Skyre sighed, massaging his temple with his thumb. A song tiptoed into his mind.
“Little wolf all on his own… little wolf, Moon calls you home…”
A wisp of smoke stirred on his periphery. A cool breath grazed his neck. He stiffened, eyes darting as the moon priestess appeared at his shoulder. “My Vaich, you seem tense. What ails your troubled heart?”
“Shouldnae you be in bed?” he asked, curtly.
“My mind wanders too far in the night. It seems the same is true for you.” Her fingers ghosted against him, dipping into the fur of his mantle. He’d been with many women, and he knew their touches well. Yet, the Speaker was uncanny.
“You are not like your sisters,” he muttered.
Her laugh pressed into his ear. “Not all daughters of Nythis are equal. Some of us were born of silver blood.”
“What do you mean?” He felt as if weighed by anchors as Hirí’s hands slipped lower, drawing his mantle apart.
“So much chaos in your dark… You could lay it all upon me.”
He rolled his shoulders, but found the movement hindered. Growing unease tensed his muscles. “It’s no business of yours.”
“Yet I see it well. You who are so unwilling to admit… So unwilling to submit. Hefascinatesyou, doesn’t he?”
His brows dragged together. “Who...”
“Our little queen… There is something so delicious about him. A power,” she murmured. “You feel it, too. He is different.”
“He is a druid and nothing more.”
She giggled. “Oh, that you might think so. What would your mind tell me in silence?” Her finger traced his jaw as he struggled there. He felt tethered, and she did not release him.
“What are you—”
“Ah, it is fear. Tell me, is it his silence that makes you quiver? His resent that drives you wild? Or…” He could feel her grin against his skin. “Is it the way you can still remember yourself inside him?”
Dread doused him cold, and he was on his feet in an instant. “Get away from me.” His eyes landed on the place she’d been, now empty and harrowing. He spun around, seeing nothing but the slumbering mead hall.
“Impossible…”
Arms entangled him. Her whispers swallowed his mind. “You see yourself his monster. You lust for his hate… You crave his taste. Just like before.”
He gasped. “It isn’t true!”
“How desperate you are. Won’t you admit it? The pleasure you take in his pain.”
“I never wanted to—”
“He won’t forgive you.”
“Leave me be!”
“My liege?”
His head shot up.
Before him stood Nacht—a jarring break in his reverie.
Skyre shivered. “A-Aard…?”
“Is everything… alright?” Nacht eyed him warily.
