Page 46 of Realms of Shadow and Sun
“Except for the time you, Phillippe, Grayden, and Jurel let all those cows into the village.” She felt a small pang, remembering how much they had all laughed as the cows wandered the cobblestone streets, harassing patrons and irritating vendors as they left their droppings everywhere.
“I thought your father was going to murder us. I'm pretty sure that was when he decided it was time for us boys to train with the armies.”
“What was it like? Having so many friends?”
Sion looked at Selenia, not understanding her meaning. “You mean Jurel and your brothers?”
She nodded. “I really don't have any friends back home.”
Selenia could feel Sion's chest expand and then tighten. She felt his hand rest on top of hers and looked down where their hands met. Her fair skin, his dark olive complexion on top.
“I'm your friend, Selenia,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight she hadn't heard before.
The simple statement sent a flutter through her chest. She turned her head slightly, catching his gaze. For a moment, they just looked at each other, something unspoken passing between them.
“I know,” she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just...I've always felt a bit left out. You all had your adventures, and I was just the little sister tagging along.”
Sion's arm tightened around her waist, a gesture that felt both protective and comforting. “You're not just a tag-along, Selenia. You never have been. You're strong, brave, and...” he paused, seeming to search for the right words, “and important. To all of us.”
Selenia felt warmth spread through her at his words, a feeling that had nothing to do with the desert heat. She leaned back slightly, allowing herself to relax against him.
“Tell me more about what happened in the Shadow Realm,” she said after a moment. “Not the...not the bad parts. But what you saw, what you learned. I want to understand.”
Sion was quiet for a long moment, and Selenia worried she had overstepped. But then he began to speak, his voice low and measured.
“It's a place of contradictions,” he said. “Beautiful and terrible all at once. The architecture is stunning, all sleek lines and imposing structures. But there's a darkness that seeps into everything. The people there...some of them are just trying to survive. Others have embraced the darkness.”
As he spoke, Selenia found herself captivated by his voice, by the way he painted pictures with his words. She asked questions, and he answered, their conversation flowing easily as the desert landscape passed by.
Hours later, as the first hints of dawn began to color the sky, Selenia realized that her exhaustion had faded. Despite the discomfort of her injury, she felt more at ease than she had in weeks. Sion's presence behind her was solid and reassuring, and she found herself wondering how she had never noticed before how well they fit together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Renya hunched over the small vanity, her eyes squinted in concentration. The quill trembled in her inexperienced grip as she attempted to form letters on the cream parchment. A large ink blot spread across the page, obscuring her careful efforts. She sighed, dipping the quill once more, determined to master this new skill and record her thoughts.
Margot had gifted her a leather-bound journal, its pristine pages both inviting and intimidating. In the long, solitary evenings that stretched before her, writing had become Renya's sole companion. Though Margot visited when she could, her duties in the castle often kept her away, leaving Renya to grapple with her isolation.
As she posed the quill over a fresh page, Renya's mind wandered to the conveniences of her former life. The smooth glide of a ballpoint pen seemed a distant luxury now. She made a mental note to ask Grayden if he had found any in the bag he'd recovered from the snowbank.
Grayden. The ache in her chest intensified as she realized they had been apart for over five weeks now. It was almost as long as the time they had spent together before Cressida whisked her away to the Shadow Realm. Her fingers instinctively reached for her ring, now tucked safely into her nightgown on the aragonite necklace.
Renya? Renya?
Grayden's voice echoed in her mind, more vivid than ever before. It was as if he stood right beside her, his presence almost tangible in its intensity.
Grayden? I can hear you!
I'm on my way. I'll be there soon. Get ready.
The quill clattered to the floor as Renya bolted to the window. She pressed her face against the cool glass, eyes straining against the unyielding darkness beyond. Though she could discern nothing in the oppressive gloom of the realm, her heart thundered in her chest, a mix of anticipation and fear coursing through her veins.
Renya's gaze darted around the room, suddenly uncertain of what, if anything, she wanted to take from this place of her captivity. She grabbed the pillowcase from her bed, hastily stuffing the notebook and quill inside. The journal held her deepest thoughts and fears; it couldn't be left behind to fall into the wrong hands.
She retrieved her dagger from its hiding place beneath the mattress. After a moment's hesitation, she found a blue ribbon and bound the weapon tightly to her calf, the cold metal a comforting presence against her skin. Beyond these meager possessions, there was nothing in this room she wished to carry forward into her freedom.
Renya rushed back to the window, her breath fogging the glass as she peered into the impenetrable night. The shadows seemed to shift and dance, playing tricks on her desperate eyes.
“Renya!”
