Elven Legacy

Chapter 45

Moira

And then there were two.

Pearjia was a charming bustling city, with elegant architecture for buildings that often rose three or four stories tall, pale detailed stonework everywhere Moira cast her eyes, as well as ornately carved columns and fanciful balcony railings. Their inn was no exception, with its lovely outdoors terrace similar to the one in Bachezze.

The inn was called The Fellariz, which instantly made Moira think of Zemisha. Fellariz, the Goddess of Fire, was Misha's favorite.

They'd shared stories, a little while back. Zemisha had told Moira about Fellariz, and Moira had talked about her favorite – and only – Northern Goddess, Melea. It had been fascinating to discover that the two goddesses, though from different pantheons, shared similarities when you compared their origin stories. It was in their integrity, their quiet, determined ambition, their set of values, their fierceness and passion when it mattered the most.

"What are you thinking?" Jaden asked her, and she darted her attention back to the moment.

They sat facing each other at a small table, in the back corner of the terrace with the inn's brick wall next to them. And behind Jaden was the ornately curlicued railing that separated the terrace from a courtyard boasting magnolias and walnut trees.

Moira gave him a helpless shrug. "About Zemisha," she admitted.

Jaden nodded, his gray eyes drifting downward. He was almost finished with his meal. They'd ordered what everyone else on the terrace seemed to be eating; grilled shrimp, rice and cilantro sauce, with some dry white wine.

It was Moira's first time tasting cilantro, and that, too, reminded her of Misha because one time they'd been having dinner in Moira's chambers, and she'd talked about how she missed it. 'You've got to taste it someday. It's so unique and if you're like me, it'll make your taste buds dance.'

Moira did like it quite a lot.

"I hope she's all right," Jaden said, running a hand through his hair. The mild evening wind made quick work of ruffling it back down the side of his face. He gave up, took a sip of wine.

"Me too," Moira said.

Terrace conversations made for a lulling backdrop, and from inside wafted the music from a duet of harpist and singer. But they weren't very good, in Moira's opinion anyway. She could've done without the man's whiny voice.

Sunset had begun in the clear sky. If Moira looked up, she could see a gradation of blues, and if she turned she could see pinks and oranges in two lone clouds, with a halo of yellow brightness underneath.

She scratched her scalp. Made a face.

"The wig bothering you?" Jaden asked, setting down his wineglass.

Moira nodded. "It's worth it though. I was sick and tired of all the staring."

After arriving in Pearjia, they'd stopped by some shops and found a decent-looking wig of shoulder-length dark brown hair. The shop's owner had helped Moira with putting the wig on, which required a net underneath and was more of an ordeal than Moira had anticipated.

. . . Also her scalp itched about every three seconds.

"Bright, beautiful red hair," Jaden said with a smile, his fingers worrying at the wineglass's stem. "People don't see that too often around here."

"Yeah, well," Moira said, shrugging. "Like I said, worth it."

Some people stared at Jaden's hair, too, but not nearly as much. Maybe because he was a guy.