A Ballad of the Sun and the Moon

Chapter 11

It had been two weeks and three days since she had arrived in this prison her captors called Darkfrith. And it had been two weeks and five days since she last took form as dragon. The shining beast licked at her as if to ask why it was to be punished.

After telling her father of her own Gifts they'd made a plan for her escape. It was simple in theory: at day break of the longest day of the year she would Turn and fly never to look back. They'd had to make a few assumptions though.

One: Sunniva could render herself invisible to most beings if in dragon form given sufficient sunlight. It might have been a stretch to assume it held for the drákon, but it was a risk they had to take.

Two: Sunniva was practically a beacon at night and like moths to a flame, the drákon would be drawn to her. They assumed her aura would be stronger as dragon, which meant no matter where she was she could not Turn at night.

Their hope was she could get as far away as possible on wings till the sun set and then continue on two feet. Perhaps at such a distance and despite the revealing darkness even the The Dreaded Night couldn't sense her direction.

But the most important part of their plan was before that day Sunniva could not show her true colors and above all could not Turn. Otherwise the council – which had tentatively become her only shield – would insist on a hasty marriage to the Alpha of the tribe.

Ah, the Alpha. Kimber Ellery Darce Langford - technically next-in-line for Alpha - had hardly left her alone, so thoroughly convinced she was meant for him. Sunniva hadn't seen him since she and her father had been dragged before the council, but his reach was ever long.

Every day he'd sent her a gift. One day it was a dresser with curled feet and golden handles, another it was a feinting couch with pale blue velvet cushions. Sets of fine china, silverware, imported curtains made of the finest weaves, the deliveries seemed to have no end. He'd even sent her the dresses commissioned from Zoe Lane.

Sunniva couldn't understand it. She'd seen human men buy their way into women's hearts, which she considered a ridiculous weakness, and wondered if it worked on the women of the tribe. What did a dragon want with domestic fineries anyways? The gifts didn't stop though and she'd resorted to stacking the things outside behind the cottage.

Enough is enough, she thought, pulling a sheet of parchment from a desk and scratching out a message in blue-black ink. She needn't look far for someone to deliver it. The constant harrowing of drákon slithered around the cottage, meandering about the forest, always keeping her surveiled. It was a retinue of guards that kept watch over her. They no longer feigned subtlety, often lurking just before the trees, their eyes intent as if expecting her to disappear should they lose sight of their ward.

She knew they were there all the same during the night, though she never ventured out fearing a moment without light.

Sunniva marched over to one and handed him the folded letter commanding him - as if he were her own personal servant - to deliver the message.

Kimber smiled upon its arrival, lifting the parchment to his nose reminding himself of her scent. It washed over him in a vortex of pleasure.

He'd admitted to himself that he'd been a fool. The sting of rejection was something he'd never experienced and knew his behavior had been in poor taste. Horrible even. He thought better than to be the first to reestablish direct contact, giving her the chance to cool down. She was ready to talk now, desiring to receive him.


Noble Lord,

Please drop by for a spot of tea tomorrow at three. Bring something strong to drink as well. I enjoy a spark to my herbal water.

- Sunniva


It wasn't cordial, but neither was it hostile. He'd do as she asked and at two minutes till three the following afternoon, he stood on her doorstep a bottle of spirits in the crook of his left arm knocked on her door.

She made him wait, neither calling out an apology nor bidding him patience. He could hear the quiet tapping of men's boots on oak flooring wielded by a pair of feminine legs. She still had his brothers footwear on. As she opened the door he saw she had his brother's clothes on as well.

He wouldn't grant her a frown, fearing that was precisely what she was aiming for. She hadn't washed the clothes either, the stench of his brother still lingering, merging with her own. It struck Kimber with a spark of jealousy, the belief that his scent was what should cling to her body. Still, he forced a smile and offered the bottle.

"As ordered," he said.

She took his offering with dimpled cheeks, revealing neither malice nor satisfaction.

