Unraveling Stories - Chapter 3

<-Chapter 2

"I want to regain the innocence of my youth."

 

Kyle returned within a few minutes with a tunic for Tyrian. "Thank you," Tyrian told him sincerely. "I know you don't like me."

The blue-eyed swordsman blew out a hard breath. "See, that's the damnedest part. I do like you, and I don't know why the hell why. I know for a fact that you're dangerous to Ophelia, so I should really be hating you. But I can't seem to do it."

"Okay," came another male voice. "What's this about us being invaded?"

Kyle sighed and moved out of the doorway. "I said no such thing, Ewan."

As the newest arrival stepped into the doorway, Marian's eyes went wide. Liang lifted a brow. Tyrian could only blink, for once startled past his normal serenity. The young man standing behind Kyle was huge. He was six-seven, if he was an inch, and his broad shoulders filled the doorway. His face spoke of rugged lines that, while decidedly attractive, completely ruined any chance he might have had of being truly handsome in the way Kyle was.

He wore the casual clothing of a swordsman with arrogant ease, and a sword rested at his hip. His eyes were a clear shade of yellow-brown that matched his unruly brown hair, and he swept the room with a gaze that felt oddly piercing. "So," he said, and even his voice sounded more rugged than polished, "you're Tyrian Southerwind."

"Wow," Marian breathed. "Grizzly men do exist."

Kyle choked. Hard. Coughing fiercely, he turned away. His friend eyed him intently and then turned to Marian. With a smile that softened his face and a bow that would have done any nobleman proud, he said, "Ewan Grizmar at your service."

"An honor." Tyrian returned the bow. "As you guessed, I'm Tyrian. This is my cousin, Marian, and my mentor, Liang."

Ewan studied Tyrian intently and then smiled half to himself. He could see why Cassie was so taken with Tyrian. Oh, she hadn't said anything, but the way she had bolted out of the base to his defense spoke volumes. "Nice to meet all of you. Or as we say where Kyle and I are from, well met."

"Where are you from?" Liang asked curiously.

Something came and went from Ewan's eyes like a shadow of pain. Kyle touched his arm lightly, and Tyrian very nearly reached out as well. There was something about Ewan, and Kyle, that drew Tyrian to them as strongly as he was drawn to Liang and Marian. "The former Commune of Soldiers," Ewan finally said.

"Ah." Liang saw Marian and Tyrian frowning at him and explained, "The Commune of Soldiers is its own faction in much the way the Monk Clans are. A few years ago, the main village was erased by a rogue Vampire. The others have tried to pull together, but it's been hard."

"Vampire." Tyrian frowned thoughtfully. "I thought they were peaceful."

"Oh, most are," Ewan assured him. "Millennium Vampires, they're called. They have a valley hidden somewhere. They are very peaceful. But when they go rogue, they become evil. They can't go out during the daylight and they can't consume anything except the blood of the living."

"Yick!" Marian rubbed her arms to fight a chill. "I hope I never meet one."

"Yeah," he said softly. "It's not fun." He brushed off Kyle's hand and straightened his back. "Well, let's go find the boss lady. Once we meet with her, you can explore if you like." Blandly he added, "I'm sure Cassie would show you around."

Tyrian kept his eyes steady on Ewan's. "If she would like to."

They continued down the hall, and Ewan murmured to Kyle, "Gives nothing away, that one, but he's not secretive. I get the feeling he wouldn't be able to lie to a friend convincingly. Hell, I'm not sure he could lie to an enemy."

"Yeah," Kyle agreed quietly. "There's just something about him that gets to me. I think I can see, in part, why Cassie went running out to his defense." He added louder in a complaining voice as they walked into the meeting room, "You're not going to bring home every stray you find, right?"

Ophelia gave a ladylike snort as she looked up from the map she was studying with Cassie. "You're a farm boy at heart, Kyle. You wouldn't mind that much."

From the wall to the side, a rumbling male voice asked dryly, "How is it that opposites are so strongly drawn together? A farm boy and a noblewoman. Is it supposed to make sense?"

"Don't help," Kyle muttered as he sat down in a chair at the table. He jerked a thumb toward the speaker. "Tyrian, meet Dylan. Dylan, meet Tyrian Southerwind."

Tyrian studied the tall male sitting near a sewer grate. His eyes were hard emerald color and his hair looked more brown than blond. There was nothing about his appearance that looked overly attractive or trust inspiring, but Tyrian did trust him. Inexplicably, without question, and with the same strength with which he trusted the others. It was . . . curious.

"So," Ophelia said, studying Tyrian, "how old are you? What brought you to Teasarn?"

Something flickered in Tyrian's eyes. "Eighteen as of today. My older brother was murdered in this city. He made it back to the capitol by a miracle and died on the steps of the castle. He had been viciously attacked and drained of lifeforce."

"Shit," Dylan said so softly it was nearly inaudible.

"I don't suppose anyone saw anything unusual," Liang asked the room in general.

Ewan frowned. "I know I saw some of the soldiers acting odd. When did the attack occur, Tyrian?"

"This morning I assume. It's only a one-hour ride from here to Trinan. He left early, right before I met with Cassie. He returned not long after she left."

Cassie's sharp eyes noted the pallor under his skin and the buried grief in his eyes as clearly as if he had spoken about them. Pain stabbed through her heart. Her gaze lowered and she saw his knuckles had gone white from his fingers clenching the back of a chair. She moved forward without conscious thought, only sure that she had to comfort him. "Sit down," she told him, gently grasping his arm. "Before you fall down."

Tyrian sat down, and he was unaware of the lifted brows as he did so. When Cassie would have moved back, he took her hand. "No." Holding tight, he turned back to Ophelia and ignored her speculative look.

Kyle drummed the fingers of his right hand on the table lightly. "He had to have been attacked the instant he entered the city. The meeting wasn't that long, was it?" When Tyrian shook his head, Kyle leaned back in his chair. "Something smells rotten."

"That's why I came here. And . . ." Tyrian looked up at Cassie. "And I wanted to see what Cassie had been talking about." He turned back to Ophelia. "Because I am fairly sure the soldiers of the Empire know something of what happened to Ben, then I have all the more reason to distrust them. Why don't you tell me more about what is going on?"

"You'd help us?" Ewan asked idly.

"If you were in the right, and if the Empire was in the state you claim it to be, yes. I've already seen what has happened here. I lived here for sixteen years. My mother still lives here. I know it was not always like this."

