Shadow of Dusk

Midnight Visit

Liam stormed out of the citadel and threw his saddle on his horse. He spurred the animal on, his anger taking no notice of the cool night air. What he wouldn’t give for Kip right now. Part of Liam wanted to ride out of Teardor; the other part didn’t want to abandon his people to the crazy whims of his father. Liam was still Teardor’s prince. But Teardor would be no more once Maldoran ran Veredore through.

            He slowed his horse down a small creek that flowed to the Nord River. He was on the outskirts of the city, near the farmhouses and pastures. He lifted his head to the sky, breathing in the night air. He climbed off of his horse, lowering the reins, allowing the horse to nibble at the grass. He sat in silence for a long time, mulling over his thoughts and wondering how to contact Kip. Diana had left, and he didn’t know when she’d return. He supposed he’d have to wait until he escorted Cailin (he scowled) to Veredore.

            Liam heard a noise in the trees behind him and quickly turned around. He heard women’s voices. He jumped from the bank and got onto his horse, not wanting to be discovered. As soon as he was on his horse, three women came into view, each holding a golden lamp in her hand. The hair color of the one on his right burned into his eyes. He knew that color.

            “Now, herbs picked at midnight will best heal flesh wounds,” the woman in the middle was saying. “Cailin, your mother has a special way of stewing these. Do you remember—” She broke off, her eyes catching the dark figure in front of them. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Don’t skulk in the shadows where we can’t see you!”

            Liam, for all his anger, was slightly impressed and a little amused at Amine, but he did not want to scare them. He moved his horse into their lamplight and smiled faintly.

            “I’m sorry I startled you,” he said.

            Amine and Brielle both gasped and bowed lowly. His eyes lingered on Cailin, whose eyes merely widened and then she looked down quickly, sinking into a delayed and short bow.

            For some reason, that made Liam feel perturbed, and that did not help his mood. Who did she think she was, mocking his position? And then he had remembered what he had said about her (though he had not really forgotten), but wondered how in the world she had heard him. Veredians had good hearing, he knew, but from across the room? And she wasn’t even fully veredian…which meant she wasn’t even fully human, either. And it was for her and her kind that he was being mortified in front of his future council. He scowled even deeper.

            “Prince,” Amine was saying, “I did not mean to speak to you as I did.”

            Liam reconfigured his face into a regal smile at his subject, and turned his eyes on her. “Please do not worry, madam.” He waved his hand as elegantly as he thought he could.

Cailin glanced up quickly, noticing how the lamplight enhanced his profile and lit his eyes to a fiery green. She lowered her eyes when he looked at her. That man makes me lose my mind, she thought.

            She had not forgotten, nor forgiven, his stinging words the night of the feast. She couldn’t believe she even cared that much anyway, but every part of her knew she owed him something—for he had sent soldiers to her people and defied his father. She wanted that man, the good one she saw inside the beautiful physique, to respect her. Like her. And not hate her for what he had done.

            “Cailin,” he said suddenly, his rage surging through him, wanting to vent it somewhere.

            Startled, she glanced up, willing herself to look into those eyes.