Page 194 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
Through the storm, I struggled to make out the stranger’s features, but I saw long light-brown hair and bronzy skin that glowed in the torchlight. He raised a hand in greeting.
Waving back, Pete started forward. Sionna and I followed. One step, then two, and the rain ceased.
I boggled over my shoulder. Sure enough, the storm thrived behind us, thunder booming, lightning flashing, but we now stood in the still, dry night as if we were inside a snow globe, looking out.
“That’ll be the elemental shields,” the strange feyr said in a friendly tenor. “Without them, the rains would drown us.”
I’d wondered how an epic flood hadn’t submerged the temple, being at the bottom of a gorge. All groundwater would surely flow right for it.
The stranger, gazelle-like, walked toward us. He smiled, further defining the already knifelike features I hadn’t seen at first.
After a moment’s blinking, I realized he was Danann. A black Danann.
Dear Goddess, how had I never met a person like him before? Why had all the Dananns on Earth been of the Caucasian variety if we were a diverse race?
So, not only was my childhood a contrived farce, but it was whitewashed too. Great.
The feyr bowed his ochre head. “Welcome, princess.”
I just stared at him. “How—how do you know I’m a princess?” Right then, I looked more like a wet cat than a royal.
“Myrrdin is a high druidic prophet, Shorty,” Pete said, his resentment toward me restrained. For the moment. “He likely saw you coming.”
Myrrdin offered a rangy hand. “And I knew your mother well, child. You look very much like her. Although, you have your grandmother’s nose.”
Chills stippled my arms. Wasn’t that how Briar had described me?
Yearning to learn more about the two beyns he’d mentioned, I took Myrrdin’s hand and gave it a good, friendly shake.
Myrrdin’s eyes, an indistinguishable color in the night, sparkled with a humor I didn’t understand until Pete also took his hand and placed a reverential kiss on his knuckles.
“Oh, I—” I cringed, unsure what to do now.
“‘Tis an outmoded custom, anyhow,” Myrrdin said. “I prefer your gesture. ‘Tis more hygienic.”
“Myrrdin is just as finicky about cleanliness as you are, Shorty,” Pete said.
That, I could already tell. Myrrdin smelled like vanilla and nutmeg, and his fingernails were well-manicured, clear as holy water.
“How did you know my mother?” Couldn’t have held in the question any longer if I’d tried.
“I was her stepfather’s high druid. He entrusted me with her spiritual schooling.” Memories flitted through his gentle expression. “She was one of my most challenging pupils—questioning everything, forever intent on thinking for herself.”
She sounded just like—
“Now I ken where you get it,” Pete said, making my heart sing.
Chuckling, Myrrdin gestured toward the ancient temple beyond the vines. “I’ll tell you all about your mother, princess, but I’m sure you’d first like a good, long rest. You’ve had quite a journey getting here.”
I blinked again. He spoke with finality, like I’d reached my destination. But wasn’t my destination the Shadow Palace?
When I turned to question Pete, he nodded me on. “Go on, Shorty. There’s no one here who’ll harm you.”
Besides Myrrdin, I saw no other signs of life. “Who else is here?”
Myrrdin was already striding toward the temple. “Come along and we’ll acquaint you.”
So, I followed Myrrdin down a torch-lined path. Pete and Sionna followed. The latter with jubilance (she seemed quite fond of Myrrdin), the former in moody silence.
