“And I think it’s important you know I do not mind if you wish to stay with me.”

“We will join on our wedding night, Farah. That might not be the way of the Firenz, but it is the respect a Dellish man gives his future wife.”

“You being Dellish is usually quite charming. Now it is not,” she groused.

He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes at him and warned, “We will be kissing much on our way to Notting Thicket.”

“That will make it difficult to make haste,” he teased.

“Do not kiss me like that,” she whispered, suddenly very serious. “Do not make me feel like this. Do not make me this happy, True Axelsson, and then take it away from me.”

This happy?

He became serious too.

Deathly.

And he locked his arms about her and dropped his head so close, all he could see was her eyes.

“Never,” he vowed.

Her hand still in his hair put pressure there.

So True made her happy again and he kissed his Farah, thoroughly.

So thoroughly, a cheer of encouragement filled the air as the Lights danced in the sky and the sprites zinged through the golden globes.

Prince True didn’t hear it.

Because True Axelsson was finally kissing, really kissing, the woman he loved.

70

The Call

Lady Farah

Room above The Antlers Pub and Inn, Five Miles from the Lights

WODELL

“Silence,” I called into the air, feeling silly. “Silence, are you there?”

There was no reply, which I did not find surprising, but I found it frustrating.

I didn’t have a good deal of time, True wished to be away and soon.

But I had to do this, and it had to be fast.

“Silence,” I whispered urgently. “Can you hear me? Are you there?”

“Farah?”

Thank the gods.

“Silence,” I answered. “Can you…?”

I trailed off when I saw a vision of her shimmering before me, slowly coming into focus.

What wonder.

“Faith!” she exclaimed. “Look at you. You’re right there.”

I smiled.

“What is this?” a deep voice that seemed as if it came through a tunnel could be heard and then a hazy arm could be seen and Silence, who had grown distinct, suddenly disappeared.

“Mars!” she snapped, and I could focus on her shimmering some five feet to the left from where she’d been.

She was standing, appearing to push against a hold and glaring up at something.

“What is this sorcery?” he demanded, and although I heard Mars’s voice, and there was a large area close to Silence that was wavy, his frame was obscure.

“Farah is calling,” Silence told him.

“I see nothing but sinister particles,” he retorted.

“They’re not sinister, they’re Farah. I see her perfectly well,” Silence returned.

“Well, I do not, thus you will leave this place.”