“My lady, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. I just . . . Yes, Lord Damien found me. But sparring was never brought up.”

“Odd,” Taegis said behind her. “Well, in answer to your question, yes. The weaponsmith will need to speak to you. He will need details about your previous swords. Come, I will take you to him.”

“Thank you,” Selene breathed as Taegis came around her and opened the door.

“Sir,” Karl said, his posture rigid and upright.

“Karl, I will be accompanying Lady Selene. Go ahead and take your midday meal.”

“Thank you.” He bowed toward Selene. “My lady.”

“Karl,” Selene acknowledged.

The dark-haired guard turned and left.

“This way, my lady.”

They followed another hall along the second floor lined with windows that overlooked the sea.

Selene slowed as she passed by a set of windows. She knew this place. It was the same corridor where Damien had taken her days before.

She glanced out one of the tall windows. White-capped waves rolled in from beyond, crashing along the cliffs below. The sky was a dull grey, painting the water below the same color. The cliffs were bare, with only wisps of yellow grass and rugged stone—

She came to a stop. There, along the narrow precipice that jutted beyond the rest of the cliffs, stood a lone figure.

A man stood on the edge, moving his arms in front of him, his knees bent, his back straight. The wind pulled and tugged on the cloak whipping around his body. He raised his hands up to chin level, palms up, sending the cloak flying to his right side like a banner, leaving his light tunic exposed. The wind pressed his clothing against his body, and she could almost see the contours of the muscles along his back move in conjunction with his arms. A spray of water shot past the edge of the cliff, washing over him. Whoever he was, he was in excellent physical condition—and had to be cold.

“Who is that? And what is he doing?”

Taegis paused and looked out. “It’s his lordship.”

“Lord Damien?” Selene glanced back. Yes, she could see that now: the hair, the height, the body build. She held her breath, mesmerized as another wave crashed up over the edge of the cliff, sending a wall of seawater up into the air in front of him. A tingling sensation spread up from her back to her neck and face.

A smile touched on the older man’s lips. “It has been a while since Lord Damien raised the waters. Members of House Maris have stood on that cliff for hundreds of years, practicing their gift of raising the waters and communing with the Light.”

“The Light?”

“Yes. This is Lord Damien’s time when he intercedes for his people and offers his gift up to the Light.”

What a lovely concept. “Like worship,” Selene murmured.

“Yes.”

So different from the cold sanctuary and solemn words spoken during the new moon service to the Dark Lady. Selene closed her eyes, but she could not erase the image of Damien standing on the cliff, his body moving in perfect harmony with the water and the waves in supplication to the Light. Just the way she imagined a man with a soul like his would.