Page 2 of Heart of the Shadow King

I can’t. If my gods-gift were awakened, I would be able to sense the presence of another living beast. As it is, there might be any number of cave devils hiding in my wardrobe, under my bed, up the chimney, and I would never know.

Vor sets me down on the bed, which is covered in debris. I brush dust and pebbles to the floor, while he makes a quick but thorough search of the chamber. Satisfied at last, he returns to me. “How do you feel now?” he asks, kneeling before me so that his eyes are once more level with mine. He takes both my hands in his.

“Weak,” I admit. I don’t tell him about the jolts of pain rippling through me at odd intervals. He has worries enough on his mind.

He lifts one hand to stroke my cheek, brow puckering. “I suppose that’s understandable, considering . . .”

“Considering I was dead not two hours ago.”

A shadow falls across his face. He leans forward, presses his forehead against mine. The shuddering intake of his breath wrings my heart. “Don’t ever leave me like that, Faraine,” he whispers. “Never again. Don’t go where I cannot follow.”

I smile, a gentle tilt of my lips. “I’ll never leave you willingly. Never by choice.”

He takes another ragged breath. Then he angles his face, his lips hovering over mine, a mere fraction of infinitesimal space separating us. I hang there, suspended in that space, waiting, longing.

He closes the distance, his mouth warm and eager. At the instant of contact, something inside me thrums to life, a faint echo of my former gift. In that echo I feel, however distantly, both his hunger and his desperation. It flows through me, driving out all pain as my own hunger, my own desperation, rises to answer his. Though my arms are still weak, I wrap them around his neck, thread my fingers through his hair, and pull him closer, closer. He responds, bowing me back over the bed. There’s grit at my back, fallen debris sharp against my skin and the thin black robe wrapping my body. I scarcely notice. All I know is my need for him, my need to deepen this connection between us. My hands run over his shoulders, his neck, his torso, finding all the cuts and wounds from his recent battle. He came to find me straight from the horror of the cave devil attack, straight from fighting to preserve the lives of his people in the face of unimaginable savagery.

But he’s here. With me now. His hands press into the bed on either side of my face, his huge body poised so as not to crush me even as his mouth covers mine. His kisses grow more adamant, demanding, as though he cannot believe I am real and requires proof. I’m still not certain myself and need his touch to anchor me to this world. I open my mouth, deepening both our kiss and our connection.

A bolt shoots straight to my heart. A burst of raw red light explodes in my head.

Fear.

Dread.

Guilt.

These are Vor’s feelings. Wrapped in his love but no less real, no less dreadful. They fill my head until it seems like many small pins are trapped inside my skull, struggling to escape through my scalp. With a gasp, I pull away from him.

Vor peers down at me, propped up on his fists, his long silver hair falling in a gentle veil around us. “What is it?” he asks, panting. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want him to know that he is hurting me. I don’t want to let him go. Instead, I grimace, gripping his shoulder with one hand while the other seeks my crystal pendant. I wrap my fingers around the faceted stone. It does not respond no matter how hard I squeeze.

“Faraine?” Vor’s voice is confused, tinged with fear. “Faraine, my love. Have I hurt you?” He pulls back, breaking free of my weakened arms. He sits on the edge of the bed, head bowed, and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m such a fool! Forgive me. I’m behaving like a lustful cad when you’ve just—”

“No, Vor.” My voice is unsteady. But the moment contact is broken, numbness spreads through my body. The pain of his emotions is so thoroughly gone, I have to wonder if I somehow invented it. I open my eyes, still gripping my crystal, and meet his stricken gaze. “It’s not you. I swear. The . . . the shock of everything . . .”

He leans forward, cups my face in his palm. I wince, expecting that touch to open a conduit between us. But there’s nothing; numbness holds sway. I shiver and drop my gaze, uncertain how to feel. I’d almost prefer the pain of his guilt to this absence.

“You must rest,” he says, his voice firm. “You must sleep, recover.” He shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “I’m sorry, my love. I cannot help how badly I want to make up for all the time we’ve lost.”

I touch the hand still cradling my cheek. “I want to experience everything with you, Vor. I want to fill whatever moments we have left.” Then, taking his hand, I draw it down to my heart, pressing it there. “But your people need you now.”

He leans forward, his eyes holding mine. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“In that case, send Hael. When you find her.” I smile and tip my head a little to one side. “I’ll be fine, Vor. I swear it. After everything that’s happened, what could possibly frighten me now?”

His eyes search my face, seeking perhaps to pierce my façade of calm. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I fear the moment I leave your sight you’ll slip away from me. A dream lost to the brutal realities of the waking world.”

I lift his hand to my lips, kiss his knuckles. “I am no dream. And I will be here, awaiting your return.” Pushing him from me, I finish in a firm voice: “Go. Be the king Mythanar needs.”

He draws a long, steadying breath. Then, grasping me by the back of my head, he pulls me to him, capturing my lips once more. Immediately the connection between us opens wide, shattering the numbness as the intensity of his feelings radiate through me. There’s still pain here: fear and anxiety and always that terrible pulse of guilt. But just now, just in this moment, all other feelings are drowned in a flood of pure love.

Almost I succumb to the temptation to grab hold of him, to pull him to me, to take back everything I just said and keep him here with me. But I don’t. And when he breaks away from me and rises from the bed, he doesn’t look back. He strides across the debris in the room, steps through the window onto the balcony, never once pausing. As though he knows even a single glance will break his resolve.

The next moment, he mounts his morleth and is gone. Leaving me alone.

It’s a strange sensation. One I’ve not felt to such a degree in a long, long time. Not since that terrible day when my gods-gift awakened, and my soul nearly drowned in the onslaught of other people’s emotions. From that time onward I’ve lived an existence of constant connection, willing or otherwise. Even when I first arrived in Mythanar, and the feelings of the troldefolk lay beyond my reach, I wasn’t unaware of them. They were still present, humming on the edge of perception.

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