"Kell?" Ophelia called.

An old man stepped forward from the shadows. On first look, he seemed quite fragile. He stood hunched over a cane, and his long white beard and snowy white hair showed starkly against his dark skin. Wrinkles lined his wrinkles and he moved so slowly that it was a wonder he didn't fall over.

"Do you need help?" Marian asked kindly as she moved to his side.

Tyrian smiled. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew it was entirely an act. "Don't bother, Marian. He's not as bad off as he proclaims."

Kell gave a surprisingly youthful laugh and promptly straightened up. His age didn't change, but the deceptive frailty went away with shocking swiftness. He gave a quick and graceful bow. "An honor to meet you, Lord Tyrian. I am Kell. I work for Lady Ophelia as an informant." He grinned cheekily at a flustered Marian. "Don't be embarrassed. I fool everyone on first meeting."

"No kidding," Kyle groused.

"Is he always grumpy?" Tyrian asked Cassie.

A smile lit her eyes. "Ophelia says he is."

Aggravated, Kyle said, "My fiancée has dragged me into the middle of a rebellion and postponed our marriage—twice! I had only just gotten to name my sword when we started this madness, and now I'm defending her life and her virtue at every turn! Of course I'm grumpy!"

"You only had to defend her virtue once," Dylan noted.

"And if you hadn't let her leave her sword behind when she met alone with that snake, it wouldn't have been at all!"

Ophelia sighed and smiled at Tyrian. "Kyle is often grumpy where the safety of his family is concerned, but he's also very outgoing and upbeat. He loves to live." Her eyes warmed when she looked at Kyle. "Perhaps it's one of the reasons I love him."

"Name your sword?" Marian asked.

Kyle nodded. "True swordsmen from the Commune of Soldiers are not considered adults until they are given the right to name their sword. Ewan gained his right five years ago but didn't bother to name his sword. I gained my right a year ago." He drew his sword and held it up so that the engraving in the blade near the hilt was visible. It read as only one name—Ophelia.

"Most people name their swords for someone they love," Ewan offered. "I've yet to meet anyone I loved enough to name my sword after."

"You seemed serious about Lena," Dylan offered.

A slow red color climbed Ewan's cheeks. He coughed. Hard. "So, Tyrian, what can we do to convince you?"

"Lena?" Tyrian asked delicately.

"She'd be Ewan's wife if he wasn't a coward," Kyle murmured with more than a touch of glee in his voice and eyes. "They had a very intense two-week relationship that made him go running for the hills. Last I heard, she's prepared to hit him over the head with a frying pan if he ever goes near her again."

"So," Ewan said again, this time with a touch of desperation, "what can we do to convince you, Tyrian?"

Kell offered a small spherical shaped glass globe to Tyrian. "This is a Seeing Relic," he said calmly. "I have been using it in various cities to record any events that might be of . . . value to us. You can trust what you see. I am a skilled informant. Hell, I've been a skilled informant since before your father was born."

"Are you wearing a relic?" Ophelia asked.

"No."

Startled looks instantly went to Tyrian from everyone present. "Really?" Kyle frowned. "But you have such a powerful magical capacity. I can sense it so clearly that I thought you had a strong relic."

Tyrian shook his head. "I've never found one that I was comfortable with, but I know that I'm quite strong." He picked up the Seeing Relic. "I should be able to use this without any conflicts."

The evidence of his strong sorcerer potential was clear when the Seeing Relic activated without him fusing it. It hovered over his palm obediently and began projecting images into the air over the table so that everyone could see.

It was disturbing, to say the least. A dozen cities scattered across the vast expanse of the Empire were shown to be in the same condition as Teasarn. Broken buildings, dirty streets, people living in alleys. Soldiers swarmed the crowds. The façade of regular life was simply that.

"So people in other cities are beggared, while people in Trinan live perfectly happy, unassuming lives." Marian's entire body quivered with barely leashed anger. "To think that we were all so happy and carefree while people suffered . . . !"

Liang let out a hard breath. "The evidence is damning indeed. And as much as I want to believe that there must be a reason for this, I can't convince myself that it is a good one." He looked at Tyrian, who was very quiet as he watched the relic. "It's your decision, Lord Tyrian," he said quietly. "You know that I follow you anywhere."

Tyrian put the relic down and the images stopped. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. In that moment, he looked every inch the adult he had been forced into becoming far too fast. "I can't think at all right now. My head is so scattered."

It took every ounce of Cassie's willpower not to lean down and hold him. She bit her lip instead. Why couldn't anyone else seem to see how tired he was?

Ophelia saw Cassie's agitation as clearly as she saw the swirling darkness inside Tyrian's heart. Softly, she said, "Cassie? Take him to a room where he can rest. Introduce him to R.K. too, so he knows who to go to for anything regarding his quarters."

"No problem." Cassie lifted her hand as Tyrian got to his feet. Her eyes missed nothing of the way he carefully concealed his exhaustion and pain. Damn it, did he feel as if he had to hide everything? He didn't need to take everything on himself. "Follow me."

Liang started to get to his feet as they left the room. To his surprise, Ewan firmly put a hand on his shoulder. "He's upset!" Liang protested. "Surely you noticed! He needs someone to talk to or he'll keep it all inside! I've always been his confidant!"

Ewan shook his head with a smile. "Cassie can handle it. In fact, I think she should handle it. You saw them together, Liang. If they aren't in love before the week is out, I'll eat my hat."

"Week?" Ophelia smiled. "Ewan, they're already in love. They just don't know it."

All eyes went to the door. "Could be," Liang murmured. "Could very well be."

Tyrian looked around curiously as he and Cassie walked down the hall together. The underground base resembled an underground city built from a series of convoluted catacombs. He had never even known the catacombs existed. If he had, he would have definitely explored them. He loved to wander and see new places. "You guys have really gotten yourselves set up well down here. It must have taken a while to build."

Cassie glanced up at his face. He sounded normal enough, but the darkness was in his eyes again. Instead of answering the unspoken question, she asked, "Is the only thing keeping you on your feet that iron will I can sense?"

"Sometimes, yes," he admitted. He let out a hard breath. "I couldn't even begin to describe how much it hurts that Ben is dead. But I just . . . I just can't seem to cry or grieve. If I tried, then I might never recover. It doesn't make sense, but it's how I feel."