"I'm glad to know you can take instruction," she said almost kindly, turning away. "Won't you come in?"

"I'd very much enjoy that."

He smoothed back a stray, black strand of hair and ducked low to clear the beam over the threshold as he followed Sunniva to the kitchen.

She motioned to a pulled out an uncushioned chair positioned in front of a crude oak table.

"I'm glad you wrote. We've much to talk about," he began, his eyes focused on her.

Sunniva raised her eyebrows incredulous. "Do we?"

"After the way we left things I thought we should-"

"Give me a moment will you. I'll just get the tea ready."

She strode out of the kitchen.

Kimber's stomach churned wildly. It shouldn't have. He had everything under control. He just needed to be soft with her, give her time to adjust, show her a more tender side of himself. It was only a matter of waiting really. He knew she was drawn to him. The laws of their species did not exempt her merely because she'd grown up apart. That fact gave him confidence. The strand of hair had come lose again, but he let it hang, more interested in listening to her movement, enjoying being close to her again.

His eyes settled on a worn cabinet with paint curling off the side. There were a few tin plates visible on the shelves behind cracked glass and the hinges of the doors were rusted. She'd not have to suffer this place much longer.

"Noble lord?"

Niva still hadn't quit calling him that, though he couldn't tell by her tone if she was mocking or genuine. For his ego's sake he chose to believe the latter.

"Yes, love?" he answered full of ego.

"Could you come help me with something? I'm afraid it's beyond my strength as a little shire maiden."

There was that sarcastic glint he'd hoped to be spared. He realized he was in the kitchen where an old oven sat cold against the Northern wall and lacked a tea kettle. He realized too that he had not seen anything he had sent her in the poor man's cottage. Like glass, the illusion he'd built of her shattered.

Kimber followed her voice through the cottage out to the back porch beyond which a large pile of fancy furniture lay. She stood there holding a stick wrapped in linen already a flame. It was after she sent it flying that he registered the strong notes of alcohol and saw the empty bottle he'd brought lying at her feet. She gave it a hard kick sending it cracking into the roaring fire.

The pile of gifts flared about in hues of orange, and purple, and green, lapping up the drink. Kimber even saw the fine fabrics of dresses curl and melt before finally succumbing to the hungry flames.

"I do like fire," she said with glee. "It burns away pretension and is so cleansing for the soul."

She eyed him carefully hoping to see anger, or pain, or even dismay. Anything to suggest the slightest hint of defeat.

If Kimber was affected, he certainly didn't show it. He held his jaw relaxed yet flush to his upper teeth and his eyes remained perpetually ovular. He rolled his mouth upwards into a heart-felt smile.

"And its light certainly dances wonders across your face."

The creased ridges of her smug grin took a downward slant.

"Get out of here," she demanded.

"Niva..."

"I said get out!"

****

Not convinced he had received the message, it came as no surprise to her when a loud knock fell upon her door the very next day.

"What now," snapped Sunniva, as she opened the door.

There stood a regal woman, dressed in blue silk and frothy lace, potently dripping small gems from every appendage. She held a small, wooden box in both ring-covered hands and gave Sunniva a sneering look moving her eyes up and down the woman who was to be the Alpha's bride.

"A gift from the Earl," she said proffering the box.

Sunniva could already hear the gentle hum from within. Sapphires, she thought, lain in silver. "I don't want it," replied Sunniva.

"Suit yourself. It's already been paid for anyhow." The woman placed the box at Sunniva's feet and left in a bustle of frilly skirts.

The next day the woman returned with a similarly sized box. From it Sunniva could hear a mellow twang, less subtle than the sapphire necklace she'd received yesterday, but just as potent. It was an emerald ring this time, set in rose gold.

