Mists of Velvet

song was embedded in her mind, because seeing the wren always preceded a vision of her lover—a dream lover she now realized was going to be her mate.
    “You have taken a vow of silence, I am told.”
    Refusing the urge to look away from the king, she nodded. He looked down upon her, watching and studying her as if she were some strange new creature he had never before seen.
    “You have a look about you, little one. Something familiar,” he murmured. “The memory is so close; yet whenever I try to reach out and claim it, it floats away like mist.”
    Bronwnn allowed him to tilt her chin as he looked at her from all angles. “Have you ever been to Velvet Haven?”
    She shook her head. She had heard of it, of course, but had never gone farther from the temple than her walks in the woods and the little cottage that was her secret from Cailleach.
    Releasing her chin, he allowed her to take a step away from him. Her hands no longer shook, she realized, as she smoothed them along the front of her white gown.
    “Cailleach informs me you are the order’s scribe. Your visions are prophecies.”
    She inclined her head, hoping he would not ask how she came by her visions. That secret she could not give up.
    “I sense something in you. A great power. I wonder if Cailleach senses it. Is that why she wishes to gift you to the wraith?”
    He was thinking out loud. He did not need an answer from her. And thank the goddess, for she would not know how to reply.
    “You heard me name my warriors. What do you think of my choices?”
    A shrug was her answer. She knew little outside her world. She knew only what her visions had foretold—that there would be nine warriors, and one of them would be a Destroyer; a powerful, powerful apprentice to the Dark Mage, who would either destroy Annwyn and the mortal realm, or the very master he served.
    The king seemed to understand her, despite her silence. “Tell me, do you know which of the nine will betray Annwyn?”
    She shook her head vigorously, hoping he could see her seriousness.
    He sighed, but he looked kindly at her. “We are allies, are we not?” he asked as he held out his palm to her. “I will protect you. Even from Cailleach. All I ask is that you come to me with any new visions that may aid us. You can trust me, Bronwnn. My word is my bond—and my honor. I do not give it lightly. But you can believe me in this. I will not let you suffer, not under the wraith, nor under Cailleach.”
    She smiled, feeling light with joy. She had an ally in the king. As he started to move away, she reached for his hand and clutched it in her own. Turning his palm up, she traced the lines with her fingertips and closed her eyes.
    He was searching for his brother, and Bronwnn vowed to gift him with anything she might see. If the king had vowed to protect her from Cailleach, it was the very least she could do.
    Images of water came to her—a long snaking river that traveled through darkness. A tunnel? A cavern? A pathway? It was a cavern of sorts, with strange symbols not of her world; yet the river was in Annwyn.
    Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, then reached into the little satchel she wore at her side and pulled out the notebook she carried in order to communicate with Cailleach. Begin at the reflection pool , she wrote quickly, and follow the river, until it leads to a cavern, where you will see mortal cipher. Your brother waits at the end .
    Tearing the page free, she pressed it into his palm, then slipped away, knowing she had stayed too long in the hall. Cailleach would have need of her soon, and Bronwnn did not wish to arouse her suspicions. But before she could leave, the king clasped his fingers around her wrist and stopped her. The wren was back, she noticed, perched on the thick stone sill.
    “I am in your debt. You have only to ask, and whatever you desire is yours.”
    She turned and looked at him. I want what you have , she thought silently. A love so powerful and beautiful. I want to belong to someone, and have him belong to me .

    Despite the darkness, he saw his reflection. His were eyes designed to see through anything—light or dark; good and evil. He loathed what he saw—a human known as Aaron.
    It was not his real name or appearance, of course. He reviled fleshlings for their frailty, their mortality, their place in heaven. It went against his nature to hide his splendor beneath such a disguise. But the time was not yet right to reveal himself, or his intentions.