She hesitated and then went with her instincts. She reached out her hand and gently took his. His fingers automatically laced with hers, and the sense of belonging was so strong that both felt it as a literal spark between their flesh.

"How long are you to stay with the rebellion?" he asked.

She gave a little sigh. "It's . . . sketchy. I was assigned this task for as long as it takes to achieve freedom. If we are on the cusp of losing, I'm supposed to retreat back to the Clans to regroup."

"Nice of them to be so specific," he said dryly.

A little smile touched her lips. "Isn't it, though? But I suppose I'm not mad about it. Not as mad as I was. Things have . . . changed."

He glanced down at their fingers. "You're telling me."

She swung around a corner and let go of his hand. "R.K," she called as she approached a long counter where a young man stood, "Lord Tyrian needs a room." She turned to smile at Tyrian. "Lord Tyrian, this is R.K. He's our innkeeper. He keeps track of supplies and maintenance and the like. He also does a fair chunk of the cleaning."

R.K. gave a long-suffering sigh. "I need to find someone to help me. I'm wearing so many hats that I looked in a mirror and thought I was a coat rack." He offered a hand to Tyrian. "It's an honor to meet you, Lord Tyrian."

Tyrian shook his hand with a smile. "Likewise. You seem young for an innkeeper."

"I'm probably only a few years older than you," R.K. admitted. "But my parents were innkeepers, so it runs in the family." At the question in Tyrian's eyes, the innkeeper said softly, "They were murdered by Empire soldiers when they refused to give free room and board to the unit who had massacred the homeless shelter."

"I'm sorry," Tyrian said quietly. He held R.K.'s hand tighter. "I promise, no matter what I decide to do, I'm going to try to change things. Something's wrong. I know it is. So, I promise I'll try to make it better."

R.K. looked at him, a little surprised. "It's odd. Somehow, I believe you. I know you'll do it. You're very . . . inspirational, I guess." He nodded a little to himself as he handed over a key. "If you need someone to talk to, just let me know."

"I will, thank you." Tyrian looked at the key and saw that the number matched the number over one of the doors. He looked around for Cassie, but she seemed to have faded into the scenery. A little sigh caught in his chest. Her monk skills were going to be the bane of his existence. He was sure of it.

He managed to hold onto his composure until he got inside his room and had shut the door. He turned a lamp on low and looked around the small room. It was sparse, but comfortable. The bed looked soft and welcoming and a table had been heaped with books. He would have never guessed he was in a catacomb, under a city being brutalized by the Empire that had helped raise him. Ben would have loved the irony.

Pain stabbed through his heart. He slowly sank down until he sat on the floor. Shoulders shaking, he buried his face in his hands. He couldn't cry. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and rage, but he couldn't. All he could do was endure the waves of agony washing over his heart and soul.

Soft hands settled on his shoulders, and he looked up sharply to discover Cassie kneeling next to him. "How'd you . . . ?"

"I used the shadows to slip inside. It's a basic skill." She tenderly cupped his face with one hand. "You loved him."

His eyes closed. "He was my brother. Adopted, but after the first year, we both forgot. He was five years older than me. Liang and I found him after he'd escaped a brutal home. I was eight. We brought Ben home and my father and mother decided to adopt him. He was my best friend."

Her heart breaking for him, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his forehead. She couldn't bear to see him suffering. "I'm so sorry, Lord Tyrian."

His lips curved a little. "If you don't drop my title, I'll be forced to do something drastic." He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was soft and vibrant in the lamplight, burning with some sort of inner light that he felt rather helplessly lured toward. She was shorter than he was, even kneeling beside him. She should have seemed too small to protect him. But he felt . . . safe. If she was there, he would never be hurt. "Cassie."

Her eyes closed as his hand lifted to frame her face. "I'm supposed to be comforting you," she whispered. "I can't stop myself, Tyrian. I can't. I want to protect you so badly. I feel . . . I feel as if I was born for that sole purpose. When I saw you under attack . . . I went a little nuts."

"You looked amazing." He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips over hers. "I knew it was you. And I knew you'd save me. Even now, I feel safe near you. I should be thinking that you need me to protect you, but I don't." His lips teased hers again. "Tell me you're legal."

"I'm nineteen." The words were breathless and her hands dropped to his shoulders. She didn't know whether she wanted to push him away or pull him close. Her entire body throbbed with heat. Just the little brushes of his lips were driving her slowly mad. "I'm older than you are."

His lips curved almost wickedly, and she realized in shock that his intense seriousness hid a wildness and reckless danger as deep as the sea. He slowly pulled her closer, and his hands burned her where they curved around her neck and hip. "I like older women," he said softly, his voice huskier and deeper than she had heard it before.

"This is the biggest mistake I've ever made," she whispered in return. "Why can't I push you away?"

"Because I'm not the only one feeling it." His eyes met hers and he found himself falling into the blue flecks that glimmered like gems in the lamplight. "Where the hell have you been all this time?" he asked, and there was an aching loneliness in his voice.

It touched a chord inside her. She had never even realized that it had been his voice and his eyes she had been subconsciously seeking. On a desperate sound, she pulled him closer and kissed him wildly.

He tugged her onto his lap and deepened the kiss, his tongue hungrily thrusting past her parted lips. A low sound rumbled in his chest as her taste shot through him. He knew her taste. He knew the supple curves pressed so maddeningly against his body. His entire body was burning, his arousal throbbing painfully. He broke free of the kiss and buried his lips against her throat. Her scarf was in the way, and he impatiently removed it so he could taste her skin. "At the risk of being obvious, I want you like hell on fire."

She gulped in cool air but it did nothing for her control. Quivering with need, she dug her fingers into his tunic. "Yes," she managed to say, "that's definitely obvious. And I want you too. Oh this is madness!" She felt his lips moving across her throat and went deathly still as her heart skipped a beat. "Stop."

His head lifted sharply as he heard the fear in her voice. His eyes met hers and he lifted a hand to tenderly examine her throat. His eyes couldn't see anything in the shadows between their bodies but his fingers could. They found the thin scar almost instantly. Something volatile filled his eyes. "Tell me it was an accident." Her gaze dropped. On a rough breath, he caught her close and pressed her face to his shoulder. "I can't handle hearing about it now. But I want to know later."

"There won't be a later," she protested, although weakly.

He remained silent for several moments and then, with a smile, he let her go. "Alright," he said calmly.

Warily, she eyed him. "Alright?"