Six days and six exquisite pieces of jewelry later, Sunniva decided it was time to put an end to it. She sat down at the dining table, quill in hand and wrote six copies of a letter. She felt a bit cruel every time she dipped the tip into the walnut ink and penned another message. That is, until she wrote the seventh letter intended for the Earl. Her smirk elongated as she smeared the ink across the vellum.

****

Kimber wasn't sure what to expect. He certainly wasn't as hopeful anymore despite the sweet words of the message. He stood where the message instructed, by the public fountain in the city square. It was exactly where he had found her that very first day she had arrived and saw their people for the first time.

Kimber remembered how fascinating she had appeared, bathing in the sights and sounds and energy of drákon. He remembered how she looked at him, no notion of his betrayal, so sweet and yearning. He wished for that look again.

Streams flushed out of six spigots jutting out of a stone column in the center of the fountain churning the water into a gentle froth. The sculpture of a siren kept watch from atop, copper skin oxidized to a lovely patina and bare breasts brandished. Kimber looked up into her hazy green eyes swearing that the figure was passing judgment upon him.

A flash of blue light caught his attention, the unmistakable refraction of sunlight through sapphires. His heart skipped like a sharp staccato as he turned to see her.

Only, it wasn't Niva.

Long red hair piled high atop a head held high and wearing a dress cut low for the necklace, Lydia waltzed towards him unable to contain a smile.

"I thought it was you. Who else would think to give me sapphires? You know how I adore them," she said, with an outstretched hand expecting Kimber's lips upon them.

Oh no.

Kimber whipped around searching for the bearer of the rose-gold ring with a large emerald. He heard its mellow twang first, accompanied by fair skin and corn-flower blue eyes. Gheillis sauntered towards him with a seductive sway of the hips. She eyed Lydia jealously, a look that was perfectly mirrored by the red-head wearing Niva's sapphires.

One by one, four other women joined the fray, adorned in topaz, rubies, garnets, and amethysts.

"Is the this some sort of jest?" asked Elizabeth.

"How irrevocabley cruel," declared Eleanor.

"In all my years-"

"Why would you-"

"Despicable!"

Kimber thought he heard a distant laugh beyond the crowds surrounding him and the six women.

"Ladies I am terribly sorry. It's all been a misunderstanding," was all Kimber offered.

He scooted out of their way, ignoring their scoffs and followed that feint lingering of wicked humor. It took him out of the village, past the old pear orchard, and through a wide patch of daisies where her feet had trampled a trail.

Sunniva kept her back to him as he approached.

"You won't deter me. Don't think I'm giving up," he called after her.

She stopped and turned to him. "What exactly is it about me that howls 'try harder'?"

Her eyes had gone to violent slits.

"The scent of arousal every time I'm near you," he said, as plainly as if stating it might rain because there were dark clouds in the sky.

Her lids scrunched and her jaw dropped as a little vein in her forehead rose above the taut skin.

"You're delirious," she snapped. She might have been less angry if it weren't true. Despite despising the man, her body still craved his touch.

"No, actually. I'm a realist," replied Kimber. "I know our people well enough to be aware that our union is an inevitability."

"I am not your people," she insisted.

"Oh but you are. Like it or not you are drákon. You live by the same natural laws that we do. Come from the same blood. And I'm sure that you sprout fangs and talons when the need becomes overwhelming."

She stomped towards him hackles - if she had them – raised, angered by the reminder that she was forced to remain as human.

"You don't know anything about me. You like to wear the stones of the Earth whereas I merely enjoy their song from a distance. You like to contain yourselves to a tiny tinder box, whereas I have traveled to many places, my territory vast! You're the Dreaded Night whereas..."
I am the Terrible Day.

"...I cannot Turn." She tried to sound as earnest as possible.

Kimber wasn't swayed and moved closer to her. Niva lingered for a moment captivated by his splendid scent. She thought of his mention of her arousal only to find her nipples had grown taut. She backed away wondering what else he could fathom from her.

"I want this to be your home."

He said it so sweetly, so tempting it hurt to increase the distance from him.

