The cool darkness of the hallway brought a welcome relief as Meira stepped out of the Verena’s chambers. The woman had continued to talk about her potential, about Meira bringing the Juri’a and Khaantul people together again, and the anxiety crested as hard as the destiny the Verena was laying before her. Meira rested her head against the stone for a few minutes, closing her eyes and letting her rough breaths slow, even as her thoughts continued their sprint.

The thought began as an urgent whisper, and Meira’s eyes opened to glance around the silent gallery before her. She stool in the central hall where she had first been presented to the Verena. It was bathed in moonlight. Shafts of light danced across the still pool in the center of the room, while the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the alcoves around the space. The empty space.

A lack of guards was not something Meira had felt since she had arrived at the palace, and her mind urged her feet into action. Sticking to the shadows along the wall, Meira slipped to the side door that led to the hall where they had first taken her. The hinges slid with the slightest creak, but Meira spied no one on the other side.

Pulling one of the sharp pins from her hair, she palmed the decoration. She knew her stealth was borrowed, and she did not share the Juri’a qualms for blood. The hall was as silent as the assembly, but she didn’t move, eyes scanning the stone. There!

The finger marks she had trailed throughout the afternoon’s excursion with Kirsi glowed a faint blue from the phosphorescent oil she’d grabbed from the lantern. It had led to the wicked burn across her right palm, but the pain was worth it if she could get out. With one more glance down the hall, Meira followed the trail around the corner towards the back of the palace.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Wielders guarded the outer walls; but she only needed one to open up a space for her to slip out. The west wall was less guarded, with the sheer cliffs below. Meira paused at a pillar, studying the small, open courtyard she would need to cross to reach the western side.

“The moon is lovely this time of year, no?”

Meira couldn’t contain her yelp of surprise as she spun towards the unwelcome intrusion. The smug face of Sorin, casually leaning against the palace wall, told her that was exactly what the man had intended. He observed her, shadowed eyes taking in her racing pulse and flustered air.

“I- I was looking for the healers. For my hand,” Meira offered quickly, holding up her bandaged limb for emphasis. Sorin continued to watch, finally uncrossing his arms and pushing off of his perch. He sauntered across the space between them, his loose hair and intimidating demeanor reminding Meira once again of a big cat on the prowl.

He took her bandaged hand in his and she felt the singing energy bloom in her core. Whenever she touched wielders, she felt the sizzling, sparking power thrum to life. This was greater than any she had experienced with Kirsi, however. His eyes stayed on her palm, pushing the bandage back with a gentleness she did not expect.

“How did one hand get burned so badly, I wonder?”

Sorin’s rumbling voice curled around the question. There was something in his tone that made Meira’s blood raw with dread; a knowing that she prayed meant a quick death.

Ages seemed to pass before the man dropped her hand, looking at her, “We can’t have the D’vasia hurt.”

His loud bark in Juri’a made Meira jump, turning to see a guard scuttling from her station down the hall. The two Juri’a spoke rapidly in their native language, and the dread seeped further.

“Kavan will take you to the healers. Don’t want you getting lost,” Sorin said in Khaantul, words dripping with a tension Meira saw reflected in his sleeted eyes. With a simple nod and mumbled thanks, Meira turned to follow the appointed guard, disappointment and relief vying for dominance.

Sorin stared after the departing woman, waiting until she was out of sight. Returning to the wall, he ran a finger over the faint glow that remained.

This one was smart for a Khaantul. He would have to be smarter.