journey back to Eidolon, stopping as little as possible and speaking only when he was addressed with something that interested him.
Those who survived the siege were imprisoned at the back of the caravan. Held in iron cages, they sat listless, staring beyond their captors. Everything was as it should be, having captured more souls at less cost than many other conquests Garren had led. Yet, he felt ill at ease. He pictured the girl’s face, replayed her words. Her actions were intrepid, if nothing else. But what disturbed him more than anything was his own response. The sword had been in his hand, he had been ready to strike as he had been countless times before, yet nothing in that moment or any other could have forced him to wound her. Now, he kept envisioning her alone in the dark woods. The more he considered this, the more heated he became. Anger became fury as he outpaced the rest of his men, leaving his guards struggling to catch up.
Was this pity he was feeling? He might have once felt compassion for one of his own, but never for an Adorian.
It had been called the City of Shadows for centuries, and rightfully so. He couldn’t recall a time when it had not been saturated in darkness even in the full light of day. The woods, as if consciously aware of the ever-growing power of the Laionai, shrank away from the city’s borders. The scent of dampness and choking humidity only intensified as they grew near, the cold rainwater pooling in the barren fields from a lack of warmth to evaporate it.
There were two distinct sections to Eidolon. The outer courts housed the human slaves and the
“Ariana.”
Michael leaned into the door frame, his chest heavy as he listened to her talk. Suspicion turned to sympathy as she told Jenner about the siege. Her words were formed from a delirium far stronger than what the healer’s tonic would have caused. They were lucky she was making any sense at all, considering how jumbled her phrases were. It concerned him.
Michael lifted the cloak and stood closer to her. He took her chin in his hand and turned her toward him. “You were wearing this,” he said softly. “Where did you get it?”
“Chased me. Into the Nethers.” She furrowed her brow. “I fell. My ankle. He told me to wait until dark.”
Michael glanced wearily at Jenner. The girl wasn’t in her right mind. They would ascertain nothing while she was in this state. “She is tired, Jenner, far too tired to answer anything clearly. I am still concerned, and you know my intentions when we convene with the others on the morrow.”
Jenner nodded, thanking Aulora for her aid with the girl’s health, and started for the door. Michael, who’d stepped in front of him, whispered in an Adorian tongue his wish to know whether she had come alone. “ Ne dost narromai denlot ta allolost .”
They had almost made it completely through the threshold when she said it.
“ Nigh allolost domay. ” It was barely a whisper and, had they been any farther past the door, it would have been construed as inconsequential mumbling.
“What did you say?” Jenner asked. Michael was too stunned to say anything and could only watch as Jenner sat down once again at her bedside.
“ I said — I entered alone .”
Jenner smiled. “My wits, child! You are Adorian. I cannot imagine it. How could you have been left behind?”
“We spoke to each other in this … way. I was little. Before he left. No one but us.”
Michael walked around Jenner and took her face into his hands, resting his palms against her cheeks, elated beyond expression that she was not of dark blood. “Tell me. What name was given your father?”
“His name is Gabriel.”
C HAPTER F OUR
T HE C ITY OF S HADOWS
A
s dusk settled across the horizon, the Moriors flew like dark shadows in the air. The Dragees’ heavy frames pounded the earth, kicking up dirt and mire, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Garren was silent for most of the lengthy journey back to Eidolon, stopping as little as possible and speaking only when he was addressed with something that interested him.
Those who survived the siege were imprisoned at the back of the caravan. Held in iron cages, they sat listless, staring beyond their captors. Everything was as it should be, having captured more souls at less cost than many other conquests Garren had led. Yet, he felt ill at ease. He pictured the girl’s face, replayed her words. Her actions were intrepid, if nothing else. But what disturbed him more than anything was his own response. The sword had been in his hand, he had been ready to strike as he had been countless times before, yet nothing in that moment or any other could have forced him to wound her. Now, he kept envisioning her alone in the dark woods. The more he considered this, the more heated he became. Anger became fury as he outpaced the rest of his men, leaving his guards struggling to catch up.
Was this pity he was feeling? He might have once felt compassion for one of his own, but never for an Adorian.
It had been called the City of Shadows for centuries, and rightfully so. He couldn’t recall a time when it had not been saturated in darkness even in the full light of day. The woods, as if consciously aware of the ever-growing power of the Laionai, shrank away from the city’s borders. The scent of dampness and choking humidity only intensified as they grew near, the cold rainwater pooling in the barren fields from a lack of warmth to evaporate it.
There were two distinct sections to Eidolon. The outer courts housed the human slaves and the
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