"But it isn't. Do you even realize what you did? Do you even comprehend the crime you committed against me?"

He couldn't understand her. He'd tried his best to make amends even asking his sisters for advice which both resulted in disaster. Why wouldn't she be pleased to have a home now? She'd never have to steal for food again, or be worried where she had to sleep next. He could give her every luxury she could possibly wish for. And she was among her own kind now, no need to feel lonely, no need to fly alone. She could even start a family with him, their strength combining to affect the future generations of their kind.

"By our own laws I did what was required of me. No crime was committed."

As the words escaped his lips, he realized how recklessness it was, spouting tribal law as if it meant anything to her.

She squeezed her lips together in a hateful line.

"And that is why I will never, ever be with you. Accept it. You're stupid, conceited, pompous, a self-serving brute. You are a horrible man Kimber Langford and I hate you."

"You don't really mean that," he said behind the safety of a side glance.

"With all my heart. Wouldn't that make a nice wedding vow? Now leave me alone."

She left the Earl standing knee deep in the happy white flowers, his jaw slack and mood anything but happy. She didn't care. She'd meant to hurt him, meant to get revenge any way she could. She knew he was the type of man who wasn't accustomed to being denied so when her words scorched away that look of haughty certainty from his face she became filled with gratification.

****

Sunniva began to settle into a new peace. The Earl hadn't pestered her in over two weeks, a fact for which she was glad. She'd also begun to navigate life a bit better in human form, despite her skin feeling on occasion somewhat tight.

Twice a week she would go into the village and buy bread, cheese and various necessities. She wasn't accustomed to the mundanity which came with not Turning and felt pity for the women of the tribe - the Alpha's withstanding.

Cooked and prepared food had become somewhat more palatable. Now that her father had a second person in his household, especially a female of child-bearing age, he was given a greater salary as was custom which extended their meal options. They didn't use it though on fineries that many of the other families spent their coin on. Neither had a thirst for tea, nor a desire for sweet pastries and chocolate. Instead once a week, when the trader - a drákon male permitted to leave the shire and acquire meat from the neighboring counties - passed through, they bought a large cut of venison, beef, or wild hog.

Her father even charred the meat extensively before adding the vegetables to his signature Sunday roast. He didn't like it so blackened, but every time he watched his daughter gorge on the meal he proudly smiled reminded of why she liked it prepared thusly.

In an effort not to be a great burden to her father, Sunniva took it upon herslef to pick up a new skill as often as possible. She had first taken over the shopping - that was simple enough - making certain that they had enough edibles. It was a simple matter of walking to the village and paying money for the same items every week.

Then, she did her best sweeping dirt from the cottage using a broom with bristles of fine twigs. It frustrated her immensely, feeling the contraption to be absolutely worthless. Later her father informed her that it was meant for leaves and he'd another with straw bristles for the cottage.

The next task she would master was washing the clothes she had stolen from Chasen Manor. She thought to combine it with a bath since it had been weeks since her last, and she and Rhy's livery had become a bit putrid. There was a stream not too far running through the woods where she could wash. She had a bar of soap, she had her clothes, and she had her dirty self; everything that a bather might require.

Sunniva walked a good twenty minutes before reaching the disappointing stream, reduced to a mere trickle over a few round stones and a muddy bottom in the summer heat. It was hot and sticky and her clothes clung to her sweaty skin. She peeled off the shirt first, slapping it hard and angry against the creek bed. The soap followed bouncing off a rock and landing in a slightly deeper puddle with a resounding platsch.

It was so tempting to Turn. Not to dragon, but that phase in between. The drákon here Turned to smoke before taking form. Sunniva was unique in that she Turned to flame. Both forms however, shed anything on them, grime, dust, powder, make-up. It was the simplest way for a drákon to cleanse themselves.

If she hadn't felt her guards close by she might have tempted it. In the past she Turned often and stole new clothes - usually freshly washed and drying on a clothesline - when she had need of them.

