CHAPTER 8

A restless emotion he hadn't felt since his fledgling years rose in his chest. The corner of his mouth lifted. He was anxious to meet his night breeze. Longed to wake up next to her. Rune glanced at the undisturbed sheets on the empty side of his bed. He found himself curious if she would curl to him in her sleep as she had in the dreams. Or would he wake to find her sleeping on her side, with his sheets low on her waist?

He imagined brushing the backs of his fingers over her bare back, already missing the feel of her soft skin. Rune thought back to the dreams that weren't dreams at all. Her mental tether connected their minds, allowing her to visit him while he slept. He eased his senses over it, not wanting to disturb her if she was still asleep. He withdrew at the first touch of her mental barriers.

The Ra'Voshnik was strangely calm, satisfied for the time being. Or until it roused enough to realize she was now gone. Spending time with her pacified the creature, but his body didn't fare as well. He was strung too tight. Taut and anxious for… he didn't know. He had no words for what he felt. The strain, while not entirely unpleasant, was certainly uncomfortable.

Rune rose, making his way to the shower.

He stepped under the water, letting the hot water sluice over his back. His thoughts seemed to always circle back to her. Questions one after the other. What was she doing now? Did his queen have a court of her own or belong to an established one.

He imagined her speaking to her queen, requesting permission to invite him to court. Would her queen believe her when she confessed, she snared the Shadow Prince? He had much to discuss with his secretive night breeze. What court they occupied mattered little to him; he would follow her lead.

Rune finished showering and dressed in a tailored black suit.

He straightened the lapels of his jacket in the mirror. He had a meeting with the High Council at midday he would attend begrudgingly. He sent his monthly reports, but the mortal Artithian King pestered him constantly, summoning him at least twice a month.

Jha'ant was a mere decade into his rule, and Rune already looked forward to the next king's appointment.

Rune should have seen The Crumbling yesterday, but he'd attended the Hunter's Moon ball instead.And found his night breeze.He needed to send her court a letter of intent, asking permission to pursue her romantically. She seemed tight-lipped about her court. Perhaps she contemplated leaving them and starting her own court with him.

The Ra'Voshnik purred its agreement and Rune paused for a moment. He'd subdued the creature ages ago. Confining it to the recesses of his mind. It remained dormant for the most part, silent unless Rune tasted the emotions of fear. The Ra'Voshnik roused for his night breeze, struggling against its confines as it had in Rune's youth.

He ignored the creature and straightened his cufflinks. He would deal with it after he found his dark queen. She refused to speak with him across the mental tether she tied to his mind, but he could locate her court another way. Address the letter to her instead of her queen. She answered the wish he'd made at the depth of his power. A wish that would only be heard by a shard as dark or darker than he was. She carried a shard of Darkness, which should be relatively easy to find.

With luck, he would locate his night breeze and have his letter sent before his meeting.

Rune phased to the grand library housed within the Artithian palace. It extensively cataloged information from each realm in a centralized source.

This gaudy, multi-level palace, in its gilded whites and golds, served as the capital of the five realms. Rune walked through the familiar halls; ornate bookshelves lined in matching rows on either side of him. He'd spent much of his first two centuries here, researching spells and techniques to hone his power. The library stood ten stories high, each floor dedicated to a specific area of study or information.

Rune arrived on the third floor, the leather-bound books dedicated to courts and shard registries. Several of the darker courts requested listings of the dark-blooded shards who were not associated with a court. They would send invitations attempting to fold them into their ranks with offers of wealth or position.

He could have asked the librarians that served here to assist him. He'd decided against it. Their assistance would draw unwanted attention to her and himself. He valued his privacy and was not in the habit of explaining himself. His search for a woman would invite too many questions he had no desire to answer.

The books were organized chronologically. Rune strolled to the end of the hall, where the most recent volumes were stored. He selected the dark-blooded shard registries covering the current century. He narrowed his eyes, reading the spines of the adjacent leather-bound books. Court appointments may prove useful. Newly formed courts. He could narrow his search by race. Though he wasn't sure what she was.

