In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3 by Lisa Blackwood

Author:Lisa Blackwood [Blackwood, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-01-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

A persistent droning woke Sorsha. The annoying sound might actually be soft drumming, but her brain hurt too much to decipher the difference. She rested on her side, her arms and legs dead weights, her eyelids too heavy to open. She lay still for several moments, attempting to remember how she had come to be there. Slowly, too slowly, it began to trickle back to her a piece at a time.

Tomb Guards. Lamarra’s capture. Shadowdancer carrying Sorsha to safety. Then Grey Spire’s defenses activating and nearly killing them both. The Wild Path and the Wardlen. Shadowdancer almost dying. And… and… holding his Larnkin within her body, sheltering his soul while she healed him.

Light’s mercy. Had it really happened or was it a dream?

Despite her tiredness, Sorsha struggled to open her stiff, puffy eyelids. Blinking rapidly helped her blurry surroundings come into sharper focus. She was in a tent. By the drying herbs suspended from the ceiling and the medicinal scent permeating the air, it was likely a place of healing. The sound she’d heard upon first waking was actually the steady sound of rain. Wind blew out of the east in damp, fierce gusts, shaking the pavilion’s stout support poles and clawing at its heavy cloth walls.

Shadowdancer lay in a narrow bed across from her, still as human as she. On his opposite side, a woman of indeterminate age, one Sorsha mistook as a fellow human at first glance, was bent over Shadowdancer’s bed, whispering in a soft, melodious voice. There was something strange about the woman’s fluffy, jet-black hair. It wasn’t until the woman tilted her head as if listening that Sorsha noticed one strand had shifted away from the rest of the dark mass, solving the mystery. A long, ebony feather dangled down over the woman’s collar bone to gently brush the embroidered neckline of her honey colored vest. The last person she’d seen with plumage like that had been Ashayna’s phoenix bondmate. This strange woman didn’t have the wings or broad tail of a phoenix, but Sorsha would bet her favorite bow this woman was some kind of mixed bloodline.

Shadowdancer nodded his head ever so slightly at the woman’s questioning tone. Sorsha hadn’t realized he was awake until then.

Sorsha needed to hold him, to feel the beat of his heart. The compulsion was unreasoning and impossible. Her body wouldn’t obey her brain’s commands. Involuntarily, a small sound of frustration escaped her. Both Shadowdancer and the stranger looked over at her.

“I can’t move.” A note of fear crept into her voice. “Shadowdancer?” It came out more plea then question. She needed him, needed him to come to her, hold her, hear the reassurance in his soothing mind-voice.

Emotions flirted across his face—worry, then grief, and finally what might be guilt.

“Shadowdancer?”

He struggled with his blanket and she thought he was trying to come to her. Tears glimmered on his lashes. His expression changed to despair. He flailed, sending his pillow onto the floor. A brutal, savage sound escaped him. Rolling onto his side, he managed to gain his feet.

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