"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.
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