Concord 3 - Name of a Shadow - Ann Maxwell by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell
Language: bg
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-14T17:32:14+00:00

V

Light flared over their faces, limning each in a harsh blue blaze that recalled myths of star demons. When the Access energy ebbed, Faen and Kayle emerged in all the warm tones of humanity. Only Ryth remained apart, as enigmatic as a Sharnn god ... and more dangerous. His Sharnn cape wrapped around his body, clinging, then fanned as though in a breeze, but there was no breeze.

The three of them stepped off the Access platform into the receiving room of their luxurious Vintran h’kel.

“Do you think Lekel believed we were going to Sharn?” asked Kayle.

The Sharnn made a gesture of complete indifference.

Faen glanced sideways at him, then answered Kayle. “Probably. I told him that I would be on t’kirl.”

“T’kirl?” asked Kayle.

“An ancient custom,” explained Faen. “A way to heal wounds between the families of newly bound couples. Each goes to the other’s family and asks if there are any unpaid insults between them. If so, there is ritual recompense. When everyone is satisfied, we breathe m’zamay and move with crystal music and laugh while moonlight pours through the black lace of tere groves.”

Kayle smiled at her longing tone. “It sounds like a custom Sharn would appreciate.”

Faen looked narrowly at Ryth. His face was composed of forbidding planes and angles, dark and baffling.

“I doubt that Sharn cares about Malia’s customs,” she said coolly. “But t’kirl gave us the only reason to leave Malia that Lekel could not question.” She glanced at Ryth again. “How long do you suppose the Sharnn will go on acting like a castrated zarf?”

Before Kayle could frame a reply, Ryth’s long fingers traced apologies down Faen’s body. Her senses leaped in answer, though her talent warned her that the Sharnn stranger was still there, waiting beneath the warmth of his smile. Yet she could not help replying, fingertips kneading the muscular curves of his neck and shoulders.

“Where are the Carifil?” asked Ryth, rubbing his lips against her skin as though he had forgotten her special textures and fragrance.

“They came before us,” she replied while her fingers paid extravagant compliments to his hair and lips. “I never got closer to them than the room where they had waited.”

“Very bad for you?” said the Sharnn.

“Not exactly bad,” she said, nibbling on his fingertips. “Just very strong. Very distracting.”

“Don’t I distract you?”

Her answer was a lithe Malian movement that made his breath catch. The last of the cold stranger evaporated in a flash of sensual heat. Yet even then she sensed an aching shadow of pain deep inside him.

*What is it, laseyss?* she asked again.

*A pattern. A pattern that kills Malia. Or—* His mind closed.

*Or what?*

*No. Not until it is the only possible pattern. And even your Great Destroyer wouldn’t be that cruel.*

The Sharnn held her with a strength that would have been punishing, had it not been a pale reflection of his inner turmoil. Her lips gentled him until his arms loosened slightly. With a silent apology he released her and looked at their surroundings, seeing them for the first time.

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