Authors: Sevastian
“You felt Her, didn’t you, just now?”
Mutely, Tris nodded, looking still at the lifeless window. “I thought I saw Chenne,” he whispered, the words sounding fantastic even to him. “But there’s nothing there now.”
“You did,” Kiara said with conviction, resting against him and giving him a reassuring embrace.
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“I didn’t hear anything, but I felt… something. I know that feeling,” she said self‐consciously. “It was the same thing I’ve felt before, when She was near.” She paused. “What did She say?”
“Not to doubt,” Tris repeated wonderingly. “That She would ride with me.”
“So will I,” Kiara said resolutely. “You know that, don’t you? I’m coming with you to Margolan.”
Tris met her eyes, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. Elation, that by some miracle she might return his feelings. Joy, that she would share his quest. Fear, at the risk to her that their journey would entail. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I could stand that.”
She smiled. “I didn’t think you were going to try to coddle me,” she reproved gently. “Don’t disappoint me. I fight as well as you do—or better, you’ve said it yourself. And I’ll never be able to turn my back until Arontala is dead. I’ll never be free, and neither will Isencroft,” she said firmly. “It’s as much my quest as yours, now.”
Smiling, she lifted a finger and laid it across his lips. “It doesn’t need a vote,” she said gently. “It’s decided.”
He kissed her again, longer and deeper this time, until finally it was she who pulled away. The light of morning filled the sacred space around them, reminding him of just how much time had passed. “I imagine Carina will send a search party after me if I don’t go back soon,” she said with a smile.
Tris grinned. “Maybe. Then again, Jonmarc looked determined to keep her out late.”
Kiara chuckled. “In a wicked sort of way, I kind of enjoy seeing Carina look so unnerved around 506
Jonmarc. She’s usually so damnably in control. He’s the first one she hasn’t scared off.”
“I don’t think he scares easily,” Tris replied, linking his hand with hers as they walked from the temple. He glanced back over his shoulder, but the image of the Lady remained mere glass.
“You’re not going to find an answer that makes sense, Tris,” Kiara said, guessing his thoughts.
“Stop trying.”
He smiled and sighed as they headed down the corridor. “I imagine not,” he admitted. “Funny how, not too long ago, I didn’t think there were any mysteries at all. And now…”
“Now you’re one of the ‘hounds of the Goddess,’” she finished.
He looked at her quizzically. “What?”
She shrugged. “I read that somewhere, in a book about a sorceress from long ago. She called herself the ‘hound of the Goddess’ because she came when the Lady called and did as the Lady told.”
“Hound of the Goddess, huh?” Tris mused. He thought about the road ahead of him, the odds against them, and his friends’ willingness to stake their lives on his magic. A good pack of hounds could bring down a formidable enemy, like a stag or a bear. Tomorrow, they would meet with Staden to talk of war, and the prince who never wanted to be king would recruit an army to avenge his family and take back his kingdom. Tomorrow.
But for tonight, he thought, holding tight to Kiara’s hand, he had already won more than he ever 507
dreamed possible. It was all he needed, for now. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gail Z. Martin discovered her passion for science fiction, fantasy and ghost stories in elementary school. The first story she wrote—at age five—was about a vampire. Her favorite TV show as a preschooler was Dark Shadows. At age 14, she decided to become a writer. She enjoys attending science fiction/fantasy conventions, Renaissance fairs and living history sites. She is married and has three children, a Himalayan cat and a golden retriever.
You can visit Gail at:
www.myspace.com/chronicleofthenecromancer
www.chroniclesofthenecromancer.com
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Read her blog: blog.myspace.com/chronicleofthenecromancer
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