Page 33 of Cursed Shadows 1

It’s so tender and comforting that I don’t so much as feel the need to explain why I want to wait longer. I’m no virgin, and I’m sure he senses that about me, but I’ve never been with a dark male before. I’m certain it’ll be different to what I know.

Maybe I’m a little scared. A lot scared.

I need to learn him more first.

Daxeel lets me.

time

††††††

Time is different between our lands. Since they don’t have the sun or the moon in Dorcha, they don’t have days and nights like we do in Licht.

I learn fast that time in the darkness comes in four waves that make up one phase:

The Warmth (when we wake)

The Breeze (when it is humid)

The First Wind (when it cools)

The Quiet (when we rest)

I spend my firstphase(the dark equivalent to a day and night) resting away the fatigue. I sick up some dinner when the nausea takes hold.

The second phase comes and I start to feel better. That’s when I leave the room.

I find the scripture hall. It’s small, and the scribes aren’t too welcoming to me. I join the dancers, and practice with them for the opening ceremony. There are some dokkalves among the dancers. That’s new for me.

But in the first three phases here at Comlar, I don’t see him. Not once.

Then the fourth phase comes… and it’s time for the ceremonial dance.

I see him then.

And just like that first night, he sees me.

8

††††††

I barely recognize the courtyard this phase.

No torchlight fights off the darkness this Breeze, but instead glowworms and fireflies are stuck to the strings that zigzag overhead. It casts a stunning glitter of ivory light down on us, and I almost think it’s romantic, like the pearlescent petals that are dusted all over the stone ground, or the small white plum trees planted in ceramic vases that line the walls.

If this courtyard was empty, it could have been a spot for a wedding. But at the start of the Breeze today, it’s no wedding to be celebrated here. It’s the welcome ceremony, the official start to this century’s Sacrament.

The celebrations start in the Breeze, but it will rage on until the next Warmth, I imagine. I wonder, fleetingly, as I look around at the throngs of warriors and contenders flooding the courtyard, who will outdrink who? Will light or dark prevail this phase? Will they fight too soon and shed blood all over the pretty petals?

With so many of them, at least a few hundred, I wouldn’t be surprised if the fights broke out before the ceremony begins.

Maybe I’m a little on edge. Maybe—even if I was so close to a dark one, loved him—I’m still unnerved by them. Dark fae allaround me. More than I’ve ever seen in my twenty-nine years of life.

If it wasn’t for the grandstands constructed above the courtyard, from each of the four walls, where the spectators make their way, then I doubt everyone would fit in this colossal courtyard. Mostly, it’s the contenders, the nobles, the scribes, and the entertainers that stay down here. Everyone else is already up on the blackwood grandstands or making their way up there.

All except Eamon.

Tucked away near a particularly leafy plum tree, I lean into his side and feel the familiar weight of his arm coming around to rest over my shoulders. But like mine, his eyes are lively, and cut across the courtyard.

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