Everything was so different, even though it was only a few months ago. She knew. She remembered.
Tasha Lorenn materialised at the edge of the precipice; almost toppling right off the Golden Cliffs. It felt so good to be back. That was one of the best things about her gift; she could always indulge her nostalgia.
But this was no time to slip into her memories. Meya had been taken and Tasha was in danger as long as she stayed. She had to leave.
She called up the Valispath and raced to the gleaming palace.
Tasha's mother had been a human. Her father had been a Meyarin, the last of House Lorenn.
Both of them were six feet underground.
She glanced quickly at her hands. She had a gift. She could control the Valispath with inhuman strength and speed. Who was she? Who could she pledge allegiance to without being called out as a traitor by the other side?
Not that it mattered right now. She had to hurry.
The hallway she was in right now, all plush deep blue carpet and blank white walls with silver patterns, was empty, but that couldn't last. Aven had Claimed mind readers; if they sensed an enemy presence . . .
She couldn't just throw open any door for fear of stumbling upon the very mind readers she was trying to avoid, or just finding anyone who wasn't Niyx. She didn't know what she was really doing here, other than looking for Niyx. Looking for proof he was still here. Staying with him and eventually saving his self-sacrificing butt.
Tasha's feet padded along silently, any sound muted by the carpet. No voices reached her ears. Which room was Niyx's? By the stars . . .
Her throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper. What happened next was purely luck, and maybe the fact she was getting closer to the king's and queen's chambers.
A door in front of her was ajar. Through it, she could see a young man, pale as paper, sitting at an antique desk with his black-haired head resting against the chair's back. He was sleeping.
Tasha crept closer. Was this him? Stars, what she wouldn't give to see him again . . . her heart leapt into her mouth.
Part of her wanted to rush forward, bury her face in his stomach and hug him. Part of her wanted to stay there forever, comforted by the rise and fall of his chest. By the fact he was alive. And part of her, an overwhelmingly present part, held in her laughter, walked forward, kicked his shin and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
"You're not Claimed after all, are you?"
That may have not been the best joke at the moment, because Niyx was a notoriously light sleeper. Tasha was thrown on the ground, Niyx shutting the door, unsheathing his sword and pressing it to her throat in one fluid movement.
"Okay," Tasha choked out. "Hello to you, too, pal."
Niyx's arm relaxed and he took her hand, pulling her back up and bombarding her with questions. "Stars, Tasha, what are you doing here? How'd you find me? How'd you get down here? Are you Claimed?"
"Honey, would I bother playing that joke on you if I was Claimed?" Tasha drawled.
Niyx cracked a tired smile. "You still haven't answered my other questions. How are things in Draekora?" He sat down, nodding for her to do the same.
"From bad to slightly better," Tasha collapsed on the king-sized bed and started talking.