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“I’m fine,” I assured her.
“Where’s Gwenda?”
“She likes to go off by herself, but she always finds me.”
Murgha nodded while looking around at the gurgling brook flowing with the clear blue water of snow-melt from high in the Solgavias. There was sparse vegetation, but a lone, thick-trunked elm tree sprouted in a nice spot with some flat stones.
I observed the entire area, seeking any signs of danger. I hadn’t seen anyone, but I sensed there may be shadow fae nearby. There should be a patrol on guard a little higher up. The fact that I hadn’t seen anyone should’ve eased my tension, but it didn’t.
Prince Torvyn had grown more distant over the past year. Who could blame him with the king’s maddening rages? But even that wasn’t what set all of us on edge, what had caused our corps of priests to become more and more vigilant. The evil was spreading, and our efforts to suppress it were futile.
Murgha stepped along the brook, smiling serenely. She wanted to know why we guarded the mountain. I’d have to tell her eventually. But for now, I wanted to keep that ugly truth to myself.
My gaze caught on something farther up the stream. Instantly, I walked toward it, passing Murgha, but as I did, I took her hand gently in mine.
She startled but didn’t pull away.
“Come see,” I said, tugging her toward the bush.
She followed, letting me hold her small hand in mine. That simple touch accelerated my heart rate. Yet again, that deep ache in my fangs, the need to put my mark on her, was growing fierce.
A shadow fae didn’t hesitate when he found his mate. He simply took her. It was common among my kind. Our females understood. Often, they’d fight the male off. He’d have to prove himself worthy of claiming her by dominating her in battle, then in bed. If he could subdue her, then he was good enough for her to accept his bite.
But Murgha wasn’t a shadow fae female, born with the gifts of a warrior and of illusion. She couldn’t get away from me if she tried. So small. So delicate. A hard possessiveness clutched me in an iron fist.
So I wouldn’t heed the desperate urge burning a hole inside my chest, pushing me to grip her hard, hold her down, and sink my teeth and cock inside her. Not yet.
“Look.” My voice was deep and rough, but I kept a gentle hold on her hand, showing her what I’d seen.
She gasped. “Dellabore!”
Letting my hand go, she rushed forward and kneeled before the flowering bush. The black-pedaled leaves gleamed with a silky sheen even on this cloudy day.
“They’re so beautiful,” she marveled, beaming up at me.
Her smile made her more lovely, the sight tearing into me a little deeper.
“I’ll go make a fire.”
“Can I take some of the flower petals? Will they harm me?”
“There’s no toxin in the petals or the leaves but use your dagger. They’re tough. And be careful of the spikes on the leaves.”
She was pulling her dagger from the scabbard as I turned and headed back down the small incline. I needed more space. Ineeded a moment to quell this growing desire I couldn’t seem to control.
Shaking my head at myself, I pulled the portable firepit from my satchel. I’d always been a man of control, the High Priest of Gadlizel with unshakable nerve and poise. Torvyn would laugh if he saw me now, completely undone by a tiny, fair-haired light fae.
I’d told the prince—and my best friend—where I’d been going the past many months. He knew of my vow to my father, but he also knew my duty to him and to Gadlizel came first. At least, it had…before I’d seen her. Before I’d realized she was my divine mate, given to me by the gods.
I’d always imagined my mate would be a fierce warrior, perhaps touched with golden hair by Solzkin himself. I imagined she might be serious and strong with great black wings, so the two of us could soar high over the peaks together.
I could never in my wildest fantasies have imagined that she would be someone like Murgha—small and sweet and so very vulnerable. My heart twisted.
She had no wings to escape danger, no training as a warrior. Though she could wield a tiny dagger fast enough. I smiled at the memory of her holding it to my throat, ready to defend herself. Her courage was greater than any shadow fae female I’d ever known. Murgha had every reason to cower against an opponent twice her size, but she didn’t.
After setting up the blue coal fire, I went about pulling out the bread and cheese that Jessamine had wrapped for us. Murgha might be hungry.
Standing, I peered up the stream, not seeing her at the dellabore bush. “Murgha?”
