Page 27 of Realms of Shadow and Sun

“The feeling that we're being watched? Yes, but I've seen no one or any activity.” Grayden didn't mention the little girl he thought he saw. It seemed so improbable that anyone would be left in this abandoned kingdom. It was rumored to have fallen many, many years before. He wasn't even sure how Renya's ancestry was possible. He assumed that a tiny faction might have escaped and survived, hidden in another kingdom under false heritage.

A chilling thought suddenly entered his mind. What if it wasn't true? What if the Sun Realm hadn't fallen, and it had been inhabited when Renya's parents lived? If so, where was everyone now? The questions swirled in his mind, adding to his unease.

Phillippe gripped the hilt of his sword as they walked through the city, prepared in case the slightest noise or rustle came. Grayden followed up from behind, putting Selenia in the middle, his senses on high alert.

They moved throughout the city quickly, but every once in a while they stopped to observe a shop or building. Selenia gasped as she saw a clothier shop, brocades, silks and satins filling up the window in front. She looked longingly at the door and then down at her stained dress, still partially damp despite the heat.

Even Phillippe stopped as they passed a swordsmith's shop, with all kinds of swords and knives displayed proudly in the window. An intricate and ornate chess set caught Grayden's attention as they passed by a silversmith's workshop.

The marble streets twisted and turned, like a maze around the palace. It appeared to be built in the center of the town on a gentle hill. Every time they thought they were getting closer, the path they chose would take them in a different direction.

“We should have left a trail of breadcrumbs,” Selenia mumbled, stopping to adjust the pack she carried. “How much farther do you think?”

“I think we're almost there,” Grayden said, noticing how the streets seemed to narrow.

They turned a corner, and suddenly found themselves in an enormous courtyard. The area reminded Grayden of the spokes of a wheel, with different paths leading out in all directions into the city. The courtyard was round, with a large circular path connecting all the others together.

The palace was huge. Turrets jutted out from every corner, towering above. It was made of the same limestone material like the walls protecting the city, but even more carvings adorned every surface. There was gold everywhere Grayden looked, and he once again marveled that the city and its structures hadn't been looted.

“It looks undisturbed and perfect,” Selenia commented, her voice filled with awe.

“Not quite.” Phillippe pointed to the eastern side of one tower. The entire surface of the tower was blackened, and pieces of rubble lined the ground under it. Easily half of the tower was missing, open and exposed to the elements.

“I wonder what happened there,” Selenia said, glancing above and walking carefully around the rubble.

Grayden had an unnatural feeling the longer he looked at the spot. It was as if something significant happened there, something he should know. Almost as though he was there before, it felt oddly...familiar. Perhaps he had heard it described or seen it in a book? But even as he searched for the memory, he knew that wasn't it. The feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming, and he couldn't shake it.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Phillippe moved towards the large gate. Grayden's fears about the palace being impenetrable were unfounded; the gate was wide open and they moved through it with no resistance. Easily the height of more than two men, the gate was huge and heavy. Had it been closed, Grayden wasn't sure how they would have managed it. It would have taken half a dozen men to move it even a fraction.

Beyond the gate was another small corridor, with a fountain in the middle. A golden eagle, perched on a branch, was prominently depicted, carved into the marble of the fountain. Water trickled down the branch and tree, falling into a reservoir.

More paths led to different parts of the palace, branching off in several directions.

“Which way?” Selenia asked, looking to her brothers for guidance.

Grayden didn't answer, but his feet carried him to the eastern tower. He couldn't explain why, but he needed to see what transpired there. It was as if an invisible force was pulling him towards it.

Wordlessly, Phillippe and Selenia followed him through a passageway and up a spiraling staircase. Like most of the tower, the staircase was crumbling and they watched their footing carefully the higher they got. Burgundy tapestries lined the walls of the tower, with large valkyries decorating them. In the oldest of fae languages, the motto “the sun shall never set,” was proudly displayed on them.

Ironic, Grayden thought, as they continued their way up the dilapidated tower. The closer Grayden got to the top, the harder his heart started beating and he felt his palms moisten. There was a sense of anticipation building within him, though he couldn't explain why.

He finally reached the landing, which opened up into a large suite of rooms. His boots thumped on the marble tile as he moved past the dark wood paneling and into the room on the far left. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was before him.

The circular room was painted a majestic midnight blue, with glittering images of the sun peppering the walls. A mural of a sunrise hung over a handsomely carved crib. Baby items were strewn about the room, and he saw tiny little clothes, blankets, and broken furniture. A lone baby bonnet, caked with dust, rested right next to his boot.

His heart knew what this was before his mind could catch up. He felt her here, felt the ghost of her presence in this nursery. The realization hit him like a physical blow, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs.

This was Renya's childhood room.

Chapter Fifteen

Renya sat on the floor with her back against the bed frame, sobs echoing off the walls of her chamber. She couldn't believe that her own father was alive. And not only that, he had taken away the one thing she had left: her bond with Grayden.

The moment her father performed his magic, it was like a part of her died. The knowledge that her fated mate was no longer connected to her broke her all over again.

She cried ugly, loud tears until her nose ran all down her face. She used her sleeve to dry her face, not caring about ruining the simple dress she wore. As she rolled up her sleeve, she caught a glimpse of her mating mark. The sparkling snowflake was there, as brilliant as ever. Confusion whirled around in her brain. Shouldn't her mark be gone if her bond was broken? Cressida didn't bear a mark after splitting from her father, so if her connection to Grayden was really severed, shouldn't her mark be gone too?

She traced the snowflake with her finger, and she swore she could feel Grayden, just beyond her reach. She wasn't sure if her mind was playing tricks on her, or if she could really feel him.

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