Shadow Touched (Editing)

50. NAIMA

I'm up high. Surrounded by a vast openness. Darkness is punctuated by sparkling lights that go farther than the eye can see. The darkness is cold but not like that of the Gloaming. It's comforting. Peaceful. I am at peace. For the first time in my existence, I feel I am who I am meant to be. At the place I am meant to be. In the space I am meant to occupy.

It's a peace I've never felt before. A kind of peace I never knew possible.

I must be dreaming.

It's an odd dream, far removed from my regular ones, which are riddled with the anxieties I refuse to address in my waking hours. I guess that makes them less dreams and more so nightmares.

My thoughts float from me, riding a non-existent breeze. The vastness of this space—this void I inhabit—is so magnificent and calm. It pulls my reflections from my essence, letting them hang, suspended in the air momentarily, and then poof, they're gone off to wherever thoughts go in an infinite chasm.

"Naima?"

Grey's voice pulls me from my sleep. My eyes flutter open, settling on his, which are currently the deep velvety blue of the aster flowers that bloom in the winter.

I blink a few more times, letting the sleep melt away from my eyes. He gives me a soft, gentle smile as he cups my face in his hand. I fight the urge to shutter at his ice-cold touch.

"Sorry for waking you."

I smile at him. I stretch, letting the thin sheet that covers me slide off to reveal my naked form. His eyes burn just a little brighter.

"Don't worry about it," I reply, my sleepy voice coming out low and husky. I reach out a hand and run it along his chest. Quicker than I can blink, he grabs it, stopping it mid-glide.

"As much as I love where your mind's at," he begins, holding my hand flat against his chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. "I have to go."

"Oh." I look out the big window to the far right of the bed. The curtains aren't fully drawn, showing me a sliver of outside.

"It's still dark out."

"Yes. It's just after midnight, but...the King..." He peters off.

"Grey—your father's not in the sitting room, is he?" I ask, lowering my voice as I pull my hand free from his grasp to cover myself with the sheet and quilt that's crumpled by my feet.

"No. Just one of his lackeys and a few guards. Six. Six guards. He sent six guards."

"Ahh, yes, the normal retinue. He's not concerned one bit that you're Shadow Touched. Nope, not our good old King. He's not worried at all."

"Not even a little bit," he agrees, his smile reaching his eyes.

Our first encounter in the cabin left me feeling cold. Like the Shadows had fully taken ahold of Grey. After we ate the meal Nell put together in the kitchen, it seemed the hold of the Shadows broke. I guess the cuff—the potentiam—really does work. The rest of our evening was spent vacillating between intense throes of passion and talking, almost like we were relearning each other.

But now...

"Duty calls."

"Hmmm? Sorry, darling. It seems like you brought me halfway through your thought."

"I hate responsible Grey," I respond, sitting forward to kiss his lips softly. "I guess I should get dressed and head back to my rooms," I add, scanning the floor for my clothes.

"Yes, I suppose. Big day tomorrow." The brightness in his eyes dims slightly as I climb out of bed.

The Jubilee. I'd forgotten about the cursed event for the few hours we'd been wrapped up in each other. That is the entire reason I'm back in Varran. It's not just the Jubilee. Not anymore. Now, it's life or death. A race against time to find the journals of a long-dead woman with the slightest hope that they hold the secret to saving Grey.