Page 58 of Shrine of Fire

He flinched. It was a low blow, but I had to put this into context. It was all well and good to say it was better to have love and lost than to never have loved at all.

But when you had a gaping wound in your chest where your heart used to be, you reconsidered whether it was better or whether that was a lie we told ourselves.

“Yes.” The phoenix stroked his hand through my hair. “You would rather have had your pack, yes?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “It was worth it, loving them. But it hurts.”

“There is the answer.” He kissed the top of my head. “At this moment, there is more pain than love in your life. When the pain becomes an old wound and not a fresh bleeding cut, you will be ready to move on.”

I nuzzled my face against Kalahar’s shoulder, into his gentle comfort. What he said filled me with a weak sort of hope.

This wasn’t forever. It was a wound, healing, and someday, like with a broken leg, it would be healed enough to walk on.

I only hoped I didn’t push away everyone I cared about while I was in the process of healing.

The next day plans to visit the Shrine of Rolling Clover were well underway.

Stefan and Lord Baylin had politely argued for an hour over the dinner banquet if it would be me and my unofficial pack going to the Shrine, or the entire Ember Island retinue, until Cuan stepped in with a charming smile and comment about wanting to spend some quality time with us.

The compromise was that it was promised that Lord Baylin and the rest of the courtiers would travel into the highlands to join us after we’d attended the Shrine of Rolling Clover.

It was a two day’s journey north to see the Spirit Lights, where we would stay in a small cabin, and then make our way to the Shrine.

Since we wanted privacy, and many people did not have the spiritual “clearance” to visit the Shrine, it would be me, Hashir, Aki, Stefan, Kalahar, and Cuan.

It should have been an exciting prospect to have all those sexy men in one covered wagon with me. But truth be told, the thought made me tired. While Cuan’s people prepared for the trip, I took the chance to explore the four rooms dedicated to making yarn out of sheep’s wool and other fibers, glad to have the chance to watch the artisans who worked with the wool.

I was admiring how the simple action of a wheel controlled by a pedal spun the cleaned wool into yarn, and trying to stay out of the way, when Cuan entered the room abruptly. He stopped short when he saw me, then his face lit up. Almost like he’d been looking for me, but still surprised when he found me.

“Your sweet mate knows the Sacred Arts,” Glena said. She was an older lady with hands quicker than mine could ever hope to be as she’d shown me how to feed the wool so that it could be spun into yarn. I was already wondering how sheep would fare in a tropical climate like Ember Island’s, so I could spin my own wool.

“Yes.” As Cuan answered Glena, his smile reached all the way to his eyes, and I could see now why his turn of boorish behavior had shocked his friends and family. “I’ve told her I would show her how to do the cabling stitches.”

Cuan looked back at me, and I was sorry to see that his smile dimmed. “I was wondering…if I could have a word with you.”

“Don’t let me get in the way,” Glena grinned. “I’ll take some of this to the dying rooms.”

Glena left, and I found myself alone with Cuan. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as I ran my hands over the soft, fluffy wool in the basket in front of me. I had been passing the carded wool to Glena to feed it into the spinning wheel, but now that she had left, I was stumped on how to pick up where she had left off.

Cuan sat down next to me, where Glena had been sitting, and pulled some wool out of the basket in tufts. He ran his hand over the top of the drive wheel to get it going as he started pedaling, then started rolling tufts of wool together between his fingers to feed into the spindle. I copied his movements, and we found a steady working pattern.

Cuan cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to ask what I want to ask.”

I snorted. “You haven’t had a problem being blunt so far.”

“That was…different.” The beta’s cheeks reddened enough that I could see it through his beard. “This isn’t something I can’t let you remain ignorant of. He could be dangerous.”

I looked up from my lap full of wool. “Who?”

“I was planning on studying him further, but you do not take your pack to any of the social events. Perhaps that is your way.”

“Not my way. It’s the way of Ember Island, and with Lord Baylin—” I stopped talking before I could say too much.

“I see.” Cuan grimaced. “I am the son of the current chief, and when we held the Chief’s Moot to see who would become the next chief, the politicking reached intolerable levels.”

“Stefan and I are trying to navigate the waters of politics. It is the way of Ember Island that the Crown Prince be the only alpha of the pack.”

Cuan arched his eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into his blond hairline. “If my nose serves me correctly, there is another alpha in your pack.”

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