I run my fingers over the fine selection of pencils. “See you in a few days.” I smile.
“I’ll hunt you if you haven’t appeared by lunch.” He nibbles my neck. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”
I pinch my lips together to stop myself from asking him to hunt me right this second.
“I heard that.” He stands and turns, giving me a view of his perfect ass. The white kerchief covers even less than I realized, and I don’t know if I want to climb him or laugh.
“Both,” he says as he walks out the opaque doors and leaves me alone in his mother’s garden.
Everything here is almost too lovely to sketch. How can I do justice to a flower that corkscrews into the air and is adorned with small golden buds that glisten and glow?
I suppose I have to try.
It takes me a while to choose the right paper and a sketching pencil with a fine enough point that I can smudge away my screwups before I get too serious.
I start sketching, choosing the difficult corkscrew flower to work on. Of course I don’t take the easier foliage, because isn’t that just me all over?
After half a dozen sheets of paper, I finally get the twisting structure correct. Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I keep going.
I don’t realize someone’s standing next to me until a shadow falls across my work. Jumping, I barely catch my pencil before it drops to the ground.
“Lana.” Onin stands beside me, his eyes troubled.
“What is it? Are you okay?” I jolt to my feet.
“There’s been an attack on one of the envoys travelling home from the memorial service. Sentients.”
“They have no shame. What can we do?”
“The reports are that their ship is disabled, and the Sentients have left them to die. They’re close enough for us to reach them, but they’re running out of time.” Both sets of his hands are wringing, his face ashen. “At least I think we are. I was hoping you’d be able to come with me. With your healing powers—”
“Let’s go.” I’m already striding toward the doors. “We have to help.”
“Here.” Onin opens a portal.
I turn and hurry into it with him at my back.
“Lana?” Kyte calls through our bond.
“The Sentients attacked a transport full of mourners leaving Latrides. I’m going with Onin to help the wounded.”
“Come pick us up.” Ceredes stomps into the conversation. “Jeren’s probably going to drown if you don’t.”
“I’m great at the diving part. Swimming, not so much.” Jeren sputters, and I can feel that he’s soaked to the bone.
The ship is already humming as Onin takes the controls.
“Can we pick up the guys? They’re nearby on one of the beaches.” I peer out the front window as we take off, the palace shrinking beneath us.
“No time.” Onin gives a terse shake of his head and points to a co-pilot seat. “Strap in.”
“Kyte can heal, too.” I sit and draw the safety strap across my waist. “Maybe we should …” But my words fade as Onin takes us straight skyward, through the atmosphere, and hurtling into space.
“No time,” he says again.
“There’s no time. We’ll do what we can, then we’ll come right back.”
“I don’t like it.” Ceredes seems to prowl my mind with heavy steps. “Come back.”