She bent down, her knees resting in a pool of water barely an inch deep, gathered the soap and shirt and did her best to scrub. It was severly tedious and hardly fruitful. The shirt seemed to collect mud and much faster than she could spread the soap. A large horsefly landed on her neck exacting a stinging bite. When Sunniva slapped it she felt the insect crush against her neck leaving its innards smeared on her skin. She scooped up a small bit of water to bring to the red welt, unsuccessfully avoiding the lowest layer of sludge of the creek bed. Moisture welled in her eyes as she opened her fingers letting the smelly scum slip through. Defeated yet alone, a few tears had the gall to slip down her face.

****

Kimber had pondered Sunniva endlessly since their last encounter. In fact, he'd pondered her ever since they met. He simply couldn't unravel her. At a loss he finally went to the one who he should have asked in the first place.

"Let's assume she can Turn," his mother had said.

"She can," he had stated plainly.

"How would you have lived your life if you had had that freedom?"

"I would have sought out my people."

His mother had sighed at that. "Oh Kimber. She isn't a runner. She isn't a scared little girl not wishing to force a man to marry her despite the lack of love, like I was. She is a grown woman who has always been free, who has always made her own rules. And now a strange man has chained her, ordered her to be his wife, bear his children and accept a society which is utterly foreign."

Kimber took a walk after that feeling worse than before he had sought his mother's council as the ignorance truly had been bliss. A twisted, incomplete bliss.

Her words repeated, pulling him into a deep contemplation until Kimber found himself at the forests edge. He pulled off his waist coat, the heat almost unbearable and hoped the shade-offering trees might grant him respite.

As a child he'd visited the Darkfrith forest on a near daily basis. He'd hid beneath the green bracken ferns and gripped the rough bark of wide trunks with small hands stalking his brother and sisters in youthful play. It had been years since he had just enjoyed being on the earth under the cover of protective leaves, memories of a time when he had no burdens or expectations. That all had ended once he could Turn to dragon and the path of Alpha laid before him.

Kimber walked and walked, not taking a particular trail nor any specific direction wishing to clear his mind. The trickle of the stream reached his ears, not so far off in the distance. He wondered how shallow it would be, considering the lack of rain the past month.

He found his thoughts occupied by the same subject he was trying to let go.

Her. Always of her.

And that of course, after rounding a large oak, was when he saw her, crouched down in the remnants of the stream her unclad torso and breasts soaking up the sunlight and her head slumped down.

It startled her, she hadn't thought someone could have gotten so close without her being aware. She'd felt her guards moseying within a certain radius and didn't care if they saw her naked. But after turning and realizing who it was, she suddenly grew modest, snatching the dripping shirt and slapping it across her breasts.

Of all the things Kimber could have encountered in the woods, of all the people it had to be his mate, perfect breasts exposed to boot. He was certain he'd never be able to think of anything else except how her pink, small nipples contrasted exquisitely with taut, darkened areolas. Had she not despised him so, he might have proudly looked, daring her to show him more. But he didn't wish to feed her hatred, so Kimber averted his eyes.

"What are you doing here? Are you following me now," she demanded to know, gripping the shirt as if Kimber might attempt to snatch it away.

He glanced back at her quickly and lowered his eyes again."I...I can still see your..."

She looked down and adjusted her arms to cover the small mounds.

Kimber offered her his coat cautiously like someone not wishing to get bitten by a dog with raised hackles.

"I don't need anything from you. Just quite your spying and leave," she snarled.

Kimber held his palms up as if in surrender.

"I didn't mean to find you here. Truly. I was merely out for a walk and well-"

"Well what?!"

"Are you trying to bathe?"

Niva attempted to remain proud, but she felt beaten. After the broken promises of clean skin and unsoiled clothes mixed with the pain in her neck her head tipped forward. She hated it here. She hated him seeing her like this. Apart from her father, Kimber was the only one she even remotely knew in this hellhole and she was supposed to hate him.

