Her eyes stung with overwhelming, relieved tears as Tristan landed at a colorful house on the hill abutting the city. She rushed across the wide avenue along the water’s edge, pushing through the crowds.
Though the streets themselves were wide enough for two vehicles to traverse side-by-side, the narrow sidewalks held barely enough room for a couple to stroll down shoulder-to-shoulder, the stone worn slick and shiny by years of wandering tourists. She bobbed and weaved around the current crop, suppressing an urge to shout at the meanderers to walk faster or get the fuck out of her way.
Five blocks up, she turned onto a less crowded side street that flowed up to the hill. She rushed past several storefronts, then came upon a long expanse of sandstone wall topped with a red-tiled roof.
Shit.
She was back at the Temple.
Rushing past an old man sweeping the sidewalk in front of his well-kept storefront, she was about to cross to the next block when a bell jingled.
Someone leaving the old man’s shop.
The back of her neck prickled and she turned, her lungs seizing at the sight of long black hair and glowing yellow eyes.
She’d barely lifted her leg to run when a pale, supernaturally strong hand encircled her wrist.
Alexei’s scar pulled taut as his lips stretched wide and his fangs popped out.
He clenched something in his other hand. Streaks of glimmering rainbow light glowed between his pale fingers.
“We will so enjoy watching Maksym teach you this lesson the hard way,” he sneered before bringing her hand to his mouth and raking a shallow gash across her wrist.
Cassandra’s name was on the tip of Xenia’s tongue before paralyzing pain seared through her veins and the world melted away in a haze of crimson mist.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
The faded red scar on Tristan’s palm was mocking Cassandra.
Each time he reached for a book, each time he turned a page, each time he tucked a strand of his onyx hair behind his ear, the scar filled her mind with destructive whispers.
He Turned a human Fae.
He didn’t offer to do it for you.
He has no desire to keep you in his life for any longer than a single mortal lifetime.
If Tristan noticed her increased attention to his scar, he didn’t bring it up.
She struggled to quiet the callous voice as they searched the Temple library in Meridon for texts referencing the Fallen Goddess.
Since the Meridon Temple of Letha was much smaller than the Temple in Thalenn, its library was more like a reading room. Only four parallel rows of stacks occupied the quiet, oak-paneled hall, with books organized not by title or author but by year of publication. The unique organizational system made searching for relevant texts rather difficult, even with a consultation from the lone, harried librarian.
Rushing along the stacks behind a clattering push-cart, the silver-haired Sister had snatched book after book from the over-stuffed shelves before depositing Tristan and Cassandra at a small table nestled in a hidden corner.
At the sole other table in view, an older balding gentleman with a ring of jet-black hair gnawed on the end of unlit pipe as he flicked through a leather-bound book.
“Come over here and take a look at this,” Tristan whispered.
Cassandra closed her own book, then rounded the table and sank into the chair next to Tristan. He cupped his wing around her back and pressed his shoulder against hers, dragging his fingertip along a thin, crumbling page. “This is one of the oldest books in the stack. A transcription of an oral history detailing life in Ethyrios in the centuries before the war.
“Before the Accords, nearly the entire Fae and human population in Ethyrios worshiped a Creator Goddess named Adelphinae.”
“Delphae,” Cassandra murmured, recalling the bright star depicted in the mural that blanketed the ceiling of the Temple library in Thalenn. “It was named for her.”
“Sounds like it,” Tristan nodded.
“And your father renamed it Erabis after the Accords.”