"I'm letting you have all the room you need to run. When you get tired of fighting the threads tying us together, I'll be waiting." He stole a quick but hungry kiss. "And I won't gloat or hold it against you. I'm willing to wait. I'm a very patient man."

And she was in deep trouble. She took a shaky breath and got off his lap. "One day at a time," she said firmly. "We only met this morning. There's . . . something between us. Neither of us know what it is. So we need to take it one day at a time. Before we even think of being lovers . . ."

He smiled. "Cas, we're already lovers. We just haven't consummated the relationship. We both know it."

Shaken, she looked down. "How is this even possible?"

"I don't know," he said simply. "But we'll figure it out. Until then, I'll stop pushing you. I won't promise not to kiss you, though. I'm not that strong-willed." A little dryly, he added, "My 'iron will' gives me the ability to withstand any event and keep strong in the face of deep emotional grief and trauma. It doesn't, however, seem to do anything to keep me sane about you."

"I better go." Before she climbed onto his lap and begged him to kiss her again.

"Might be a good idea." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips softly. "When's dinner?"

"In," her breath broke as his tongue teased the skin between her fingers, "in an hour or two."

"I'll be there."

She tugged her hand free and suddenly disappeared. Though the door couldn't open the way he was leaning against it, he knew she had left the room. He could feel her presence disappear, and it left him cold and lonely again. He closed his eyes on a sigh. Of all the rotten timing.

There came a light knock on the door. "Lord Tyrian?" Ophelia called. "I thought you might be feeling up to a walk with me."

He got to his feet and opened the door. Oddly, he did feel better. Cassie's unquestioning comfort and support had restored his balance. Nothing hurt other than his desire for her. "I might be amiable," he said by way of agreement.

Ophelia gave him a once over and hid a smile. "We have showers installed if you want to, uhm, freshen up before bed." Her voice was carefully neutral but laughter lurked inside. "The water's almost always cold, though."

He sighed. "Thanks." He fell into step beside her as she began to head down a hall. Much to his surprise, he felt very comfortable with her as if he had known her his entire life. "Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I do not mind." She linked her hands behind her back. "I was born in Caschin. I lived there with my parents and my older brother until I was fourteen. My brother is about ten years older than I am. He's an amazing strategist and trains other students. When I was fourteen, our parents died from a plague. Matthias and I ended up traveling."

"Is that how you met Kyle?" he asked.

"Indeed! I'm eighteen, for your information," she offered, "and he's nineteen. Ewan is twenty-one. Anyway, when I was sixteen, we came across the new Commune of the Soldiers. Kyle was there. He . . ." she considered her words, "was a rebel at heart. A handsome prince who desperately needed a princess to rescue. I needed a prince."

"So you fell in love at first sight."

"Uhm, no. We fell in love after I beat him at swordplay and he demanded a rematch every day for a week until I lost my temper and threw him in a river." She smiled when he laughed at her. He needed some laughs. He was far too serious. "We've been together since. When I decided to form this rebellion a year ago, it was hard convincing him. He wanted to wait until I was legal and he could court me. I told him there was no time, so he asked my brother instead for permission, and Matt agreed. Being engaged meant Kyle was my legal guardian for the next few months until I was eighteen."

"And your brother went along with it because he knew how bad things were." He lowered his gaze. "I wish I'd known how bad things were. I still don't even know if I want to help the Rebellion or if I want to go back to the Empire and work on them from there."

"I won't force your decision," she said gently. "I firmly believe it is a decision that you must make on your own. But there is something I have to tell you." She took a little breath. "I always knew that when I met the young man with an indomitable spirit in his eyes that I would soon die. You are that young man. So I will die soon. Very likely, I will be dying for what I believe in, so I don't regret it."

He said nothing for long moments, then, "Does Kyle know?"

"No."

"Ewan or Cassie?"

"No."

"Because they would try to stop it."

"Indeed." She studied him. "You seem amazingly calm for a man who just heard someone tell him that he was the harbinger of her death."

"I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," he countered wryly. "For you to be so calm tells me you expect something good to happen."

"Something good will happen," she assured him. "I can see it, Tyrian. Freedom for everyone. If I have to die to ensure the world will someday be at peace, then I don't mind it so much."

"And Kyle?"

"I'm not his soul mate." She smiled as she said it. "When I realized it, I was deathly jealous of whoever this mysterious girl that was meant for him was. But then I realized that . . . I don't have a soul mate. Not yet. Something inside me is incomplete right now. So . . . I'm okay. But I need you to promise me something. After I'm gone, let Kyle grieve. When you see the first sign of him pulling back up and on the cusp of being ready to let me go, tell him what I've just told you. It might be years, but will you help him?"

"Without hesitation."

"Good." She leaned up to gently kiss his cheek. There were no regrets in her heart and a curious calm existed inside her soul. Everything was happening just as it was supposed to happen. "Now then, about Cassie."

He sighed. "Neither of us understands a thing about what is happening between us. That being said, however, I'm giving her room to try to come to grips with it. I, of course, will be making absolutely no demands on her."

"Oh of course not," she agreed drolly, tongue in cheek. "You are, after all, a paragon of many virtues including patience and willpower."

His dark green eyes danced as they met hers. "How nice of you to notice."

With a laugh, she swung an arm around his waist. "Let's get dinner. You can help me keep Ewan and Kyle from getting into a food fight with Kell."

 

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Chapter 4->

Unraveling Stories - Chapter 2

<-Chapter 1

"My world has broken."

 

(Present)

"Is it just me," Ben asked idly as he looked out the front window, "or are the flocks of females getting bigger near the house?"

Marian shot a teasing grin at Tyrian who sat with his feet propped on a table. "Someone just became legal. And if I wasn't his cousin, I'd be after him too."

As of midnight, Tyrian had turned eighteen and was finally of the legal age for courting or being courted. Of course, that hadn't stopped the young women in the capitol from trying to get his attention since he had moved there two years before. He was tall at six foot, strong in the shoulder, muscular in all the right places, and his black hair and green eyes seemed perfectly paired to his handsome face.

He had been allowed to move to Trinan, the capitol of the Empire, at age sixteen. Ben, Marian, and Liang had moved with him, ostensibly to be his bodyguards as needed, but more because they didn't want him to be lonely. Annareal had been forced to remain in Teasarn to keep from distracting her husband and son alike.

