Starflower by Anne Elisabeth Stengl

Author:Anne Elisabeth Stengl [Stengl, Anne Elisabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC042000, FIC026000, FIC042080
ISBN: 9781441260475
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eanrin took a stroll.

Being a cat, he disliked appearing out of his depth. So as he sauntered down Etalpalli’s malevolent streets, he did so with the air of a dandy on his way to call on some maiden aunt, anticipating an evening of dreadful boredom, yet keenly aware of his own charm. His tail was up with the faintest curl at the tip, his whiskers were smooth, his eyes half closed.

No one would have guessed how madly his heart raced.

He couldn’t tell which distressed him more, his outward circumstances or his inward fury. Possibly the fury, which would be much more manageable if he could figure out exactly what he was furious about.

“Glomar and his heartless accusations, clearly,” he told himself. “The boor, hurling such slanderous notions my way! I am a Faerie, a Rudioban, an immortal bard. And I do not like the mortal girl.”

But he did. Which was the worst part.

At least for the moment he could enjoy the gift of solitude. He needed it desperately if he was going to clear his head and reevaluate his situation. Here he was, deep in Etalpalli. Why was he even here? He remembered the rush of the River, the feel of Imraldera’s hair in his hand, the fall . . . He had leapt into the water to save her, but why had they even ventured near the River?

“Gleamdren,” he said. “Of course, Gleamdren! You are here for your own purpose. Forget the other wench. You are well rid of her, and you never wanted anything to do with her in the first place. It was all the—”

He stopped. The face of the Hound appeared before his mind’s eye. With a shudder, he shook it away.

What a shambles his life had become since he’d glimpsed the Hound! He’d rather have been run to the ground by the Black Dogs, torn to shreds in their ravenous jaws, and dragged to the Netherworld. In Death’s realm, though but a ghostly vapor, he would remain Eanrin.

But once the Hound caught him, what of himself would be left?

“He drove you to the mortal girl,” he muttered, walking on. “He drove you against your will. And now see what has become of you! She ran you completely off course, and now she’s . . . gone.”

His heart hurt in his chest. The thought of Imraldera dragged off by those monsters to some unknown fate sickened him. He reeled, shaking his head, and suddenly took on his man’s form again. Leaning against the wall of the nearest tower, ignoring how the stones burned through his thin shirt, Eanrin took his head between his hands.

“You should never have done it!” he snarled. “You should never have helped her. Curse that Hound! Curse that girl! Curse them all and let them rot in their curses, or they’ll destroy everything you are.”

No time passed in Etalpalli. No shadows or drifting clouds. It might have been a thousand years, for all Eanrin knew or cared, before he stood and shook himself out.

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