"Yes."

It slipped out pitifully before she could come up with an excuse, some reason why she didn't need him and that he should leave. She was breathing hard, working to retain the tears congregating just behind her eyes.

Kimber thought to ask why she didn't just fill a basin from the well and bathe inside the privacy of her own home. He thought to point out that her father certainly had a wash board for her to clean her soiled clothing and there was a well not too far from the cottage. He even wanted to mention that she only need ask for clothes that were more appropriate for her. She'd looked so lovely at Chasen in his sister's dresses.

Then it came to on him. She was drákon, perhaps more so than even he. She donned her human disguise only when necessary. She didn't know how to bathe because she didn't have to. She didn't know how to wash clothes because scales had always given her shelter. And she didn't ask him for anything, because she'd be damned if it pleased him.

She had told him she liked treasure. An idea sprung to mind. It might be insignificant, but he would offer it anyways.

"I know a better place," pausing to gauge her reaction. She didn't trust him, a fact that was clear by her guarded eyes shadowed by lowered lashes.

"If you'll allow it, that is. I can show you." He motioning to the trickle of water just beyond them, "Except during the spring thaw, this stream has never been all that impressive."

He offered her his coat again, eyes still averted holding his breath as she examined him. She took a step closer. Kimber held his muscles tight, forcing himself not to move, knowing that even an unexpected flinch could push her away.

To his surprise and immense pleasure, he felt the gentle tug of the fabric from his fingers as she took it.

With his back now turned to her, granting her a modicum of privacy, he heard the slop of wet linen hit the ground.

"May I turn around now?"

"No," she forbade, "just walk."

He wasn't sure if she would follow. Maybe his coat was all she would accept from him. He released a breath when he heard the footsteps fall softly at his back.

Apart from air escaping her lungs and the soft tenor of feet crunching leaves she was nearly perfectly silent. No wonder he'd always had so much trouble finding her when she disappeared. It should have made him nervous, made him clutch his talons onto her tighter, but it truly thrilled him. It didn't help that he caught her scent mingled with his own musky flavors, his coat draped over her shoulders. He wanted to touch her again, put his scent in all the places the fabric didn't reach.

Now was not the time for that, he knew. He began to speak in the hopes to curtail that black dragon unfolding its wings perpetually drawn out by her presence.

"I used to come here sometimes as a youth to escape."

She didn't reply, so he continued.

"I've no idea if others know about it. I've never seen anyone there. Hopefully it's still a secret."

Kimber searched for something to say. Anything to break the silence and possibly put her at ease. He hated small talk, something that he was forced to do when out in society. The woman at his back, haphazardly dressed in a man's coat, walking through the woods barefoot and smelling strongly of female was hardly a giggly girl at some soiree. She was brutal and direct and ever since they'd met been unwillingly tangled in a web of lies.

"The role of Alpha has been assumed for me since my birth. I've always been pushed into what was expected of me. Even as a child I was treated differently than all the other children."

"Oh you poor thing. Growing up in the lap of luxury. I'm sure getting everything you wanted must have so hard."

It was bitter, but it was something.

"I remember when I was fifteen," he continued, ignoring her jab, "I was already as tall as my father. I thought I was so great, so indomitable provoking anyone into a fight. I ridiculed those who declined, and tormented those who lost. It's every boys dream to be the strongest, the fastest, the most adored by the women, and the most feared the men. My father knew what I thought of myself, as well as the danger of it. So one night before we took to the sky he issued a challenge."

Kimber ducked under a low-hanging branch.

"He never partook in those mock fights we younger drákon thrived on, so I was more than eager to accept, thrilled with the idea of proving myself as his heir. Showing the tribe I was stronger, at fifteen, than even the Alpha. We hadn't even fought for a minute before he had me by the throat. I Turned when we hit the ground - and we hit the ground hard."

