by Miles Owens
Hardly believing this was happening—had happened—she reached over and played her fingers through his hair. At her feather touch, his breathing changed a bit, then resumed slow and steady.
His scar had felt just like she had thought it might. He had not minded her touching it. Or his lips. Or his chest. Or anywhere.
She had not minded his touch either. Not at all . . .
Rhiannon chuckled silently. Yes, Father, your daughter is indeed a full-grown woman. Married. Princess. Future queen.
She looked at Larien again and was overwhelmed at the love she felt for this virtual stranger. She had given her prophecy to the Eternal, and he had given it back in a manner and a purpose far beyond galloping through the land and slaying winged horrors. I no longer do sword drills, my queen. No indeed. Her future encompassed different battles fought with different weapons. And who would have thought part of it would be so . . . nice.
She heard faint murmuring of servants moving on the other side of the partition.
A new day was beginning. A new life. After a farewell time with her family, she would ride in the queen’s carriage as the royal party journeyed back to Ancylar and Faber Castle. That should be an interesting time, days of travel one on one with Cullia.
Lakenna and Branor were coming as advisors to the new princess. Rhiannon knew she would need them.
And although Harred wasn’t coming, she sensed that he and his swift sword would be available should she need them. Harred is a finely honed weapon, proven and available for the future, that inner voice had told her. She didn’t understand it yet, but she felt strongly she and Harred were somehow joined in the task of upholding the Covenant.
She thought about Lady Ouveau. How far had the Mighty Ones penetrated Faber Castle? What positions of power and influence were controlled by demonic threads? How many clan nobility secretly served the old gods? When would Zoe show up again? Rhiannon had thought the battle might be over when the North had retreated into the mist. Now she knew it was just beginning.
There was much to do. But she put those worries away until later.
She took a long, luxurious stretch under the wool blanket and then leaned over and began kissing Larien’s scar.
Wasn’t her first task to prove he hadn’t made a mistake?