The only winged race was Artithians. The race was divided in two. The Artithians with feathery wings were short-lived mortals, existing for less than a century. Her wings thankfully were reptilian, the immortal variety. Only Artithians didn't possess her physical characteristics. Their wings ranged from green to black. Her iridescent scales didn't fit, and neither did her claws.

Her soul shard would be the most efficient means to locate her. She carried a shard of Darkness, must have recently come into her power. Another shard of Darkness would set Necromia a buzz with gossip. Lyssa and every other dark court would offer her wealth and privilege, anything within their means to bring her into their ranks. Males would flock to her—moths drawn to a flame.

Rune frowned. Was he not drawn to her as well? Another moth.

He concluded she was twenty, just invoked her blood. She may very well have come to the ball to seek him out. He and Morbid were the only males who carried a shard of Darkness. Did she mean to ask him to see her through her Ceremony of Blood and lose her nerve?

After a woman invoked her blood, she could see what was necessary to survive her ceremony. If she survived, the woman would raise with a tendril, capable of healing or injuring as she chose. During the ritual, women surrendered their virginity and plummeted toward the Darkness. The darker her shard, the harder she fell. A trusted court member or a blood priest or priestess performing the ritual would breach her and keep her from falling until the danger passed.

He'd seen one ceremony more than twenty centuries ago. Lyssa requested their court see her through her ritual. The duty would fall to the darkest unattached court member. Belind brewed a concoction that roused his body to comply, but Lyssa had been ritual. He did what was needed and left her bed when the danger passed.

His night breeze would be different. He would worship and honor her. The brewed concoction he'd once taken to rouse his body would be unnecessary with her.

Rune phased to his research suite within the palace. His surroundings faded in the blink of an eye, and his suite came into sharp focus. He stood in a large well-lit room with tall arching ceilings. Large ornately carved double doors swept up the wall. The carved railings and bookshelves both matched the door's design.

A long, gilded table was the dominating piece of furniture here, near a few steps leading to a raised platform. A carved banister separated it from the ground level. Against the wall of the platform were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves containing the tomes Rune selected himself or requested from the librarians.

While considered fashionable to Artithians, Rune found the architecture garish. Preferring his keep with its gray stone walls. He sat at the head of the table, neatly arranging the books beside him.

He leased this suite from the reigning Artithian house. Over the twenty centuries he kept this room, he'd seen the ruling house change a number of times. Some had been peaceful, an old king without heirs abdicating his throne for a strong relative to take his place. Others were bloody.

Rune paid little attention to the affairs of mortals. They aged and died within a minuscule amount of time. No different than animals.

He opened the shard registry, reading over the entries. Reviewing every entry dating back the last two weeks, he noticed she wasn't listed. He'd read it again to be sure.

Her family could have bribed the archivists to keep her from ending up on the lists of dark courts purchased for recruitment, but she would still be recorded. Rune phased back to the bookshelf holding the most recent shard registries. He brushed his fingertips along the spines, searching for the shard registries specific to Artithia.

Rune pulled the book when he found it and leaned back on the carved railing behind him. He flipped the pages open, reviewing the Artithian entries. She had to be here.

Hours passed as he poured over every entry made during the past three months. His fingers grazed over the pages as he read. Rune rolled his stiff neck. How could she be this strong and not be documented?

Lancing pain shot through his skull and Rune's fangs lengthened.

The Ra'Voshnik broke from its confines to circle Rune's mind, growling its displeasure.Tear the bird king's wings from his back,it grated.

Be silent,Rune growled at the creature as a second stabbing pain seared his mind. The High Council was short-lived. A safeguard Belind put in place.They help keep perspective. She decreed.