Now, two years later, Tyrian was not only one of the best warriors in the Empire, but he was also on the cusp of stepping into a leadership role. He had already started picking up tasks normally assigned to his father; even Emperor Albanion looked on him with great respect. He was a master staff user, and his magical capacity was so immense that if he ever equipped a relic he would be one of the most powerful users in the world.

"So what is it you're doing today anyway?" Marian asked as she walked over to sit on the edge of the table. She had given up making him put his feet down. She could never order him to do anything.

Tyrian linked his hands behind his head. "Well, apparently the Monk Clans have sent a delegate to the Empire. They want to speak about the uprisings going on. Emperor Albanion is too busy to meet with the delegate, and my father is trying to put down a rebellion in another town. So the task fell to me."

"Monk Clans?" Marian asked curiously. "I've only heard of them in passing. What are they?"

"An impartial faction that belongs to no country, though they have branches in all of them," Liang explained as he walked in. "Exceptionally talented combatants who have trained in a specialized form of hand-to-hand combat that even brawlers like myself don't learn. You have to train for years and years to master a monk's skills, and most consider it a very good thing they are neutral in all countries. They would make a dangerous addition to any army, to be sure."

"I suppose then I should be honored I am speaking to them," Tyrian said.

"Don't make light." Liang firmly took Tyrian's feet off the table. "It's a great honor to be trusted with this."

"I wasn't making light. I stated facts. I'm not certain I feel honored at all, yet." Tyrian got to his feet with lethal grace. Dark and powerful, his serious nature and intense emotions gave him an unrivaled presence. "And to add another fact, we ought to be going now."

"May I go as well?" Marian asked. "I am considered one of your bodyguards."

"Of course." He glanced at Ben. "What about you?"

Ben smiled. "I have to go get . . . something."

Tyrian eyed his brother warily. "Last time you got me a birthday gift, it left me embarrassed for days."

"No, no. This is a good one. Promise." He glanced out the window again. Wistfully, he said, "Ginnie is certainly lovely."

Tyrian grinned. "Why do you think I dated her?"

"She still laments you never did more than that," Liang murmured softly.

"If she didn't, she wouldn't be outside." Tyrian tied on the green scarf that had become something of his trademark; it had been a birthday gift from Marian, and was his favorite possession since she had handmade it. He picked up his staff from near the door and equipped it on his back using invisible threads of magic.

Orikuans had figured out how to use magic for everything, including carrying items without straps, and they had even created personal pockets that effectively acted like backpacks capable of holding most anything. A lot of people carried weapons there, but Tyrian preferred to have his close at hand. Sure, it only took a moment to take something out of the invisible, weightless pockets, but that single thought could be the difference between life and death in battle.

Much to his vast amusement, when they got outside, Marian swept the crowd and announced, "Unless you can either arm wrestle Liang or out-heal me, you can't have Tyrian."

The crowd cleared.

Quickly.

"Enjoy being single forever," Ben murmured drolly.

Tyrian ignored him as he went down the steps to the road that led to the castle. His manor rested not far from the gates, as was the privilege and requirement of noble birth. In many ways, he envied commoners. They had more freedoms than noblemen.

The guards at the gate were used to Tyrian's presence, and likewise used to seeing Liang and Marian accompanying him. They let all three inside without issue. Tyrian sensed a presence once in the courtyard and turned as he realized someone approached. Seeing that it was the Prime Duke didn't relax him at all. The Duke was the Emperor's closest advisor. "Am I late?" he asked.

"Not at all." The Duke cleared his throat. "The delegate is waiting for you in the first floor drawing room. You can't mistake her. She's an imposing figure with much experience under her belt." He quickly scuttled away.

"That man is deathly terrified of you," Liang told Tyrian.

"That's because I know he's lazy and incompetent. And he knows I know." Tyrian led the way into the castle, his discomfort for the immense pomp and protocol carefully hidden. The castle looked like an exercise in overindulgence of the worst sort. No floor should ever be so polished that he could see his reflection, and no ceiling should ever be held up by dozens of gold pillars. Such a waste.

The first floor drawing room was located between a dining room and a guest bedroom. When he opened the door and walked in, the Duke's warning had him prepared for an older, powerful, and imposing figure dressed in the head-to-toe black that hallmarked monks in formal gear.

To his everlasting shock, what he saw was a young woman who could not be much older than he was. She was also more petite than he had expected, standing a few inches shorter than he did and possessing what looked like a graceful figure. Her thick hair glowed blue-black as it hugged her face, and her black eyes held little flecks of blue that sparkled under the chandeliers. She did wear black clothing, but not the formal gear of the monks. She wore instead casual black leggings and a black tunic. Only the utter stillness of her well-trained body belied her training

The punch of sudden desire slammed into him as if from out of nowhere. His hands burned with the hunger to get into her hair and to shape her body. If he let himself, he could practically know how her lips would mold to his and how her kiss would taste. Her eyes met his and widened with a matching shocked recognition, and he knew he was not alone in his knowledge.

Marian slid a glance at Liang. He didn't look at her, but a little, satisfied, smile curved his lips. Pointedly, he cleared his throat.

Both Tyrian and the monk jolted as if they had been shocked with a Lightning Relic. Tyrian recovered his wits first and offered a formal bow. "Hello. I'm Tyrian Southerwind. I was asked to speak with you on behalf of Emperor Albanion."

A delicate black brow arched. "On behalf of High General Donald Southerwind on behalf of Emperor Albanion, no doubt. I suppose I am lucky it didn't get delegated to the stable boy."

"Don't knock the stable boy," he countered blandly. "He plays a mean game of chesstac." He held out a hand. When she very warily took his hand, he brought her fingers to his lips. "Welcome to Trinan, my lady . . . ?"

"Cassie." Cursing the breathlessness in her voice, she tried to subtly tug her hand free. Despite the gentleness of his grip, it held stronger than any steel. Her heart fluttered and so did something low in her body. Why did he have to be so gorgeous, she wondered frantically. And why did simply looking at this man make her feel as if she could climb mountains? She would do anything for him if he would only smile.

"Then welcome to the castle, Lady Cassie." He slowly released her hand but only so he could take her elbow to escort her to the table in the room. "Have a seat before you pace a hole into the carpet."

"It's just Cassie. I'm not of noble birth." It was a warning for him and a reminder for herself. Their stations were too far apart for any relationship, no matter how hot the sparks between them flew. She sat down gracefully on one of the chairs and then flicked a glance at Liang and Marian. They had remained near the door but avidly listened anyway. "Bodyguards?" she asked Tyrian as he sat down across from her.

