Page 146 of Star of the Morning
Nicholas of Lismòr, brother-in-law to the fair Sarait and uncle to the lass lying in the bed before him, sat in a chair under a window in a peaceful, quiet chamber and stared out at the night sky. He'd been sitting in that chair for quite some time, resting actually. He generally didn't rest overmuch, despite his years, but he had expended all his energy and he was weary.
The night sky was dark and he wasn't surprised. It was indicative of the state of things. Darkness covered the land. Darkness covered the young woman lying in the bed nearby. Darkness covered even his own heart, and he wasn't one to give in to despair.
He fingered the ring he held. It was a man's ring, a jet-black stone set in silver. Nicholas did not shiver when he touched it, though he supposed he should have. The ring had belonged to Gair of Ceangail. It was a reflection of his power and the darkness of his heart.
Nicholas had received the ring when he'd received a wild, headstrong lass of twelve summers. The mercenaries who'd gifted him with Morgan.
He would rest while Morgan recovered, and then he would be about his business again. Morgan would be well, but that was just the beginning of what she would face. And though he could not control the events that would swirl around her, he could steady her before she plunged into them.
He looked at the dawn once more before he closed his eyes and smiled.
It was enough for now.
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