I crept into the dark hall, peeking down each corridor in search of any intruders. Yet as I approached their door, soft cries reached my ears. I froze, breath catching in my throat as I waited for another sound.
If they were coupling, I definitely didn’t want to intrude.
Heraphia’s sob tightened my ribs. I eased closer, my steps featherlight.
What could Heraphia possibly be crying about?
We hadn’t spent enough time at the other estate to grow attached to it or anyone around it. I’d grieved my fair share of places and people. But at the moment, I felt nothing.
I pressed my ear to the smooth barrier between us. Heraphia whimpered. Zuriel shushed and soothed her, but his words were too muffled to hear.
My fingers twitched toward the twisted metal handle. If they weren’t having sex, I could still enter, still sleep with themso I felt safe enough to close my eyes. My palm wrapped around the gilded knob.
“I’ll ride into town, early, and send off your prophecy. No one will see me at the aviary.”
I froze.
Heraphia had Seen something? Encompassing enough for Zuriel to name it a prophecy? And to want toshare it?
A storm of emotion swirled inside me. On the one hand, it wasn’t a vision of our imminent capture by the Issaraeth and the other royal hunters. On the other, his even tone, crumbled to bits and hoarse, shook me to my core.
Whatever she had Seen, it wasn’t good.
A haunted, malignant energy rippled from within the room. I released the handle and took a healthy step back. This was why I made virelthorn my religion. These dark prophecies, flashes of violent futures, promises of death and decay, it was all a curse.
An understanding of sorts existed among Elessarum Seers that we wouldn’t press for details. For many of us, it was too traumatic to speak of what we’d Seen.
Especially for those of us who snapped into our power far too young. An Angel reached initial maturity at one hundred and sixty, and most came into their power in the decade or two before that.
Heraphia and I had spent nearly half our lives with them by the time we came of age.
Dread prickled the tips of my fingers. I continued my retreat into the spare sleeping chamber, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. I locked it for good measure too, like that tiny key in the tiny hole would snuff out all opportunities for the Goddess’s magic to sneak into my mind and show me that which I did not wish to See.
I chewed a few more virelthorn leaves as I crawled back intothe bed. A shiver wracked my frame, and I tugged the robe tighter around myself to ward off the otherworldly chill.
Gazing out the windows, I traced the moonlit shapes of potted citrus trees in the courtyard. Tried to calm my mind. Tried to slow my racing heart.
Eventually, my breathing evened. The exertion of fleeing caught up with me. My eyelids drifted closed.
And stayed.
Until a heavy knock tore me awake.
5
Ibolted upright in bed, hand flying to cover my heart. Brilliant sunlight speckled wood slats and danced over cloaked furniture.
Where am I?
The pounding reverberated again. I ripped my gaze to the courtyard, straight into a pair of cerulean irises.
A scream shredded my throat, and I leaped from the bed, racing to the bathing chamber. I had to get clothes on and get out of here. Glass shattered like a hailstorm behind me. I slammed the door shut, throwing the lock into place. Wood creaked as a body rammed into it.
I snatched half-dry clothes from the floor, letting the robe drop without care for who might be outside to glimpse my breasts. A bind secured them a moment later, and then I shrugged on a loose tunic. In the next breath, I yanked up my tights and socks.
The male who broke into my room shouted through thebarrier between us, but I couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in my ears. Hands shaking, I shoved the rest of my meager belongings into my bag and slung it over my shoulders.
The door splintered, and I whipped around, finding a meaty hand groping for the long lock.
