In a permanent way.Ī wave of dizziness hit her, darkening her vision for a moment. She would have drowned alongside those men. Her hand slid down and rested on her throat. And if he hadn’t chosen to bond with her minutes before. Selene lifted her hand and brushed her cheek. Yet he was still able to turn away and maintain enough mental capacity to raise the river barrier in time to save them. She could still see the shock on his face the moment her dreamwalking gift was revealed to him. And just as much as she now knew him, he knew her as well.

Most of it she had already discovered during her dreamwalks, but having that knowledge imparted into her innermost mind and soul, rather than seeing it as memories, were two completely different things. The moment the monk had finished the rites and the flame had jumped between their hands, she knew him. Selene kept her eyes ahead, but every part of her could sense him. Lord Damien followed a couple of feet behind, his steps firm. Her stomach lurched and her fingers curled around the edge of her cloak. He was as tall as he was skinny, with straw-colored hair that stuck out around his face. He pointed at something, and Karl answered in a low, gruff voice.Ĭohen, the monk, walked quietly beside her, his presence warm and friendly. Sten was round and muscular, with greying hair and a neck as thick as a man’s hand. His hair curled along the edge of his cloak, and his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. Karl was a few inches taller than Sten, and younger by at least ten years. Up above, streaks of red split the sky, as if some large animal had torn open the heavens.īrittle leaves crunched beneath her boots as she followed the guards, Sten and Karl.

Twilight slipped across the road, blending the forest edge with the dirt path. The trees that lined Trader’s Road appeared like bony fingers reaching up toward the darkening sky. Her clothes were still damp from crossing the Hyr River, and the cold wind did not help. Selene shivered and pulled her cloak and hood closer around her shoulders. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Ĭover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared DesignĪuthor is represented by The Steve Laube Agency. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-for example, electronic, photocopy, recording-without the prior written permission of the publisher. Bethany House Publishers is a division ofīaker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, MichiganĪll rights reserved.

The Ravenwood Legacy by Cherry Nelson