He looked down again at his chest and pressed a finger against his tunic. His soul . . . “But how?”

She turned and looked at him. “That’s what I want to know. How are you different? And can others have that light?”

Damien blinked, his mind going over what Selene had just shared. She could see his soul—his very soul—and it appeared like light. Was it because he followed the Light? That somehow his faith manifested itself? “I . . . I don’t know why I am different, since I’m not sure why my soul looks like that.”

“I think it has something to do with the Light.”

Damien sat back and tugged on his chin. “That could be true. It’s worth looking into.”

“I hope to find out more from Baris Abbey.”

“That’s a good place to start. The monks have been studying the Old Ways since before the Great Houses were formed. In fact, Baris Abbey was here long before Northwind Castle.”

Selene hummed thoughtfully. “Sadly, they didn’t seem to know much about House Ravenwood’s gift—not that I could tell them that it still exists.”

“Their library is vast. There are rooms upon rooms beneath the abbey. I’m sure there is something there.”

She looked up. “You think so?”

Her face—a mixture of hope and apprehension—tugged at him, leaving a fluttery feeling inside his chest. “I believe so. And like I said, I want to help you.” He stood up and held his hand out to her. “In the meantime, I would like to get to know you more, and perhaps ask your advice on working with the other houses. After all, you are the heir to a Great House too.”

Selene took his hand and stood. She narrowed her eyes and studied him, then seemed to come to a conclusion. “Yes, I would like that. We are married, and I would like to know the kind of man I will be living with for the rest of my life.”

Damien pursed his lips. He felt the same way.

18

What’s happening to me?” Lady Ragna stared down at her palms as if the lines across the surface would answer her question. Her hands looked as they always did. But inside, where her eyes could not see, she could feel it. A change. It was subtle, but it was there, a small trickle. Slowly, her gift was fading.

She clamped her hands shut and looked up at the portrait of Rabanna Ravenwood that hung above her fireplace. Bloodlines could weaken. It had happened before. Rumors were, House Merek was not the power it used to be, due to the dilution of their blood.

But how could that be true in her case? The Ravenwood women had carefully protected their line for hundreds of years. Never had there been a change in power from one woman to the next, except when the matriarch died and the next Ravenwood woman took her place as the grand lady.

“Maybe I’m imagining it,” she whispered to the darkening room. Night was quickly coming, and the only light came from the burning embers in the fireplace. A servant would be by soon to tend the fire for the night. “Then again . . .”