19

Who are you?”

Only silence answered Selene within the dreamscape. The candlelight moved along the corridor of Northwind Castle until it faded around the corner.

What was that light? And why did it always leave her?

Selene watched it disappear, then lowered her head and stared down at her translucent body. Why was she here again? As she moved her fingers, she stretched out her senses, feeling along the dreamscape, searching for the sleeper.

It felt familiar. And powerful. Cool, like the mist that covered the Magyr Mountains on an early spring morning.

It felt like . . . her.

Her head shot up, but before she could think on it further, there was a rustling sound behind her.

Selene froze.

Swish. Swish. Like a dress across the stone floor.

Slowly, she looked back.

The Dark Lady moved between the patches of moonlight along the corridor, her body and face covered in dark fabric. The hood fluttered for a moment around her face, revealing lips black as night. “Little raven,” she whispered.

Selene stared at the ghoulish figure. She opened and closed her lips, but she couldn’t speak. Only one word entered her mind.

Fly.

She twisted around, burst into her raven form, and flew down the hall where the light had disappeared moments ago.

She was caught between the light and the Dark Lady as she raced within the halls of Northwind Castle—never catching up to one, barely escaping the other. Never a moment’s rest.

Right when it felt like her lungs would burst and her wings were on fire, Selene collapsed to the floor in her human form and watched the last of the light vanish around another corner.

“Why am I here?” She curled her fingers against the floor. “Why does my mind keep bringing me to this place?” But it wasn’t just her. The Dark Lady was here too. Was she keeping her trapped here?

She only had a few moments before the Dark Lady appeared again, but she couldn’t move. Every breath she dragged in through her lips felt like glass shards inside her lungs. Why can’t I escape?

Escape . . . Escape . . .

Selene sat up with a gasp and opened her eyes. She was back in her room, with the first few rays of dawn filtering through the window. She pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling as though she was going to vomit. Cold sweat met her fingertips. “What is happening to me?” she whispered. Was something changing with her gift? Why couldn’t she escape this dream or change it?

What did it mean?

There was rustling in the room on the other side of her wall. Selene stared at the door that led from her room to Damien’s. He must be up. Just hearing the sound of another human being made her heart slowly return to its normal beat.

She lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts returning from the dreamscape to the present. She listened to the movement on the other side of her wall.

Was Damien always this early of a riser?

She frowned. It was something a wife should know about her husband. And yet the only time she had spent in his bed was when they had first arrived, and she had helped him with his fever-induced nightmares.

They had been married for a month and yet nothing had happened between them. She sat up as heat spread across her cheeks. Her stomach felt like she had fallen down a flight of stairs. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for anything yet. They were only now speaking to each other again.

However . . . She remembered her declaration from a few days ago. I would like to know the kind of man I will be living with the rest of my life.

The rest of my life.

There was no place for fear in her future. She threw back the quilts and furs and stood. The cold floor and air swept across her exposed feet and thin nightgown. The sun appeared through the window with the pale light of winter. Today was the first day when she would learn more about Damien Maris. He said he wanted her advice on the other houses, and she was ready to hear what had transpired after they left Rook Castle.

And . . . she wanted to know more about him. Perhaps in her study of Damien, she would discover why his soul was the way it was. She might even discover how to change her own soul.

If that was possible.

After Essa brought her morning meal of tea and an egg, Selene headed out of her room and spotted Karl standing across the hall. “Good morning, Karl.”

He looked up. “Good morning, Lady Selene.”

“Where is Lord Damien this morning?”

“In his study.”

“Could you take me there?”

He frowned slightly, then nodded. “This way, my lady.”

Selene followed Karl along the hallway, passing by the windows that overlooked the sea and the cliff where Damien raised the water and communed with the Light. For one brief moment she glanced outside the glass panes and wondered if he would be out there today. And if so, would it be possible to join him sometime? If only to see how he did it, how he used his gift and spoke to the Light.

Ten minutes later, Karl stopped in front of a door on the other side of the castle and knocked.

“Yes?” came a muffled voice.

Karl opened the door and looked in. “Lady Selene wishes to see you.”

A chair scraped across the floor. “Please send her in.”

Karl stepped back while holding the door open. “My lady,” he said with a stiff bow.

“Thank you, Karl.”

Selene stepped into the study, her gaze moving across the room. Bookshelves lined both sides, each filled with books, tomes, artifacts, and small sculptures. In front of her stood a massive desk with one large arched window behind, filled with light blue sky.

Damien stepped around the desk and reached his hand out as he crossed the room. Before she could move, he swept her fingers up and kissed her across the knuckles, sending a jolt through her body. “I was not expecting you,” he said as he let go, a gentle smile across his face.

Her hand dropped to her side, but she could still feel the soft coolness of his lips across her skin. Her heart fluttered inside her chest, and her throat was suddenly tight. “You said you wished for my advice concerning the Great Houses.” Her voice came out higher than usual. She glanced at Damien, wondering if he had caught the strange pitch of her voice.