Rune lost track of time looking for his night breeze. His meeting with the High Council was overdue. Be damned if the Artithian King ever learned to communicate through Rune's talisman instead of channeling power through it. Spelling it to share the pain he caused could prove to be a motivational tool.Or an act of war depending on the bird king's mood.

Rune sent a warning growl to silence the bird king and returned to his research suite. He reached across the tether to his night breeze and withdrew when he felt her metal shielding remained in place. That she kept a tether to his mind but refused to communicate with him perplexed him. If she visited him again tonight, he would learn her name.

He debated asking for a listing of all dark-bloods from the past week and decided against it. That he intended to court a woman would provide Necromia with ample gossip. He didn't need that fire lit before he had a chance to pen a letter of intent to her.

Rune ran his hand through his hair, reminding himself she recently came into her power. He needed patience. The newly documented dark-blooded entries would update tomorrow. The scribes were typically a week behind. Recording the blacklist into a spelled time, then updating each copy linked to it. Rune vanished the heavy leather-bound book so it would travel with him unseen.

He phased, materializing at the center of an airy building separate from the Artithian palace. The open-air, domed structure served as the meeting place for the High Council.

The white and gold constant throughout Artithian architecture gleamed in the sunlight. Rune inherited his mother and father's blood. He was a Pure Blood like his mother, but his father's blood placed him in Hell and allowed him to walk in the sun. While uncomfortable, Rune didn't burn like others of his kind.

He knelt in protocol on the raised, circular platform called The Eyes. A long, narrow table followed the platform bending in a half-circle. Rows of seats provided space for anyone who wished to witness court announcements, bindings, or blood debts.

Today the large domed building held no audience. A private meeting between Rune and the High Council. Rulers of each realm made up the committee, seated at their table at the edge of The Eyes. Rune assumed his father's mantle as Hell's ruler but held no interest in serving on the High Council. As a compromise, Rune's younger brother Jareth served in his stead.

"Shadow Prince." Jha'ant, the Artithian King, spoke his title in protocol.

Rune rose, canting his head and said, "Apologies for my tardiness."

Jha'ant cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "I've grown concerned. There has been no progress against The Crumbling."

Rune never cared for explaining himself, never tolerated the opinion of a short-lived creature. He obeyed the High Council Belind created so long ago because honoring the way they ruled was all he had left of them. "I exhaust myself on the matter." Rune said, thinning his lips as he pinned Jha'ant with his gaze. "Destroying a realm would be a less daunting task."

The Artithian King averted his gaze and turned to Morbid. "You assigned him to the task. Is it beyond his capability?"

Kill the talking bird,Ra'Voshnik growled through his mind.

Be silent. Rune hissed, ready to silence the creature if it continued with its outbursts.

The Familiar King tilted his chair to balance precariously on its two back legs, resting his booted feet on the table as he laced his fingers behind his head. "I said it would be in Rune's best interest to look into The Crumbling." Morbid corrected, staring up at the intricately designed ceiling.

Rune smiled at Jha'ant, a cold flash of his fangs. "Did you have another in mind to take my place? A rest would be welcome."

"I meant no disrespect," Jhaant said as he paled before clasping his hands. "I'm not as strong as the rest of you. The shields are getting more difficult to maintain."

The Crumbling gained strength with each passing day, building into a terrifying force over the last eight hundred years. The High Council decided each ruler would shield their realms when The Crumbling began. Within the first half-century, shielding both Necromia and Anaria strained Lyssa. Rune took Anaria from Lyssa in secret, shielding it along with Hell, allowing the realms to believe their High Queen protected them.

"We thank you for your efforts, Prince." Morbid's deep purring voice pulled Rune's attention. The Familiar smiled then winked at him.

Rune turned back to Jha'ant. He'd given up his attempts to understand Familiar lifetimes ago. They worshiped Chaos and fate. Could see the past and future. Their perspective would always be skewed from reason. He inclined his head at Jha'ant. "If there is nothing else."

