I braced myself on the trunk of a tree. The rough texture against my palm grounded me, gave me strength.
I breathed through the pain, dragging air in my nose, shoving it out my mouth.
Moonvale came back in bits and pieces.
First, the chirping of a bird somewhere in the distance, the rustle of branches flowing in a breeze.
Then the smell of crisp leaves, wet dirt, toasted vegetables somewhere far away.
And finally, my own feet, planted against dry, smashed grass.
My pulse thundered so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I took a moment to gather my bearings, running my hands through my hair and straightening my cloak.
And then I remembered what started this strange fit.
The painting.
Lady Darkness Herself.
The Original Shadow Wielder.
Who wasthat?
My mind went blank again. I had no fucking idea.
I shivered just thinking about it.
The crowd of idiots had thankfully drifted to the other end of square, leaving no witnesses for whatever the fuck had just happened to me.
When I was sure I wouldn’t stumble, that the light wouldn’t blind me, I lifted my head, allowing my eyes to drift.
My wife. Where had my wife gone?
She wasn’t where I’d last seen her—near the center of the clearing, clutching that cursed painting in front of her.
It took me a moment to spot her, and when I did, my shoulders dropped an inch.
She was with the group, of course, but she was toward the edge. She nervously laughed at something the green witch said, and then her eyes flitted around, as though unsure where to settle. Every few seconds she glanced toward the three dragons playing in a pile of discarded paints.
She was certainly searching for her husband, whether she realized it or not.
The corner of my mouth curved in a wry smile.
My smart, sneaky wife. Even if she denied me, she still sought me out.
My mouth dropped into a flat line again.
And there was something strange about her painting. Something powerful. Was the faun woman somehow a dark mage? A magic wielder? A prophet? How could I possibly have missed that?
Were there clues that I overlooked? I watched her so closely, so carefully…
Perhaps there was another explanation.
I would cherish her regardless, of course, but it would be rather inconvenient to clean up her sacrifices and murders all the time, if dark magics were part of her routine.
I supposed every relationship had its burdens.