“Yes, I did. Let me see if I can procure a chair for you.”

Selene turned and watched Damien head to the door and speak to Karl outside.

He had changed from the man she had left in the library after revealing the vile secrets of her house. Damien had been more cordial ever since their more recent talk. He could be hiding how he really felt inside, but even if he was, he was at least trying.

The tension from that morning slowly slipped away, allowing her to relax a little as Damien turned back around. His eyes met hers, and her mouth went dry again. Such a stunning blue.

Dart’an!

Selene spun around and grasped her hands together and stared out the window ahead.

“I’m glad you came this morning.” Damien’s soft tenor tone carried behind her. He came around and stood by his desk. “I was going to find you today. I have a surprise for you.”

Her heart started thumping again. “A surprise?” she asked, thankful that this time her voice remained even. What was going on with her? She was acting like a shy young maiden.

“Yes. Taegis told me about your conversation with the weaponsmith, and I just received word that your swords are done.”

Her mind latched onto his last words. “Swords?”

Damien leaned against his desk and ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Yes. You had mentioned to Taegis that you didn’t want to lose your skills. I’ll warn you, though, it’s not common for a woman to use a weapon here at Northwind Castle.”

Selene went rigid. Was he going to tell her to behave like other ladies? Like how she imagined Lady Adalyn Luceras or Lady Ayaka Rafel did?

He looked up. “But I know this is important to you. And I said I would help you. Taegis thought doing something familiar would help you adjust to your new life here at Northwind Castle, and I agree.”

Selene blinked. Her first thoughts were wrong. Even though women training with weapons wasn’t something done here, he would encourage it anyway. To help her. Just like he said he would.

“Would you like to see them now? Maybe even test them out? I could use a break. I’ve been here all morning.”

Selene spoke before she could think. “Yes, I would like that very much. I would need to change first though.”

“I’ll escort you back to your room, then to the training room. How does that sound?”

A smile crept across her face, the first one in a long time. “You lead and I will follow.”

Damien smiled back and headed out of the study. Selene followed, her spirit light. Could they really make this union work? Was it possible that Damien believed she wanted to be a different woman?

Selene was surprised to find a loose tunic, pants, and soft-skinned boots hanging over her changing screen. After changing and redoing her braid, Selene emerged to find Damien waiting for her, clothed in a similar fashion. “Ready?” he asked.

“I am.” Her fingers were already itching to hold her new blades and feel the strength of her muscles. She followed Damien down the hall, then a flight of stairs to the first floor, around a corner, and down another hallway. “Should we have let Karl know where we are going?” she asked, her voice echoing along the stone corridor.

“No, I assume he’ll leave the chair in my study. I’ll need that extra chair there anyway since you’ll be coming now.” He smiled at her before stopping at a set of doors, sending another whooshing sensation through her belly. He opened the left one. “Here we go.”

Selene stepped inside, the smell of sweat and wood greeting her. Three dummies stood near the far wall, but the rest of the room was wide open. On the weapons’ table, right near the edge, were a set of twin blades that looked almost exactly like the ones she had to leave behind the night she left Rook Castle, only less ornate than the originals.

Selene walked over to the table and fingered the hilt of the blades. They looked to be about the right length and width. She picked one up, then the other, then hoisted both into the air. In the next movement, she swung the blades, getting a feel for the weight. The weaponsmith got the lengths right, with her lead sword longer than her other, a must for her technique. They were also a little heavier than her old blades, just slightly, but not enough to throw her off. But the curve to each blade was exactly how it should be.

“Well?” Damien asked behind her.

Selene turned around, a smile on her face. She couldn’t help it. These swords were the first thing that made Northwind feel like home. “A little heavy, but otherwise perfect.”

Damien leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his tunic. His hair had been trimmed recently and his face shaved, giving him a pleasing, clean appearance. “Good. The weaponsmith worked hard to finish them. And I’m glad the seamstress was able to make you something loose and comfortable to practice in.”

Selene looked down again at her clothing. “Yes.” Damien must have ordered them for her. She couldn’t remember Essa saying anything about training clothes when the maid was instructing the seamstress about her wardrobe. His thoughtfulness touched her.

“Would you like to try your swords out after you’ve had a chance to warm up?”

She looked up and raised one eyebrow. “Are you asking me to spar, Lord Damien?” The joy inside of her spilled out across her face and words.

He seemed taken aback for a moment by her playfulness before he returned her look with a grin. “I am. I’ve seen you practice against dummies and highwaymen. I would love to test your skills against my own.”

His smile made her heart do a weird flip inside her chest. Selene turned around and headed for the closest dummy as her face heated up. “I would like that,” she said without looking back and began her drills on the straw-stuffed canvas.

