by Dani Harper
“She left?” Gwenhidw looked surprised. “And you did not go with her?”
“I found that I did not wish to.”
The queen sighed and sat down on a carved agate bench by the pond. Glowing blue fish with enormous eyes hastened to the surface, hoping for crumbs. “I had so hoped you would find more between you. That is why I encouraged her to seek you out. Why I insisted you enjoy the party as a guest and not a guardian.”
“You would send me from you?” Lurien was incredulous.
“I would see you happy.”
“Perhaps you would see yourself without temptation.”
She frowned. “Have a care, Lurien. You overstep your bounds.”
“Really?” Instead of apologizing, he sat beside her on the bench. “What bounds have I, Gwenhidw? We have been in each other’s shadow for time immemorial, you and I. And grown ever closer. Never did I allow myself to think I was worthy of you, and I am no blooded prince. But lately I have dared to hope that perhaps you might open your heart again, if not to a husband, then at least to a lover.”
“I will have neither,” she said, with a sad smile. “Many have said that when Arthfael died, much of me went to the dark lands with him. I do not think it is true, though I walked in shadow for a very long time. It is simply that I am wed to the Nine Realms, and my people are my children. My heart rests with them—and none else.”
“Noble sentiments and lofty ideals,” he said. “Your words have great power, Gwenhidw, enough to move an entire kingdom from its very foundations. You speak to your people of growth and change, and the need to entertain new ideas in order to live—and yet you will not hear your own words. You talk of the future, yet you do not release the past.”
“Is that not the way of our peoples? Is it not written on our banner? ‘We relinquish not that which is ours.’”
“Not even a dead king,” he said, and saw her eyes flash as the barb hit home. Good. You can still feel something.
She rose to her full height, then, and power radiated from her as if from the heart of a star. A lesser being would have quailed or fled before the queen’s outraged countenance. Lurien did not even stand but simply folded his arms and waited. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick with shock and anger. “He is mine, and you will not speak of him to me again.”
“I will speak of him. I loved him too, Gwenhidw. Arthfael was my lord, but he was also the closest thing to a brother I have ever known. I will always miss him, but he has been gone for millennia. I will not be a prisoner to his memory as you have become.”
“No? I have watched you suffer ever since that terrible night. I have never blamed you for his death, Lurien. Never. But you still do. What else are you but a prisoner?”
What indeed? He softened his voice as he stood. “We all have our regrets to bear, dear one. But to shut yourself away from love is to deny who you are. Mortals say that the Fair Ones have no hearts. You and I know that is not true.”
“I love my people. It is enough.”
“Is it? Truly, they return that love. But tell me this”—he encircled her with his powerful arms and pulled her close, though she held herself stiff and unyielding. “You need no arms to hold you in the night when you are weary from the burdens you carry? No shoulder upon which to rest your head? It seems to me you asked for that very thing not long ago.”
She shook her head and pushed herself away. “I will have no husband, Lurien. And no lover. Not even you, though you are my dearest and truest friend, and the nearest to my heart.”
Near it. But not in it, he thought, and let his arms drop to his sides. “You may not need a love that is flesh and blood, Gwenhidw. But I do. And I find I have other needs as well. I hereby cede the title of llaw dde, Your Grace, and resign as your right hand.”
“What? You cannot!”
“I just did. I have guarded you well all these centuries and served you with all of my heart and soul. These palace walls have been as a cage to me, but I bore it gladly for your sake. Now, however, I see it is time for me to leave this place and return to my true self.”
“And who is that?”
“I am the Lord of the Wild Hunt, Your Grace. And that is not a title that even you can bestow or take away. It is simply who I am.” He turned and left the shadowed garden.
No voice called him back.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Nobody writes alone. I’m more than grateful to the usual suspects for their encouragement and unflagging support in this endeavor.
First and foremost, my deep appreciation to those who helped refine the creation of Storm Warned: Sharon Stogner, Melody Guy, and Ron Silvester. Thanks for reading—and rereading—and re-rereading countless pages! Your suggestions were invaluable.
Thanks to my editor, Maria Gomez, for your enthusiasm and patience. Also, I feel very fortunate to have a fabulous author team at Montlake to whom I can turn with any question, and who do so much of the behind-the-scenes hard work of producing and marketing a book. You guys rock!
A shout out to my agent, Stephany Evans, for helping me get to this point in my writing career. Thanks for believing in me.
Love and hugs to Samantha Craig, who provided a veritable hotline of emotional support during the tough times, and to Jordan Craig, who gave me some great survival ideas that changed my perspective. Much love to Abby Craig for sharing suggestions and creative fun, and to Jaime Craig for cheering me on no matter what. I adore you all.
Meanwhile, there just aren’t enough words to express my thanks to my Alaskan mountain-man husband, Ronald Joe Silvester, who has endured several months of privation in the form of not only cooking for himself but voluntarily learning to process an explosion of garden produce. I’m certain he would far rather have wrestled a fifty-pound salmon with his bare hands and hauled home a bull moose by the nostrils, than peel a bumper crop of apples and slice up an unrelenting supply of tomatoes. Not only are you are my hero; you have the greatest heart of anyone I have ever known.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2011 Ron Silvester
Dani Harper is a former newspaper editor whose passion for all things supernatural led her to a second career writing fiction. There isn’t anything she likes better than exploring myths and legends from many cultures, which serve to inspire her sizzling and suspenseful stories.
A longtime resident of the Canadian north and southeastern Alaska, Dani now lives in rural Washington with her retired mountain-man husband, Ron. Together they do battle with runaway gardens, rampant fruit trees, and a roving herd of chickens, with the assistance of three dogs and several grandchildren.
Dani Harper is the author of Storm Bound and Storm Warrior (the Grim Series), as well as First Bite (Dark Wolf), for Montlake Romance. She is also the author of a shapeshifter series, which includes Changeling Moon, Changeling Dream, and Changeling Dawn. For full details, visit her website at www.daniharper.com.
