Page 57 of Haunted

I urge Albus to take off. He lands on a statue, where I can now see her face. No one notices or cares about the raven stalking them.

The prince meets her halfway. “Niawen—”

I’m in awe. Niawen. My dreams and visions will now have a name. My heart calms.

“What can I do for you?” The prince touches her wrist.

I’m instantly jealous. It’s unreasonable, I know.

“Your Highness—” she begins.

“Please, just Kelyn.”

Ah. Crown Prince Kelyn. He’s young. But valiant, I’m told.

Nothing compared to Niawen.

She’s radiant, clothed like a queen. Fresh as a newly opened flower. My throat constricts. I’ve never seen such perfect beauty, except in one other person, Mother Siana.

The bloodline of the pure emrys carries the traits of blond hair, green eyes, and porcelain skin. These attributes confirm that my lady obsession is an emrys. Niawen is as flawless as Siana.

As I study her, I cock my raven’s head. Albus tries to preen his feathers, but he can’t fight against my control. I need to release him so he can find sustenance and take care of himself, but the emrys holds me mesmerized.

She moves with confidence as she strides up to the crown prince. She’s strong, but hiding hurt.

Pain, as I know it.

She swallows and bobs her head as she talks. I’m lost in her, in her movements. I don’t pay attention to her words.

They are joined by the other prince and the child, who’s carrying an armful of balls.

Then Niawen does the most endearing thing—she gnaws on her bottom lip. I take that as worry. Or maybe she’s uncomfortable because the two princes are staring at her with intensity.

When she exhales and her shoulders relax, I relax with her. Until I hear Mother Siana’s name from her lips.

“The sorceress you speak of was Siana. She’s the only other emrys to leave Gorlassar. Her dragon was Nimue—a pinkish flesh-colored dragon. Is that whom you remember from the scrolls?”

Interesting. Centuries have passed since Mother Siana left the immortal dragon world, and I marvel that Sieffre’s people have a record of her. And Niawen knows of Siana. The prince calls her a sorceress, a term the mortals give women who possess power. They must not know what an emrys is.

The second prince nods. “The creature was the color of pale skin. Yes. With talons and scales. Kelyn, you remember the picture. A giant, fearsome beast with wings like a bat’s. The sorceress sat upon her back.”

“Yes, Kenrik, that’s her!” Niawen’s body comes alive with excitement. What’s her story? Why has she left the dragon world? Does she feel alone? She has much joy over news that Mother Siana and Nimue once passed through Talfryn.

“I came with a dragon—my dragon sister, Seren,” Niawen says.

A dragon. Pain cuts through me. I have not seen a dragon since Neifion. The pain of his death never leaves.

Niawen clutches the fabric of her dress, a subtle movement, but I catch it. She’s nervous.

Her eyes dart to each brother. Kelyn, tall and wiry, and Kenrik, shorter but all bulk.

“Where is she?” Kenrik asks.

“She’s been hiding,” Niawen says. “We didn’t want to scare anyone. This is such a new world, and we were waiting for the right opportunity to show her. I was going to tell you about her later today.”

“But…?” Kelyn shifts his weight, as if settling in for an explanation.

“She’s on her way here.”

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