Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(85)
May Tham's spirit sail on e’ermore.
As the little leaf-shaped vessel bobbed in the shallows, I recited the wish penned on the parchment sealed in its belly. “My wish for you, Thamior, is that your heart remains as full of life and love in the next phase of your Ambar Lenn as it has in this one. Blessings and abundance, brother-mine.”
“Blessings and abundance,” the group repeated.
I nudged my offering, sending it past the lazy ripples lapping at the bank, to where the hard pull of the current snatched it up and swirled it down river to join the others.
Brushing my damp fingers against the fabric of my gown, I straightened and stepped to stand before Tham, the male who—whether born of my blood or not, deceased or not—was my brother in every sense of the word.
He stood before me as all males in our Elven race: handsome, proud, lithe, lean, flaxen haired and fair of skin. But Tham held a mischievous light in his Highborne-blue eyes that no other ever had and I doubted ever would again.
He was the purest joy, the truest love.
Stepping close, I whispered his soul name for our last goodbye. “Amin mela lle, Quynn. You were taken from us far too soon.”
He winked and raised his fingers to my cheek. I could not feel his ghostly touch, though I knew the warmth he exuded. “Amin mela lle, my sweet Ryanne. I love you as well.”
Tham’s speaking of my soul name was, as always, the most intimate sensation. It kindled warmth beneath my skin and brought my most private, guarded emotions to awakening. It was a joining of souls. A merging of love. And now, with him having lived a mere century and one, he would never speak it again.
Galan handed me a handkerchief and when the others had launched their wishes, we followed the sounds of celebration and headed up to the ceremonial ruin site above the village.
The musicians filled the velvet night sky, their ballads gliding from the glittering crowd to the stars far above the ancient platform. Though I had been absent from the village since the raid, things remained exactly as I remembered: the silk covered altar-stone buried beneath and endless bounty of refreshments, the torchlighted mantel stones encircling the plateau clearing, their burning light raining down an ethereal glow from twenty feet above, and the couples linked together, dressed to perfection, swirling and smiling.
The females’ gowns and hair flowed behind them as males floated them around the dance floor in tailored slacks and velvet embroidered jackets.
The lonely longing of my absence evaporated in an instant.
I was home.
I inhaled the rainforest breeze and the scents of orchid and hyacinth greeted me. Tropical heat crept deep into my body and warmed my chilled soul. So much had happened since Galan, Aust, and Tham ventured off on their Ambar Lenn.
So much would never be the same.
Life’s Journey. I sighed at the painful naivety of life before their quest began. In eight months Galan had mated, was expecting twins and now served the God of gods. Aust had lost his father, Cameron, been stricken by the gods at Dragon’s Peak and exiled from the village. Tham was dead.
No matter how many times I repeated those words to myself, I failed to believe them. One morning, he set off on a jog through the Haven forests and the next moment, he was taken by Rheagan’s minions into a lost city of Fae and beaten to death for no reason other than to prove it could be done.
“Why aren’t you dancing, sweetheart?” Cowboy asked, gesturing to the life celebration in progress before us.
My escort for the evening—Talon bodyguard in truth—the tall, southern Were shifter, tilted the brim of his ebony hat toward the crowd. “You’re pretty as a prize pony and a dozen young studs have checked you out. Go on. Have some fun.”
As much as I appreciated his kindness, the truth was, I could never ask a male to dance. The honor was of the male’s choosing and, thus far, not one male had been so inclined.
I twirled the end of the new ribbon woven into my silver locks and forced a smile. “It seems my adventures outside the village have left me a bit of a pariah, and those who would ask me as family are elsewhere.”
Iadon had taken Nyssa and Ella to his cousin's cottage for a visit. Aust and his mother Elora were spending some time at Cameron’s pyre site. And after promising Galan I wouldn’t leave Cowboy’s side, he took Jade for a forest tryst.
Cowboy frowned, the torchlight catching the gold reflection of his inner animal in his eyes. “It’s a damn shame. If I wasn’t on duty, I’d take you out on the floor for a spin.”
I reached onto my tip-toes and kissed his bristled cheek. “Fash not, I tire anyway. It has been quite a day already.”
“Hold that thought, sweetheart. I think you’re up.”
As a group of my peers made their way around the inside edge of the circle of stones, Cowboy retreated two steps in what I assumed to be an effort to appear less assuming.
Impossible. All Weres possessed an unavoidable draw. Strength. Power. When coupled with his southern drawl, warrior’s build, and dressed in black leather, battle gear, the Wolf drew the attention of all—male and female alike.
Durian led the trio striding toward us, dapper as ever in a long navy coat embellished with silver leaves sewn along the lapel. I smoothed my hands down my dress and ordered my quickened heart to settle. Many flowers had lost their petals while I daydreamed about that male in the south meadow.