"Family first and foremost. Marian is my cousin; my parents raised her after her parents were killed in a quake. Liang is my mentor and tutor. He's a second father for me. And," he added mildly, "they also serve as bodyguards, yes."

"I see." She cleared her throat. "Well, let's get down to business. I'm here on behalf of the people of the Empire."

"That . . . is an interesting statement." He crossed his arms. "The Monk Clans are speaking for the people to their own Empire?"

She searched his face and intense green eyes. Nowhere did she see any indication that he knew what she talked about. Slowly, she said, "You don't know what's been going on? Why there is a rebellion?"

"I know what I was told by my father." He leaned forward with his arms braced on the table. "I'd like to hear the other side."

She debated mentally for long moments. "Can I trust you?" she asked softly, mostly to herself.

His hand softly covered hers. "Yes," he said quietly. His eyes met and held hers. "I would never betray you."

Something leapt between them. It flew between their eyes and where their skin touched. It was sharp and wild, as electric as a storm and as powerful as a quake shaking the land that welcomed the rain.

"Gods," Marian muttered under her breath as she shifted her weight. She could feel something in the air that made her skin prickle and her relic hum softly. "What is this?"

Cassie took a very long breath to fight the trembling in her body. She had not expected this man to be so devastating to her hormones. "Alright," she said. "I trust you, Lord Tyrian." She turned her hand over so that their palms pressed together. His skin felt hot and wonderful and tempted her in a way she had never been tempted before in her nineteen years. "The people are rebelling against tyranny."

His eyes didn't waver from hers. "The Emperor? Or the Empire in general?"

"There is no difference. For the last year, the Emperor has been choking down on the cities. People are going homeless in effort to pay their taxes. If you so much as accuse the Emperor of having bad breath, you're thrown in jail or worse. The armies that used to be so beloved have become monsters."

Liang started to speak, but Tyrian held up a hand sharply. His eyes probed Cassie's face. He believed her. There was too much intensity in her face for him to do otherwise. "Monsters?"

She drew a deep breath. "We of the Monk Clans were called in to the situation a month ago. A town had started to make noises like they were going to stage a protest against the Empire. To even forestall such a thing, the army rode in and decimated a homeless shelter." Helpless pain filled her voice as she whispered, "A dozen children were killed, amongst many others. The town lives in fear of their every word now."

He gently reached out with his free hand and brushed away a tear clinging to her lashes. "I hate it," he said quietly, "but I am willing to believe you. Is that why you are here now? To plead for the people?"

"To offer an ultimatum. The Monk Clans will side with the people and instigate war unless the Empire ceases its chokehold. And, I assure you, we have the strength to make such a thing difficult for the Empire." She pulled free and got to her feet. "You don't have to believe me," she said quietly. "You can see it for yourself. Visit any town beyond the capitol's walls and you'll see it."

Marian and Liang got out of her way quickly as she crossed to the door. She opened it and then paused and looked back at Tyrian. Aching sadness filled her eyes. "I wish you weren't Tyrian Southerwind. I wish you were a commoner."

The door shut softly behind her. And, not for the first time, Tyrian wished the same thing. His left hand curled into a fist on the table. The fingers of his right hand drummed lightly on the top of the table. His eyes narrowed, and he didn't notice when Liang and Marian came over to sit down beside him.

Marian's glance flicked to his hand. Why he had the mannerisms of someone who wore a relic and yet had no relic was beyond her. She gently covered his hand with hers. "Tyrian," she said softly. "Do you believe her more than you believe even your father?"

His sigh came out long and deep. "Yes," he admitted. "Don't ask me how, Marian. I just do. I just . . . know that she would never be capable of lying to me or hurting me. And I could never do the same to her." He lifted his hand and looked at it. "Something inside me . . . recognized her."

"That," Liang said mildly, "was fairly obvious."

The door flew open suddenly and banged against the wall. Panting from exertion, the maid in the doorway barely managed to say, "Lord Tyrian! Come quickly! Lord Ben has been wounded! Hurry, please hurry!"

Tyrian went white and rushed out of the room as fast as possible with Marian and Liang close behind. When he shoved his way through the crowd outside the castle gate, he lost whatever color had been left in his face. "Ben!"

Ben was lying on the ground with blood covering his body, and his shredded clothing bared a horrific amount of wounds. Soldiers knelt beside him and tried to stop the bleeding, but there was just too much damage.

Tyrian scrambled down the steps and knelt beside his brother. "Ben! Who did this?" His hand gripped Ben's tightly as Marian dashed forward and knelt down to begin using her relic.

"Didn't . . . see." Ben couldn't see or think straight. Everything hurt all at once. "Drained . . . me. Lifeforce."

A collective gasp rose from those watching, and Marian's hands fell away helplessly as her relic stopped glowing. Tyrian's face went tight and withdrawn as his eyes burned. All relic users had the ability to drain lifeforce from an enemy, but it was considered an incredibly taboo skill; unlike normal wounds, you could not be healed if your lifeforce was drained. Only time could mend such a thing, provided there was enough life left to be mended. Some very extreme circumstances made it acceptable to drain lifeforce, such as in self-defense where there were no other recourses, but to use it on a civilian like Ben was outright outlawed. In the Empire, such a thing was punishable by death for being a cruel and unusual torture.

"Where did this happen?" The turmoil inside Tyrian could not be heard in his even voice.

"Teasarn. As I . . . was leaving." His eyes closed. The pain was going away. He wasn't afraid. He had done what he was meant to do. He believed in Tyrian.

His hand went limp in Tyrian's as his eyes closed. A fist slammed into Tyrian's chest with razor tipped knuckles. With precision control, he put down Ben's hand and watched as the soldiers lifted his body to be transported to a holding chamber prior to funeral.

"Lord Tyrian."

Tyrian got to his feet but he didn't turn around. "My liege?"

Emperor Albanion came down a few steps and studied Tyrian's back. He knew that there was no better warrior. He had watched Tyrian grow from a child to an adult, and as an adult, he received certain permissions no child would. "You are free to return to Teasarn to seek your brother's murderer."

Tyrian nodded tightly. "I thank you."

"I trust you will take the appropriate action when you determine who is to blame." Albanion turned to look at the crowd. "Disperse," he ordered. "Leave Lord Tyrian be." To another soldier he said, "Send word to General Southerwind. Let him know what has occurred."