"Thank you, Shadow Prince." Jha'ant's words closed the meeting.

Rune phased and reappeared at the far end of his crystalline realm. The loose crystal grinding under his steps as though he walked on broken glass.

The Crumbling rose before him. A mass of blackened clouds constantly rolled over each other, twisting sinisterly. Lightning arching within it, illuminating different depths in blacks, grays, and purples. Rune would have found the sight pleasing had it not been devouring his realm along with the rest.

Within its destructive clouds was something else. Something vast Rune's senses couldn't encompass. He tested it against the other realms. Found changes made in one realm carried to the rest. A single entity caused the slow destruction of the realms. Rune sought to overpower The Crumbling and break it under his will during his early attempts.

Force proved to be a fruitless effort leaving him with a single alternative. Rune needed to untangle the spell manifesting The Crumbling, dismantling it layer by layer.

Rune spent a millennia honing his power until he wielded it at will. The complexity of this shield was more advanced and intricate than any spell he'd created. He'd thought with time and patience he would unravel it. Mastering this as well.

It became a fascinating frustration. The spell changed as he manipulated it. Seemingly adapting to him as he learned it.

Rune shielded himself and stepped into The Crumbling's rolling clouds. It enveloped him. Crushing pressure bore down on the layer of his power that protected his mind and body from being consumed and destroyed.

What he did was precarious. His protective barrier was spelled to regenerate as The Crumbling consumed it. In doing this, Rune perceived the burning pain of the steady pressure grinding against his mind and body. He focused through the pain and monitored the steady drain on his power. Rune would need to retreat from this place before his strength gave out and he was destroyed. Rune mentally reached for The Crumbling, pulling the spell that maintained it before him. Glowing green threads surfaced. The lines crisscrossed, tightly woven together. Rune selected the first strand, beginning the task of unraveling the spell.

His agile fingers picked up the threads, holding them apart as he unraveled the overlapping pattern. As he pulled up the last string, the first layer vanished. Rune worked quickly, untangling the strands as they slid to various positions. Rune adjusted his grip, trading filaments to other fingers as the pattern moved to avoid the silken lines pulling in the wrong order and snapping. Forcing Rune to start the process once more.

Rune reached the sixth layer. His reserves significantly drained in the ten short minutes he stood within The Crumbling. He swapped a line to his thumb, but three strands shifted, cutting the thread and shattering all the ones he held. The lines glowed, pulsating. Taunting him. Rune phased out of The Crumbling and would need a day and a half to recover before he could make another attempt.

Exhausted, Rune phased back to his home, appearing next to the desk in his room. He recalled the soul shard registry and set it down, impatient to review the new listings it would contain tomorrow.

He would slumber and recover his strength. Stripping off his suit, he lay in bed staring up at his ceiling. The next seven days would be the longest of his life. Darkness willing, his night breeze would be among the entries listed tomorrow.

Rune closed his eyes, and sleep soon followed.

His mysterious female's scent drifted to him, teasing closer as Rune's vision adjusted and cleared. They were seated on the settee as they had been the previous night. She wore a light gray backless shirt, this time with fawn-colored leggings.

"Is that the same book?" Rune asked the woman curled on her side, leaning against his chest.

She didn't reply. Simply turned the page and continued reading.

Minx.Rune slid his finger down the inside of her wing, where it connected to her back.

The Ra'Voshnik seized on the breathy sound she made, focusing on her.Pull her closer and ask for her throat.

Rune dismissed the creature as it prowled his mind. His night breeze shifted her wing, but her movements did little to move his hand. Stroking the same spot, he continued to stare. She flattened her book to his chest and straddled his hips, knocking his hand away. "You're being an ass today."

"I promise to be better behaved in person." He smirked up at her.

She pouted at him for a moment, letting the expression drop as she opened her book to begin reading again. She muttered, "I like it better here," before turning a page.

Rune gently closed her book, and she reluctantly let him take it.