Page 55 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
I hate you, you will ruin me. I hate you! I must!
“You don’t hate me, and I won’t ruin you. I only want to heal the world.”
“Heal the world?” Therat choked out, guilt rising. “What good can ever come from these hands stained with sins I cannot control?”
Mireithren did not respond. She reached a thin arm out. It grazed the white scar over Therat’s heart as she murmured something under her breath. A strange sensation, like cool liquid pouring into his body, overcame Therat. The Shadow-weavehummed back to life, filling him inside until Therat could not tell where he ended and it began. The voices did not come back quite so loud—a dull clamor, rather than the choir always belting out in his mind.
“What did you do?” Therat whispered.
“We need each other, Therat. I don’t want to kill you, I want to free you. Free us. I am not your enemy, I swear.”
“Not my enemy, but wakes me up with a dagger to my throat. Not my enemy, but steals my shadows. I’d be a fool to trust you.” Even as he spoke, Therat wanted to believe her words.
Mireithren stared deep into his eyes, a strange fire lighting up her gaze. “I’m not your enemy, but I am no fool. A truce, for one day, to show you I carry no ill intentions.”
“One day. And then what?”
Mireithren sheathed the dagger against her upper thigh; the glimpse of her bare skin sent a lurch through Therat’s stomach.
“That entirely depends. Much can happen in twenty-four hours.”
“Like you killing me.”
“You did offer to fuck me. Perhaps we can start with that,” she said with a coy smile.
Therat stumbled backward at her words. His heart raced as a fire spread through his loins and images of her naked body flashed before his eyes. He wondered what his name, moaned from her lips, would sound like. Would his little siren sing for him as he caressed her scarred face?
“Get out of my head!” he thundered, lunging toward Mireithren.
She disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. Her sparkling laugh filled the small cave until it crushed Therat. He fell to his knees, unable to think straight. He was about to boil over, too many emotions struggling to be understood all at once.
“Whatever you desire is your own to claim, Therat. One day, give me that much. Please. I could kill you right now, but I won’t. Isn’t that proof enough for you?”
Mireithren stood behind him now. She bent over and whispered in his ear.
“Evil is created by men, not born in our hearts. I know of a place where those like us are loved. You deserve love, Therat. Won’t you fight for it?”
The weight of the past four years lay as a boulder over his heart, crushing him until the only escape was to let the pain engulf him. The sob building in Therat’s chest broke free, heaving with the effort as hot tears ran down his face. A soft hand reached up, fingers digging through his wild and unkempt beard. Mireithren turned his head and wiped the tears away.
“I know what it is like to be alone, more than anyone in the world.” Her voice pulled him back from oblivion. “There is blood on my hands too, but we are not unworthy of love and good deeds. The world has hurt us. Is it any wonder we’ve hurt in return?”
Mireithren pulled Therat’s head into her chest. The two sat huddled against the shallow cave wall, watching the sun rise over the dead and twisted land. Her touch reminded him of his mother’s warm embrace, soothing his heart, sending the dark whispers to sleep. For the first time in his life, Therat did not try to fight back or find some way to reject the company of another.
Twenty-four hours. With the next sunrise, he would either find himself enslaved or dead. But right now, the siren’s honeyed words sounded so sweet, and Therat was too weak to keep resisting her call.
Mireithren roused Therat fromhis stupor after the sun disappeared above the cave mouth. He was silent, too numb to do anything but walk after the release of surging emotions built up from decades of self-loathing. Mireithren’s gravelly voice played on repeat in his head all morning. Therat wanted to believe her words, believe she did mean to save him, not enslave him—or worse. That she could love him, desire him, see something in him worth fighting for.
But he could not forget the Greenweaver he killed in the Market the night Mireithren first invaded his mind. Or the way she drove him to obsession until he would rather die than face reality. She would end him, surely.
So why did he want to go with her?
“Come, we must find food. Unless you have some hidden I cannot find.” Mireithren’s voice shook Therat from his thoughts.
“No, none. I hunt at night.” The raven-haired woman raised an eyebrow in question. “You know of formweaving, I assume?”
“Ah,” she said with a nod.
“How did you even survive out here? I see no food or wa—” The appearance of a portal, the surface rippling like water over a mirror, cut off Therat’s question. It shimmered until a warm amber glow lit up the arched frame.Fuck. “I knew I saw you the other day. How long have you been watching me?” A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of Mireithren seeing what his uncontrollable rage did to the slave woman.