Tyrian said nothing as he went down the steps and headed with purpose toward the stables where his horses were kept. His face betrayed nothing of his emotions, and yet people still got out of his way as fast as was possible. A sort of aura surrounded him as something dangerous and violent, and it reflected in his fierce gaze.

Liang and Marian said nothing as they followed him. They knew he wasn't going to fly off the handle, but they also knew he needed their support more than ever. Marian had to bite down on her lip, hard, to fight the urge to cry. She had loved Ben as if he were her brother, too.

When they had ridden a mile out of the city, Tyrian rode closer to her. He reached over without a word and picked up his smaller cousin to set her in front of him. "Cry for both of us," he said quietly. "Because I can't."

Liang studied his young master in concern as Marian sobbed violently against Tyrian's shoulder. He had known Tyrian was the type who could not break, but he now began to wonder if that meant he could never truly heal either. Not a single tear had ever been shed by Tyrian in his life; instead, it often seemed as Marian cried for him. He himself just straightened his back and grew stronger. How long could he continue that safely?

It was not long before Teasarn appeared in their view, and Tyrian felt a little chill ripple down his back. He hadn't been back in two years. All his training and his duties had prevented him from going home at all. He had seen his mother once or twice when she had come to visit him, but that had been it.

The Teasarn of his memories had been a small farm town but deeply loved and cared for by the people. The town before him now looked as if it was on the verge of complete collapse. Streets were broken and in need of repair. The flower seller's shop had closed and looked as if it had been empty for months. No children ran around laughing and playing.

"By the gods," Marian breathed softly. She was once more riding her own horse, now that her tears had been spent. "What is this?"

Tyrian spotted the familiar face of the mayor and stopped his horse. He swiftly dismounted and crossed the street. "Mayor," he said. "What is going on here?"

The mayor blinked at Tyrian for a moment, not recognizing him, and then guardedness came into his eyes. "Lord Tyrian, we were not expecting you."

"I came looking for my brother's murderer," Tyrian explained calmly. "Ben was attacked and drained of his lifeforce in or around town." His sharp eyes saw some of the color leave the mayor's face. "Which alarms you more: that it happened or that I am investigating?"

"That is an outrageous insinuation!" As soon as the outburst left his lips, the mayor looked around sharply. When he saw no soldiers, his shoulders relaxed. "I am sorry, Lord Tyrian," he said quietly but sincerely. "Lord Ben was a good man."

Tyrian said nothing for long moments. His eyes moved up and down the street intently. People who had once always smiled at him now looked at him with distrust. Empire soldiers stood on every other street corner where they watched everyone and everything. It looked like the wartime occupation of a hostile town, not the peaceful protection of an Empire city.

"Tell me what's going on around here." It wasn't a request.

The mayor nodded instantly. He trusted Tyrian, no matter who he worked for. He had always felt that Tyrian had the eyes of a hero, the eyes of someone who would never hesitate to help those who needed it and bring down those at fault. "I am no longer mayor," he began. "I was removed from duty a year ago."

"Then who is in charge?" Liang asked.

"The Emperor."

Tyrian began to drum the fingers of his right hand on his left arm. "So he just rules everything rather than ask the people to elect a leader to report to him." That was new to him. He had heard nothing of it. "What's the current tax rate?"

"Seventy-five percent of all sales, or a minimum of one thousand gold per month, whichever is greater."

Tyrian nearly choked. "Excuse me?" he sputtered, his composure broken with that shocking information. "How can you survive on that?"

"We can't. We've been working together but . . . I'm afraid the last few months have been bad. We didn't have as much to sell to the capitol as usual and so we were short on payment." The former mayor lowered his gaze. "And ever since, there have been soldiers here. Slowly, people are losing homes and businesses."

"I'm not going to sit by," Tyrian said curtly. "I'll talk to my father and make him talk to the Emperor. This isn't just wrong, it's disgusting." His skin prickled in warning, and he saw from the corner of his eye as one of the soldiers lunged toward him. He drew his staff and turned at the same time, and he easily blocked the sword swinging for his head.

"Traitor!" the soldier snarled. "How dare you speak out against our emperor?" He jerked backward and leapt forward again, but Tyrian was already moving. He ducked under the strike and whirled around, and the staff cracked into the back of the soldier's head. The soldier dropped like a brick onto the broken cobblestone.

All hell broke loose. Every soldier in the vicinity came running toward the scene, and all drew weapons. Villagers scrambled to get inside to safety. Tyrian, Liang, and Marian found themselves surrounded in a matter of moments. "Do we have a problem?" Tyrian asked.

One of the soldiers narrowed his eyes. "Just because you're General Southerwind's son doesn't mean you can get away with anything you want to. It is treasonous to speak against the Emperor and the Empire!"

Icily, Tyrian asked, "Is that what Ben did? Is that why you killed him?"

"Ben?" Another soldier scoffed. "We didn't have anything to do with him."

Tyrian did not believe her. That many soldiers covering that much of the town couldn't have not seen Ben get attacked. "I see." His hand tightened around his staff. "Well, I'm not going to rescind my comment. The state of this town is deplorable. And I'm not going to accept it."

The soldiers lunged forward with a collective shout, clearly intending to change his mind for him. The first to fall was dropped by Liang's fist in his nose. Another fell when Marian smashed him in the head with her mace. Tyrian's staff was limited in ability at close range, but as soon as he had enough room to start moving, he began taking out the soldiers quickly.

He blocked a sword and slammed the end of his staff into the owner's stomach. As she fell, he sensed movement behind him. He turned sharply but not fast enough. The dagger slashed through his upper arm, biting through shirt and flesh equally. The pain numbed his entire arm and he found himself with only one hand to swing his staff.

Liang didn't realize the trouble until he heard the thud. He turned sharply to see Tyrian sprawled on the street while a soldier stood over him with a raised dagger. "Lord Tyrian!" He started to lunge forward, but he knew in the back of his heart that he wouldn't make it in time.

At the last instant, someone literally materialized in front of Tyrian as if appearing from thin air. The monk wore all concealing clothes, hiding even their face from sight, but they were brutally fast and efficient. They grabbed the soldier's wrist and twisted it so sharply that the breaking of the bone was audible. As the dagger fell harmlessly on the ground, the monk kicked the soldier hard enough that he went flying halfway across the street.

