Page 202 of The Eye of the Fifth
That had been all Orro had been able to hear. Winvara knew of it too, at Naal’s discretion, though none of them had ever expected her granddaughter to be the female of ‘light and land’that the prophecy spoke of. Orro knew the risks by venturing back into Zarynth under a guise to learn the rest of it. It had beenthatinformation he had sought, under Naal’s instruction, that had ultimately led to his demise.
Naal had not wept for him, for he would have scolded her for it. But she missed her friend every day. She saw him in Mankar’s grins, in his kind heart. She saw him in Nysari’s unwavering resolve. If he knew of the guilt that haunted Naal in light of his death, he would have scolded her for that too.
She let a tear roll down her cheek. Tasted salt on her lips. ‘Orro, you fool, let me weep for you,’ she whispered. Alone, she would speak. She condemned that ancient, pretentious rule anyway. ‘I miss you, friend.’
‘Naal?’
Maida’s soft voice made her open her eyes. Her Second knelt beside her. ‘Does she speak to you tonight?’
Naal gently dabbed away the tear and beheld the Goddess’ face. ‘She is as quiet as this room,’ she muttered. ‘If only my mind were the same. I might not need to hear Her voice quite so if it were.’
‘You need not hear the Mothers voice to know it is there, Naal,’ Maida reminded her. ‘Us non-Warden folk get by just fine with that knowledge.’
‘Still… I fear I am lost.’
Maida took her hand. ‘There is someone here that might make you feel less so.’
Daring to believe was folly, and yet she could not help but ask, ‘Is it them?’
‘No. Not them.’
‘Then who?’
A smile pulled on Maida’s mouth. The first Naal had seen in a long while. ‘Come see for yourself.’
With each second she pursued Maida through the temple, Naal’s pulse became increasingly aflutter. It was the smirk on Maida’s face, the slight spring in her friend’s step. Even the faeries glowed differently tonight. Naal tried to not let herself hope, but her hammering heart had an entirely different idea.
They paused outside the dinner hall. ‘Some good for a change,’ Maida said with a wink, before pushing the doors open.
By the fire on the far side of the hall, Winvara Daeiros glowed. Orange flames offset the caramel tones in her brown skin, dappling over the crushed velvet of her long dress. It draped her body, finishing just below the neck, her soft collar bones just visible above. Naal had left many kisses there, once. And though those dark eyes hardened as they fell upon her, Naal could barely swallow down the sob of relief that lodged in her throat.
Dovella leered at her from an armchair. Then another peered up from her cross-legged position in front of the fire. The youngest Daeiros had the round, sweet face of Winvara’s daughter, and it both pained and pleased Naal to see Eirinna through Aeliah’s wide, doe-like eyes.
‘I’ll give you some privacy,’ Maida said. Naal gave her a grateful nod. ‘Come, Dovella, Aeliah. Let me show you to a room.’
Aeliah jumped to her feet right away, shooting Naal a shy smile as she moved past her. Dovella’s eyes narrowed as she swept by, but the young earthling girl said nothing.
The doors closed behind them.
Every step Naal took toward her mate was deliberate. Winvara was a wild animal. Unpredictable. The slightest wrong move could be detrimental.
Only when she was by the fire, leaving a fair few paces between them, did Naal speak. ‘I feared you were dead.’
Win was statuesque. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Kyra was in Avaldale over a month ago. She saw the manor abandoned following the terrorism from Valfell. She reported her findings.’ In the coldest way too, she need not add. ‘I feared the worst.’
‘I am not dead,’ said Win blankly. A ring of reflected light simmered in her eyes. ‘Where is Kyraena?’
A knife twisted in Naal’s stomach. How could she answer this question without inciting rage? Honesty was the only option, no matter how much she wanted to run from it. ‘She went to Zarynth in search of her friend who was taken.’
Win’s nostrils flared. ‘By your order?’
‘No,’ Naal promised her. ‘She acted of her own accord.’
‘Who was the friend?’
‘The same who begged for your help when Kyra was imprisoned. Rosary Talbot.’
