Page 216 of Embers in the Snow

FINLEY

The promise of dawn blossoms into golden sunrise, bathing my face in warm light.

Birds chirp and twitter, finding shelter in the branches of my tree.

A small rainshower passes through, a fine mist of raindrops creating an ephemeral rainbow as they fall through a column of sunlight.

The rain hits my face.

I don’t mind.

The coolness is refreshing, although I hope this rain doesn’t get heavier, because I wouldn’t want to be drenched. I wish the damn tree would make me a little umbrella out of leaves or something.

Just as I think of it, the branches move and green leaves sprout, forming a thick canopy over me that blocks out the rain.

Huh.

Is that how this works? I just think of something, and the tree does my bidding?

Let me go,I command.

The branches let go.

I fall.

No, not like that!

I panic. The tree catches me, branches and vines swirling around my body; around my arms and legs.

My power overflows; wild and erratic. My heart pounds like a drum. That wasclose.I almost fell from a dizzying height.

I would have broken a dozen bones, for certain.

The rainshower abates. The morning sun bursts forth, warm and blinding. So much so that I have to close my eyes to avoid being blinded.

A gust of wind swirls around me, drying my wet face.

And when I open my eyes again, the subject of my dreams is there, casually sitting on a horizontally curving branch, head cocked, pale lips curved in a lopsided smile.

His ruby-hued gaze is as tender as I’ve ever seen it. “I didn’t expect to find you caught up in such a predicament, but then again, stranger things have happened.”

In the dappled sunlight, he’s achingly gorgeous.

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest.

“What took you so long?” I grumble, feigning annoyance.

“There were a few things I had to sort out,” he says lightly. “But it’s all done now.”

Come to think of it, he looks a little haggard. His armor is cut and torn in places, and there are shadows around his eyes.

“Did you get caught in a storm?”

“Something like that.”

He’s been drenched by the rain. His snowy hair is slicked back. Droplets of water glisten on his ragged armor.

The wind ruffles the leaves, sending a flurry of light and shadow across his aristocratic features.

---