Page 4 of A Legacy of the Light

Nestled inside the box, resting on green velvet, is a round pendant. A deep green emerald makes up the trunk of a tree, beautifully crafted in delicately woven silver Celtic knots. The emerald is about the size of half my little finger, and each end breaks off in jagged spikes where it’s held in place by the silver roots and branches wrapped around it.

It’s captivating.

I don't usually wear jewelry, but something draws me to it, as if it was made for me. After admiring the pendant for a moment, I pick it up and see that it’s attached to a simple silver chain. As my fingers close around it, energy courses through me, running from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

The emerald pulses a soft green as it lands on my bed when I drop it with a hiss, the energy feeling like an electric shock. I pick it up again to examine it but the stone in the centre only glints in the soft light of my bedside lamp.

I must be over-tired, I decide, and carefully place the pendant back in the box on my nightstand and roll over to get some sleep.

My dreams that night are plagued with dark shadows and the need to run for my life.

Chapter 2

Friday rolls around quickly. Work meetings on top of work meetings and false smiles on top of false smiles. I deserve an Academy Award for the show I’ve put on this week.

I’m counting down the hours until I can go home and just stop pretending.

“Elsieeeeee!”

I fight a grimace. When Rachel Knox says my name like that, it normally means trouble. I look over my shoulder and spot her scooting her way over to me on her chair, a devilish look in her eye.

“What are we doing tonight for your birthday?” Rachel asks hopefully.

“Ugh, Rach, I just want to go home and curl up with my book,” I say, perhaps a little more forcefully than I intended. Rachel has been good to me; when all my other friends have abandoned me in my grief, she has stood by me.

“Girl, you should actually go and get laid rather than reading fairy porn.” She lifts a brow in challenge.

“Hey, it's not fairy porn. It’s fantasy romance, and don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I'd rather have the real thing,” she quips.

“That’s easy for you, Rach, you’re beautiful!” I reply.

Rachel and I met in college and she’s the most stunning person I’ve ever met. She’s tall, with bronzed skin and hair the color of milk chocolate that falls in natural waves down to her waist. Paired with a gorgeous hourglass figure that most women would kill for, and the palest gray eyes you’ve ever seen. She gets attention wherever she goes and I get the leftovers. I have no desire to make small talk with someone's married friend while his pal hits on Rach tonight.

I just want to be alone. I always want to be alone.

“Pfft, so are you, babe, you just don’t see yourself the way I see you,” she scoffs. “I’ll make you a deal. We go out tonight, and I’ll leave you to a certain winged high lord for a whole month.”

Damn.

She knows me. That series has me in a chokehold and I can’t deny it.

“Ha! I knew you’d read it!” I reply.

Seems I’m not the only one who enjoys a steamy fantasy.

“Elsie, do we have a deal?” she presses.

“Fine, I’ll go out, but you’re doing my makeup because I cannot be arsed, Rach.” I sigh in defeat. She isn’t going to let this go.

“I love it when you say arsed like that. You’re not even Scottish, babe!”

I laugh at her, unable to help myself. That’s Granny’s fault. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes her Scottish influence comes out, like the fact I call her Granny.

Rach must be working with Grandpa to try and get me to celebrate my birthday this year.

She throws her arms up in celebration and makes plans to come to my apartment after she’s run home, grabbed some clothes, and had a shower.