Kimber touched his temple with a grimace as if remembering. He could feel Sunniva intense at his back now closer to him than before.

"He rose, utterly unphased and proceeded to beat me, with his fists, his feet. I can still remember the feeling of his heel strike hard across my back."

The ground began a gentle slope and Kimber had to weave around the trees for a suitable path.

"Much of the tribe was there to watch his relentless onslaught. In that moment I didn't understand why. I thought perhaps he'd become crazed. Some blood fever maybe. How else could my own father who I knew loved his children more than anything do such a thing. No one lifted a hand to help me, not even my mother. When I finally found my father's eyes I didn't see a crazed man. I saw sorrow behind a mask of responsibility. After I'd nearly lost consciousness he carried me inside and placed me on my bed. I couldn't even see, both of my eyes swelling shut. I stayed in bed for near on a week, even soiling the sheets, too in pain to reach the chamber pot."

He let out a chuckle and thought he heard her stifle a laugh. He didn't look back, though, continuing with his story.

"Later on he asked me if I understood. He explained that being Alpha wasn't glory and worship. It wasn't a title granted inalienable. It was a position of responsibility. He wanted me to understand that someday I would have to hurt, maim, maybe even kill to protect our tribe. It shouldn't be something done without thought and never for enjoyment. That someday some runner might feel that very same fear I experienced."

It was a story he thought he would never tell, paired with a memory he could never forget. Kimber wanted to give her an understanding of what governed him, to perhaps know a fraction what his life had been like, to be privy to the forces that drove him. Sunniva hadn't been a pretty dalliance that had caught the eye of a spoiled nobleman. And it was unfortunate that she became subject to the laws that Kimber was beholden to uphold.

"Ever since that night I've approached my duty as seriously as possible. Forcing a blunt numbness over myself as I navigate my role. I care about our people more than myself, but I rarely take pleasure in the many things I must do in my position."

Kimber stopped and against better judgment risked turning around to face her. Her right cheek was smeared with mud and she clutched his coat closed over her breasts. Her face was curious, as she listened to his tale.

The truth of Sunniva hit him in a sudden rush, the essence of her being so very different from his own. His mother's words suddenly made simple transparent sense: a dragon, born free. An abrupt feeling of being shackled made his limbs heavy and looking down upon this beautiful woman full of contradictions lacking pretense or convention, he felt a stab of envy.

A certain realization came over Kimber in that moment. With her it was the first time that he wanted something for reasons besides what was best for the tribe. It was selfish and reckless and he didn't care.

"And is that how you see me? A cold, calculated piece to fit with your position and duty?" she asked.

She may have been once, for a singular instanve when he became certain she could Turn. He almost wished that's how he still saw her. It would make everything much less painful, make him feel less desperate. Every leer she gave him, every rejection he received singed his heart. She twisted and turned constantly in his thoughts, a mingling of cold smoke and scorching fire blurring the lines between an instinctual drive, devotion to duty, and furious passion. He opened his mouth to tell her, but self preservation got the better of him. If she truly did hate him, he couldn't bare her use of this knowledge as a weapon.

"Enjoy the spring," he said politely. "I'll see to it that no one bothers you while you're here," he answered guarded.

Sunniva tore her eyes away seeing a large, clear pool of water, fed by a gush emerging from an overhang above. She'd been so consumed by Kimber's words she hadn't even heard the plunge of the falls into the pool's depths. When she looked back Kimber was already out of sight.

To her surprise Sunniva wasn't pleased. She almost followed him to demand an answer. She wasn't even sure why it mattered. She'd be leaving him eventually either way.

She stood there unmoving for some time expecting him to return. She even extended her senses wondering what trick it might be. No longer was that signature trace of drákon lingering nearby. The guards must have been ordered off, the Earl having made good on his promise. She let Kimber's coat fall from her shoulders almost regrettably.

She spent the rest of the day there in solitude, for once enjoying something in her prison of Darkfrith.