Page 151 of The Demon Tide

And now that he knows she might return his interest...

Or’myr huffs out a disparaging breath and glowers at the moon only to find himself swept up anew in its intoxicating mix of purple hues. His shoulders relax slightly, as if in reluctant surrender.

It’s only one night.Would it kill you to let yourself be drawn in just a little?

Everything changes tomorrow. The most massive deployment of Vu Trin forces west since the Realm War. Or’myr considers how he’ll likely be deploying with his Black Witch cousin and her allies, including the Icaral of Prophecy and a number of Vu Trin soldiers.

Such a stunning turn of events.

A throng of purple-garbed children jostle past Or’myr, shrieking with laughter as they trail floating strings of lavender runic orbs, drumbeats sounding from the pier boardwalk before him, music bright on the air.

The Wisteria grove opens to reveal a puppet show in progress in one of the garden’s plazas, puppeteers holding a giant purple Vo’Zish dragon puppet aloft on poles above a small plum-curtained stage, purple-hued deer, lizard and frog puppets cavorting around the dragon. The puppeteers begin to weave through the audience seated on a glowing carpet of violet moss, sounds of delight rising. Nearby vendors hawk heart-shaped wreathes of purple roses and Xishlon’lure moon-necklaces sold in pairs and supposedly magicked to embolden the wearers to express the love in their hearts.

Or’myr eyes the racks of necklaces, charmed by the idea and scoffing at the same time, that familiar bitter hurt knifing through the moon’s bedazzlement. He’s never been offered a necklace and likely never will be, not with his lightning bolt kiss and Black Witch lineage. And there are couples kissingeverywhere, these lower dockside gardens a notorious spot for couples to escape for secret, intimate encounters, even when this gratuitous love holiday isn’t giving them even more encouragement to be so outlandishly brazen.

Jealousy wells inside Or’myr as he passes besotted couple after couple tangled around each other in the grove’s shadows, some of the women so lovely...

Heat rises in his cheeks as a current of longing kicks up inside his lines.

Are you seriously pining for someone to grope against a tree? For Vo’s sake, you’re trying to free your cousin, the Black Witch, to stop the annihilation of the entire Eastern Realm. Not having someone to kiss is really quite minor at the moment. Get a grip on yourself.

Or’myr rounds a bend in the narrow path, his heartbeat picking up its rhythm as he catches sight of Tierney Calix. He knew she’d be on watch duty here, but still, the sight of her amidst all the purple flashes a lightning bolt around his heart.

She’s standing by the stream that winds through these gardens, her graceful dark blue hand resting on the stone railing that edges the tributary, her sapphire Wyvernguard uniform standing out in bold contrast against the purple-garbed Xishlon crowds. Her head tilts up as she looks over the panoramic view visible through a break in the trees, the crowded docks just beyond.

The breeze streaming from the Vo ruffles the deep-blue curls cascading down her back in a torrent of waves, and Or’myr’s pulse quickens, the lavender moon hanging above her like an enormous Xishlon rune orb whose sole, true purpose is to illuminate lovely Tierney with its soft violet tint.

But there’s nothing festive about Tierney’s expression, and the tension in her visage sparks both concern and beguilement in Or’myr.Sweet gods, she’s beautiful.

A flush blooms across the back of his neck as he wrestles with his frustratingly strong attraction to her.

You can never have her, so don’t even entertain the thought,he cautions himself.Even if the attraction is mutual. If you kissed her, you’d scare her off. Like you scared Yysh Nuu. Besides, half the single people in Voloi are going to be chasing after Tierney this eve, desperate for her to be their Xishlon’vir. She’s yourfriend.Your Wyvernguard research partner. Nothing more. You need to make peace with that.

He picks up his long stride, determined to keep his wits about him. “Tierney,” he hesitantly calls out by way of greeting.

Tierney turns, and the intelligence in her deep-blue eyes threatens to pull Or’myr under anew. She’s so damned brilliant. And fair-minded and brave.

And her mind...it’s so completely her own.

As he nears, Or’myr’s gaze is drawn to the pair of Xishlon rune necklaces dangling from her hand and a pang tightens his heart. Of course she’s been gifted with Xishlon’lure love necklaces. Of course she’s chosen someone to be with this last eve before the fight truly begins.

He comes to a stop before her, her serious demeanor so at odds with her possession of the whimsical jewelry.

“Why are you here?” Tierney asks with that unvarnished bluntness he finds so refreshing.

Or’myr glances at the festive couples streaming by and waits for a gap in the crowds before he responds. Two laughing young women stumble close, bumping him in the arm as they pass. Wreathes made of glowing lavender moons grace their hair, multiple Xishlon’lurenecklaces hanging around their necks. They’re dressed head to toe in glittering purple, their arms draped around each other. As they pass, they glance over their shoulders to flash bright, joyous smiles at both Or’myr and Tierney.

“Find the moon!” they call before breaking into flirtatious laughter, and Or’myr’s face warms in response to the traditional Xishlon greeting, a thinly veiled invitation to kiss...and more.

He sets his gaze back on Tierney, determined to maintain his composure. “I needed to pick up some zoisite.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It’s speeding the runic spells. I imagine you know that Vang Troi’s agreed to meet with her?”

Tierney nods, her gaze darting around, as well. “We were detained for a bit until we got word of it. How much longer till she’s freed?”

“Soon. Before morning. There’s not much to do at the moment but give it time.” He glances up, then gives Tierney a beleaguered smile. “And wait for this ridiculous moon to set.”

Tierney smiles, nodding with obvious understanding. “It’s surreal,” she says with a wave of her hand. “This tiny respite. Before the coming battle.” She gives him a meaningful look. “Take a moment to find your Xishlon’vir while you can, my friend.”

He gestures toward the necklaces in her hand. “Are you searching for your Xishlon’vir, as well?” As soon as the teasing words leave his lips, he regrets them. He meant for them to sound lighthearted, not awkward and conveying too much of his own Xishlonlonging to kiss someone.

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