Rhylin looks askance at his commander. “Me?”
“You’re the lunatic that scaled Hindra’s Peak. Go on, then.”
“A mountain’s a bit different to a bloody tree, isn’t it?”
“You’re not cutting me down,” I cry, suddenly fearing they might do something rash. It probably isn’t a good idea to try and hack at a tree that’s crushed two undead bodies in its writhing branches. “For now, just leave me be. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. The tree isn’t out to harm me. It’s of me.”
Tarron’s bearded face is illuminated by the soft light from the inside. “I’d tell you stranger things have happened, but I’d be lying. Can we at least get you something? Must be cold up there. You need a shawl? Something to eat or drink?”
“No,” I call, raising my voice as the wind picks up. The tree has formed a protective little cove of branches around me. The wind doesn’t touch me. I can see the glittering lights of Lukiria, and the faintest blush of dawn on the horizon. “I thank you for your concern, but I’m fine, Tarron.”
“My lady.” He drops to one knee and lowers his head. “Please accept my apology.”
“Whatever for?”
“We failed to protect you. The undead should never have been able to reach you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tarron. How was anyone supposed to predict that would happen? Your men did their very best. Kharuk is…” I remember seeing him get carried away, his armor pierced through in the chest area, a small trickle of blood coming from the wound.
But he was alive. I saw his eyes, open and filled with awe.
“He’s alive,” Tarron says solemnly. “The tree—your tree—did something to him. Staunched the bleeding with little fines. He’s with the physicians as we speak. They reckon he’ll live.”
Relief surges through me. “When he’s well enough to talk, please convey my gratitude. He risked his life to protect me. I wish him a speedy recovery, and I’ll go and visit him myself… er, when I can.” I try to move my arms, but the tree simply tightens its grip on me—as if I’m a precious object that it doesn’t want to ever let go.
“I reckon he’d appreciate that. Just don’t stay up there too long, all right? I don’t want His Highness to tear me a new one because his betrothed has gotten stuck in a giant tree.”
I laugh; I can’t help it. The ridiculousness of it all is just too much. “You have nothing to worry about. Corvan won’t be mad. He’s seen worse.”
The faint blush on the horizon turns into a warm orange glow.
The sun is rising in the east.
My body is tingling all over, filled with wild, dancing energy.
I feel like I could lift the entire world.
Soon, the whole world is going to see me; an anomaly, an oddity, an baron’s daughter from Ruen—unladylike and outspoken—who fell into the arms of a vampire prince and found out she was a daughter of the Dryadae line.
And together, we grew… and became entwined.
What will they make of me—of us?
He’s coming back to me… isn’t he?
“Tarron, you may leave me now. I’m honestly fine up here. Take some well deserved rest and stop fretting.”
“I appreciate your consideration, my lady. It’s just that… His Highness gave us orders. We have to guard you and ensure your welfare at all costs. He’d be livid if anything happen—”
“Do you really think a gigantic magical tree that destroyed two undead beings in an instant would let anything bad happen to me? Nothing can hurt me now. And if Corvan takes you to task, tell him that I told you to stand down. Sometimes, my orders override his, you know.”
Tarron stares at me in disbelief. “If you insist, my lady, then there’s really nothing else we can do.”
“There’s really nothing else you need to do, Tarron. Just leave me be.”
“Very well.”
And with that, the men of the Imperial Elite Guard bow deeply and quietly depart from the inner garden.
After the chaos; the terror, I have a sudden need to be alone.
The only person I want around me right now is him.
Suspended high above the Imperial Palace, looking out across the mysterious glittering lights of the capital, I feel safe. The tree makes me feel this way.
But I’m not yet fulfilled.
Anticipation and hope swirl in my chest.
Cocooned by night, the tantalizing blush of dawn beckons.
Come home to me, Corvan.
64
FINLEY
The promise of dawn blossoms into golden sunrise, bathing my face in warm light.
Birds chirp and twitter, finding shelter in the branches of my tree.
A small rainshower passes through, a fine mist of raindrops creating an ephemeral rainbow as they fall through a column of sunlight.
The rain hits my face.
I don’t mind.
The coolness is refreshing, although I hope this rain doesn’t get heavier, because I wouldn’t want to be drenched. I wish the damn tree would make me a little umbrella out of leaves or something.
Just as I think of it, the branches move and green leaves sprout, forming a thick canopy over me that blocks out the rain.
Huh.
Is that how this works? I just think of something, and the tree does my bidding?
Let me go, I command.
The branches let go.
I fall.
No, not like that!
I panic. The tree catches me, branches and vines swirling around my body; around my arms and legs.
My power overflows; wild and erratic. My heart pounds like a drum. That was close. I almost fell from a dizzying height.
I would have broken a dozen bones, for certain.
The rainshower abates. The morning sun bursts forth, warm and blinding. So much so that I have to close my eyes to avoid being blinded.
A gust of wind swirls around me, drying my wet face.
And when I open my eyes again, the subject of my dreams is there, casually sitting on a horizontally curving branch, head cocked, pale lips curved in a lopsided smile.
His ruby-hued gaze is as tender as I’ve ever seen it. “I didn’t expect to find you caught up in such a predicament, but then again, stranger things have happened.”
In the dappled sunlight, he’s achingly gorgeous.
My heart nearly bursts out of my chest.
“What took you so long?” I grumble, feigning annoyance.
“There were a few things I had to sort out,” he says lightly. “But it’s all done now.”
Come to think of it, he looks a little haggard. His armor is cut and torn in places, and there are shadows around his eyes.
“Did you get caught in a storm?”
“Something like that.”
He’s been drenched by the rain. His snowy hair is slicked back. Droplets of water glisten on his ragged armor.
The wind ruffles the leaves, sending a flurry of light and shadow across his aristocratic features.
His skin starts to blister and peel.
Oh, he must be exhausted.
But if he’s bothered by it, he doesn’t let it show.
He just looks happy to see me.
“You’re in quite a bind, aren’t you?” His smile becomes indulgent. “Shall I help you out?”
“If you must. You actually look like you need it.”