Eye of the Storm (Lords of Arcadia) by Goode John

Author:Goode, John [Goode, John]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harmony Ink Press
Published: 2012-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

I/HE plunges his/my sword into his/my chest.

I’m/he’s reminded of the first time we met and he/I did the same to him.

We were connected at that point, neither one of us truly understanding what that action meant.

I/he looks down at him/me and I/he can see our entire future spread out before us.

I/he hardly knows him/me yet it feels as if we’ve known each other our entire lives.

He’s/I’m dying, and that makes me/him sad because we thought there was more time.

There is never enough time.

He/I feel myself slipping away and my/his voice comes from farther and farther off until it is impossible for him/me to hear the words. But I/he knows what they are, because he’s/I’m saying them back.

He/I loves me/you too.

I/he wonders if his/my mother will cry when she discovers his/my death.

“No one is dying,” I/he says.

He/I realize that I’m/he’s coming after him/me.

He/I try to wave me/him away, but it is no use. Like a skydiver/owl riding the air currents down, my/his soul slams into his/mine.

And for a moment we are one.

“That’s what a Kardasian is?” I ask him as our memories begin to blur.

“I would have made a passable pleasuring,” I scream as our memories continue to merge.

I see myself stabbing him though his memories, and I smile as I feel the attraction he had even as he thought he was dying.

I feel the way he felt self-conscious for the first time in his life as he looked for a shirt to put on after I had barged into the house he, Ruber, and Spike were squatting in.

I feel the warmth of my hand as I take his in the movie theater.

I feel the terror in his mind as he grabs my hand, wondering if I am going to reject him.

“Why would I reject you?” I ask him, shocked that he would think anyone would ever reject him. And in that second I have my answer. He is Hawk’keen Maragold, heir to the throne of Arcadia, and before he came to Athens, he assumed everyone would desire him. After all, he was, in Faern terms, perfect in every way. He was raised as such, and there wasn’t a man or woman alive who would dare spurn his advances.

And then he had met me.

“You are like no one I have ever met,” he says with a small smile. “You unnerve me.”

I smile back even though we are pure thought instead of flesh and blood at the moment. So the smile comes across like a beam of light that frames his face in a way that fashion models have dreamt of since the invention of the camera. It wasn’t his looks. Well, okay, at first it was all his looks, but it was more now. The core of him, his heart, is more attractive than anything the eyes could see. He wasn’t arrogant or certain he knew everything. The truth was just the opposite, in fact. He knew there was so much he didn’t know, yet he had faith that things would work out the way he thought they should.

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