Starlex rode her white horse, Sola, on the path of the Pale Forest. Shafts of violet moonlight filtered through wind-rustled treetops. The sweet scent of Flodorias, yellow blossoms dipping into the path from low-hanging branches, and the crunch of dry leaves beneath Sola’s gave her comfort. Feeling no need to rush, she kept Sola at a slow walk. Doubting she would sleep at all that night, she planned to stay out until dawn, where she hoped the rising sun would obliterate the shadows of the day's events.

The image of what had happened to Carmelle was a hot brand burned into her brain, and she could not erase the scar. She had gone to Tylla afterward and tried to comfort her, but her young niece was inconsolable, weeping and thrashing on the bed until Flenn Illymium had at last given her a potion to help her sleep. Starlex wondered at the depth of Tylla's passion, selfishly wishing she could experience a love so intense, no matter the cost.

I'd welcome the pangs of love over this empty, lonely prison that is my life.

Tears of self-pity welled up in her violet eyes. It was a familiar emotion, and tonight under only the stars' watchful gazes, Starlex reached into her own heart and massaged her painful longing. Letting Sola find the way, she loosened the reins and leaned forward over the horse's neck, weeping into the soft white mane.

No man will ever love me how Tylla loves Carmelle because of what I am, an Illymium. An outsider. A freak!

After the siege of Mynimium, the other hundred or so of her kinsmen had been brought back to Oran, but except for her cousin Rigel, none lived within the citadel. Most were scattered to the winds to make their own way in the country. But unaccustomed to physical labor and unsuited for farming or even trade occupations, they fell into poverty and disgrace. There were tales of mad Illymiums living in the caves of Terragonian Bluff, wandering the cliffs at night, mad men and woman screaming at the moons, their children in rags, scavenging the land for food. Some had been caught stealing from farms and were executed on the spot. Many of the women turned to selling their delicate, pale-skinned bodies for a meal and a bed. Starlex had overheard crude men brag of rutting Illymium whores to death.

Dry your tears, you fool, she admonished herself before she plummeted too far into her grief. You are one of the fortunate ones.

She stopped on the high ridge before veering down the path leading to the sea as she gazed at the sky. The mother moon and her obedient daughter, milky white and glowing, bathed the Crimson Sea in glittering prisms of light. A cool breeze skittered across the surface of the water, blowing back the errant white tresses from her pale, oval face.

She would speak to Flenn Illymium about her feelings, she decided. Unburden her heart to the ancient seer. Perhaps Flenn would give her some guidance about what to do with her life. She didn't want to remain in the palace, a burden to her sister, just dreaming her life away. She wanted more, a purpose, love ...

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

At first, she thought the sound she heard was an approaching storm, but the sky was clear and studded with stars. But then Sola's head rose, her ears pricking at the sound of thundering hooves moving through the Pale Forest and coming right toward her.

Ribbing her sandaled feet into Sola’s flanks, Starlex flew down the path to the moon-bleached beach. Her hair flying behind her like a flag, she rode along the frothy surf. She hoped it was Scipio's men, out for a midnight drill. But she knew better than to hold onto that hope, and so did Sola.

She rode hard along the shore, the hammering hooves growing louder and louder in her ears until she dared to take a peek over one shoulder. Six Nazeer warriors riding astride black steeds were gaining on her with each stride, scattering sand and surf.

Starlex pulled the leather crop she rarely used from her belt and smacked it down on the mare’s flank. Sola bolted forward with a snort and a kick.

What in Heavens are the Nazeers doing? What do they want with me?

Starlex looked straight ahead, pointing Sola's nose at the harbor where the Skaards' fleet bobbed in the bay. Weak flames from torches still blazed, winking light in the darkness. The Skaard men on night watch would protect her. She thought longingly of Bonn Skaard with his broad shoulders and intense blue eyes. She imagined him sitting beneath a torch at the harbor, running a whetstone along the edge of his long blade.

Sola's white mane fluttered in the wind, her lathered neck glistening in the moonlight. Starlex knew her mare would soon be played out. The harbor lights twinkled before her wind-whipped sight.

If I can only get there in time!

Darting a glance to her left, she saw a black horse running neck and neck beside her. A gauntleted hand reached out to grab her reins. Starlex raised her crop and struck the man's arm, but her attack was useless against his chainmail sleeve.

A horse and rider flanked the right side of her along the surf; another rider cut her off in front, spraying wet sand in the mare’s face.

Sola reared up, hooves beating the air. Starlex was thrown backward, nearly tumbling off. Her crop slipped from her fingers as she struggled to maintain her seat. A man seized her around the waist and roughly pulled her from the saddle.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Sola, reins dangling, running up the beach toward the Pale Forest.

The next thing Starlex knew, she was in the surf on hands and knees. A cold wave rolled over her. She sucked in saltwater. Her brain buzzed, panicked. She was going to drown, to have her body wash out to sea, to become food for sea creatures, never to be seen again. A searing pain settled in her lungs as she struggled to breathe.

Is this how it ends? she thought, nearly surrendering to the watery grave. To die without ever knowing love? Would anyone even care or weep?

She was being scraped along the sand, knees rubbed raw and her soaked gown clinging to her exhausted limbs. Calloused hands pulled her from the wet sand and threw her like a limp sack over a horse’s back. The saddle creaked as a rider settled in behind her. She could feel the man’s heat, his weight.

One of the men shouted, “Kyeme!” “Ride,” it meant, in the old Nazeer tongue, Starlex thought as she faded into unconsciousness.