The monk pivoted on the balls of their feet and small star shaped blades flew from their hands. Each found a target. Any soldiers still on their feet hit the ground with meaty thuds. As silence descended, the monk knelt beside Tyrian and helped him sit up. His dark green eyes locked on the face of the monk and then pointedly looked in their dark eyes chipped with blue. The monk paused and then removed the headpiece they wore.

"Cassie." Somehow he had known, even before he had seen her eyes. He lifted his good hand to brush his fingers across her cheek. "Thank you."

"Thank me later," she said grimly. She took his good hand and helped pull him to his feet. Something dark and deadly churned inside her heart as she saw the wound on his arm and the bloodstains on his clothes. She would tear apart anyone who ever hurt this man. Protecting him was as essential as breathing, and somehow she knew it.

"Tyrian, are you alright?" Marian scrambled over and began to examine the wound. She cursed softly. "I need herbs. Magic alone can't handle this one. At least, not my magic."

There came a soft and intricate whistle in the air. Cassie's head lifted sharply, and her eyes flickered around. When Tyrian started to speak, she covered his mouth with a hand. "Be quiet," she told him very softly. "I'm taking you somewhere safe, but you have to be absolutely silent. All of you do."

Liang lifted a brow at Tyrian, wondering if he would take orders from Cassie where he had taken orders from no one else. Yet, somehow, he felt entirely unsurprised when Tyrian gave in and nodded in agreement without fuss. Liang simply fell into step behind them as Cassie helped Tyrian cross the street. There was, indeed, something quite unusual between his young master and the lovely monk.

They passed between two buildings into a small alley. Cassie paused for a moment and then gave a soft whistle that matched the one before. A hidden floor panel lifted instantly to reveal an entrance. Holding the door up was a handsome young man with blond hair and disgruntled blue eyes. "Let's go."

He ducked out of the way and Cassie climbed down first. She was followed by Marian and Liang. Tyrian had to climb down with only one hand, but he managed without complaint. When he got to the bottom, his eyes widened slightly as Cassie grabbed his good arm and dragged him along behind her. "Pardon me."

"Not pardoned." Under her breath, she muttered, "Damned idiot probably wouldn't ask for help if his arm was falling off!"

Politely, he said, "I would hope you're wrong. I certainly don't intend to test it, though." He didn't bother to try to break free. He may have been bigger, but he was fairly sure he wasn't stronger. "If you'd like to tell me where we're going, I'd be happy to walk without being dragged." He eyed Marian and Liang as he heard a snort of laughter from one of them. "And you can both be quiet."

He found himself unceremoniously dragged into what looked like a medical room. "Sit," Cassie ordered as she pushed him at a chair.

He sat, and a smile curved his lips. Marian coughed and hurried to collect the herbs she needed from the baskets sitting around. She wasn't going to say a word about how odd everything had gotten. She just busied herself with cleaning the wound so it could be healed.

"So." The blond stepped into the doorway. Something guarded and hostile lurked in his eyes. "You're Tyrian Southerwind."

"Much to my regret it would seem," Tyrian said quietly. He met the blue eyes studying him intently. "I'm not a threat to you."

"Oh, really?" The blond scoffed. "An Empire minion just happens to turn against his own people and conveniently be rescued by us. How do we know it wasn't a set up?" He rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his side. A Lightning Relic glowed where it was visibly etched into his right hand. "I don't trust you."

"Kyle Raitels!"

He jumped and turned guiltily. "Now, Ophelia," he began.

"Don't you 'now' me, you overprotective ninny!" The slender young woman behind him firmly shoved him out of the way and walked into the room with all the grandeur of a queen. She propped her hands on her hips and studied Tyrian intently. "Well. So you're Tyrian." She looked at Cassie. "You understated."

"Understated what?" Tyrian asked.

Slight pink climbed Cassie's cheeks. "Nothing," she muttered.

Ophelia Goldwind walked over and looked down at Tyrian. "Welcome," she said. "It would seem you're my unintentional guest. I'm Ophelia Goldwind. I'm the leader of the Rebellion Faction."

Tyrian blinked up at her. She looked barely older than his age. "You're young."

"Thank you," Kyle muttered distinctly.

"You be quiet!" Ophelia ordered him. She turned back to Tyrian with a smile. "Ignore my fiancé. He's overprotective in immense doses. But he's cute, so I endure." She ignored the pink on Kyle's cheeks and the smirking look that Cassie shot at him. Served him right! "Now, then. I understand that you spoke out against the Empire and got yourself in trouble."

"That about sums it up," Tyrian agreed. He let out a hard breath. "I didn't like what I saw today. I like even less that I believe what I saw was not just a rare occurrence." He looked at Cassie. "I believed you then," he said softly, "and I believe you still."

Ophelia leaned down until they were eye-to-eye. Her eyes looked more yellow than brown and seemed somehow familiar to Tyrian, as if he had known he might see them someday. And yet, they weren't entirely what he expected to see. It was an odd feeling.

For her, looking into his eyes brought a sudden peace and sense of rightness. She had always known that when she met the person with eyes like his that her destiny wouldn't be long in coming. She straightened up and smiled. "Why don't you finish getting healed? Once you're ready, you can come find me in my meeting room and we'll talk."

"Very well."

She turned and looked at Kyle. "He's the same size as you are. Go find a tunic for him to borrow."

He sighed. "Yes, dear." He knew better than to argue with her when she got that look in her eye.

She followed him out, and her long brown ponytail swung merrily as she went. Her choice of clothes as much as the sword at her hip said that she was a skilled swordswoman, but there was a distinct rhythm to her gait that indicated she had been raised by a private school. She had the graceful walk of someone from nobility.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Tyrian asked Cassie with a wry sigh.

She smiled just as wryly. "If I figure it out, I'll let you know." She heard an intricate whistle and sighed. "I'm being asked to gather the others. I suppose I will see you in a while."

He reached out to take her hand as she started to go past. "Thank you," he told her. "For saving my life."

Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt her pulse flutter everywhere at once. Why did his eyes have to be that color? Why did his intensity seem to slowly be pulling her in and his fierce will consuming her own? "You're welcome," she managed to say, and then freed her hand and hurried from the room as fast as she could.

"The Great Sage Tanelia is quoted as saying," Liang murmured, "that those who find themselves mired in the weaving of destiny may discover the most tangled threads are those connecting two souls."

"The Great Sage," Tyrian muttered, "isn't kidding."

 

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Chapter 3->