By Shiloh Walker
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The lives of my people are at stake. Many, many lives. ” Tyan snapped his wings closed. He growled and started to pace the small confines of the courtyard. “What is this pact? You spoke of it in Urn, you speak of it now. Tell me more of it—and if there’s some unholy alliance between Oonkaen and elf, explain why none of us have heard of it. ” “This unholy alliance, as you call it, is something my father has kept close to his chest, goblin. He cannot have others know, for they’d act to stop him. Not all of my kin think as my father does, but he isn’t a fair or just ruler.
She struggled to rouse herself from her slumber, forced her lashes to lift. But even as she fought against the veil of sleep, some odd, sickly-sweet cloth covered her mouth and nose. Once more, she was lost to the darkness. Such odd, fleeting dreams…but it seemed fitting enough that she find some way to escape her life, even it was only within the safety of her dreams. The heavy curtain of sleep wrapped around her, dragging her down even when hunger and the need to empty her bladder tried to drive her to the surface.
A hand took hers and she almost wept with relief. She couldn’t see him, but she didn’t need to see him to see. At that light touch, she caught sight of his soul and the pure, noble strength within him was such a welcome relief she could have cried. Such a welcome relief that it took a few moments before she realized that not only was his hand warm, hard and strong, but it felt blissfully normal and gentle as it wrapped around hers. Long fingers, a wide, calloused palm. There was strength in his grasp, but nothing of cruelty.