Page 128 of Haunted

Sudden blackness chokes my vision. My body rears back, angling my chest upward. My torso bends and cracks. I scream.

The invisible tether to the prince snaps. A clean break. I gasp and collapse onto the wet stone.

The prince is gone, and I am free of him.

82

I stand at the library window, studying the river in the distance. Ships row upstream to port, with captains eager for summer trade. Many of these ships come from Terrin, Ahnalyn’s homeland.

My life has been quiet without Kenrik nagging me. For seven years, he was in my head. It’s funny the things I miss, even though they’re short-lived.

I have something new to look forward to though.

General Gethen strides into the room.

“My lord, you sent for me,” he says.

I know he’s knelt on one knee without even turning. I let Gethen wait while I reaffirm my decision.

Ahnalyn has been stewing in her inner turmoil for eleven years. She’s a young woman, and as I scan the horizon with my inner light, I know she’s blossomed just enough. She feels guilty because of her mother’s death though she’s not sure why. Her memories of the event are fuzzy. Her darkness lies dormant, as does her light. She hovers on the precipice of insecurity. She is ready to be molded.

“It is time, Gethen,” I say. “March on Terrin and bring her to me.”

“Yes, my lord. As you wish.”

83

The damage is vast. Gethen sweeps in just as I expected. He’s a ruthless man. Once he crossed the mountain separating my realm from Lord Brenin’s realm, his course is straight and true. Gethen takes his month-long journey of decimation right into the heart of Terrin, to the capital, Hyledd.

My daughter dwells there, where she’s become Hyledd’s lady. It’s a happy coincidence that she married Brenin, Kenrik’s cousin. I can punish Kenrik in death by hurting his loved ones who are alive.

I’m proud of her accomplishments, something she’s done all on her own, despite the truth her mother has concealed from her.

That she’s a dragon rider.

That her mother was an immortal.

Ahnalyn has been living as an ignorant human all these years.

I can’t wait to tell her the truth.

Gethen rewards me with the death of Ahnalyn’s husband during a skirmish at the outskirts of the great city. The lance to Lord Brenin’s heart is a lance to hers. His death crushes her, but I’m prepared for the backlash.

While in her heartache, Ahnalyn will learn the truth of her heritage and her power, and she will become unstoppable.

With much anticipation, I travel to the outpost where Gethen gathers his men. Ahnalyn is taken prisoner, according to my wishes. I’ll cast my physical eyes on her in the flesh for the first time. Elation pulls me across my country. I cannot wait for her to come all the way to my citadel. She draws nigh, and her ache, her turmoil, her sadness becomes mine.

Welcome, child. You will know of me.

84

All eyes are on my daughter as she sits tall in her saddle and lifts her chin while riding into the outpost. I study her from a window. She’s frightened. Her eyes don’t scan the crowd, rather she stares straight ahead.

I straighten my robe and brush my long, stick-straight hair from my eyes. My heart races with excitement, but I draw on my skills of deception and quell the galloping muscle. I doubt Ahnalyn has figured out how to discern emotions, but I must always be cautious. I emerge from the main wooden dwelling, nothing more than a squat cottage, as Gethen and Ahnalyn pause out front.

My daughter and I look the same age. Her skin is pale, and her hair is lacking in luster because of being on the road for weeks. Under her calculated demeanor, she’s bruised. A foul word from one of the men in camp drifts to me, and Ahnalyn winces.

I flash a cunning smile. I must show her I’m here to protect her virtue. “Watch your tongue, men. We have a lady in the camp. We must protect her delicate spirit.”

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