The familiar rhythm came back to her, the flow between her body and her blades. Her muscles had grown soft over the weeks, but they would be strong again soon. She hit the dummy with consecutive moves, each hit emitting a muffled sound.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Damien warming up nearby. But instead of using a practice dummy, he first stretched out his body, then went through a couple of motions with his own sword in the middle of the room. Her heart did that weird flip again. His physique, while not necessarily muscular, was certainly athletic. His moves were controlled, smooth, and potent—not wild with brute power.

Selene went back to her warm-up and wondered if Damien’s fighting style would be similar to Amara’s one-sword technique or different. Her lips quirked to the side. She was looking forward to this.

“Ready?” Damien asked ten minutes later.

Selene turned around, sweat beginning to form along her skin. “Yes.” She joined him in the middle of the training room and raised her right hand and longer blade and held it above her head while she staggered her feet, the majority of her weight along the back leg. Her left hand, holding the shorter blade, was held out in front of her.

Damien gripped his sword between his hands and held it between them, point up, his feet apart and knees slightly bent. “Ready?”

Selene nodded. “Ready.”

She blocked Damien’s first move with her shorter blade, then brought her longer blade around. He caught it with the side of his sword, pushed her blade away, and went for the opening. She blocked again.

The strength of her style was in her dexterity while Damien’s power came from strength itself. She danced and weaved around him, moving in when she could, bouncing back and blocking when he went for an opening.

He was strong. Stronger than Amara. Stronger than her mother. Stronger even than the highwaymen.

Selene sucked in another lungful of air. Heat radiated off of her body like a warming brick. She blocked again, but her movement was a hair slower. Did he notice?

Damien wiped the side of his face, then brought his sword up again.

This time, Selene attacked first, charging with her shorter sword and catching his as he lifted his own up to block. She went to jab him with her right as she pushed his sword away with her left, but he pulled out of her grasp, angled up, and knocked her sword to the side.

Before she had a chance to reset her swords, he was pointing his blade at her heart.

They stared at each other, panting, with sweat streaming down their skin. His dark hair glistened, and his eyes appeared even bluer next to his flushed cheeks.

Damien slowly lowered his sword, his eyes still on her. “You’re very good with your blades. For a moment, I thought you were going to best me.”

Selene dropped her hands, letting her new swords hang at her sides. “Apparently I haven’t lost all of my skills. But I was still defeated. You’re the strongest opponent I’ve ever fought.”

“So it wasn’t because of the blades?”

Selene held the right one up and looked across the edge. “No, they are well made. Thank you.”

Damien wiped his brow with the side of his sleeve. “Feel free to practice anytime you want.”

She glanced up. “Are you sure about that? I’m not like other ladies, Damien. My time at Rook Castle was spent training to fight, dreamwalk, and infiltrate a room at night. I have no idea how to embroider or paint or serve tea—”

Damien closed the gap between them and cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet his own. “Those kinds of things don’t matter to me.”

Selene couldn’t move or breathe. It was like her body had forgotten how.

He raised an eyebrow. “If you want to learn any of those pastimes, feel free. But they are not what make a lady.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “All right?”

“Yes.” The room was beginning to spin, and there was a rushing sound inside her ears.

He opened his lips as if he was going to say something more, but then he froze. Selene stared back, her heart beating inside her head, her chest, her entire body. His eyes grew more intense. The pull between them was like lodestone and iron. His head moved slightly forward, his lips parted—

Then he dropped his hand and took a step back.

Selene stepped back as well, confused by the sudden rush of emotions inside of her. She’d wanted to kiss him, and not, at the same time.

“I’m going to wash up in the baths and head back to my study. Join me if you like.” His face turned bright red. “In the study, that is.”

She blinked, confused, then her own face heated like a thousand suns.

There were muffled sounds behind her, and the door to the training room opened.

“. . . and then this raven appeared in my dream—Lord Damien!”

Damien looked over her shoulder. “Sten, Cedric. It is good to see you both.”

“My lord, we didn’t realize you were in here. Would you like us to come back later?” Sten asked.

Damien walked past Selene, his eyes firmly ahead and not on her. “No, Lady Selene and I just finished our routine. The room is all yours.”

Selene turned toward the table with the weapons to place her own down. She could feel the heat of her own face still blazing.

“You can take them with you,” Damien said.

She glanced over her shoulder and spotted him between the table and outer door.

“I also had a scabbard commissioned, but it is not done yet. In the meantime, feel free to store your swords in your room.”

There was still a tinge of red to his face, causing him to look more like a young man than a grand lord.

Suddenly she wanted to laugh, both to ease the awkwardness from moments before and at the look on his face. But she refrained, although the corners of her lips twitched. It was good to know Damien was an ordinary man, despite his title. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small bow and left the room.

After exchanging pleasantries with Sten and Cedric, Selene left the training room. For the first time since arriving at Northwind Castle, she felt hope for the future burgeoning inside her heart.